And I'm back! So sorry for the long hiatus. Along with writer's block, school has really been keeping me away for the most part. I'll do the best I can to upload more often. Enjoy guys!

Chapter 3

Rushing through the darkened abyss, Paula could not seem to escape. Her heart pounded against her aching chest as she fought to keep away from the shadow that managed to hold pace with her. Her dress tattered, exposing most of her bare flesh, but she did not care. All that mattered now was that she find Basil. He was here somewhere, he had to be.

Stopped dead in her tracks, she gasped, horrified by the gruesome sight before her. There, on the ground, she found her lover, his body beaten and left to fade away. His face was covered with many cuts and bruises and like her own, his clothes were too ripped to shreds, the wounds underneath visible. She let out a deep sob as she collapsed beside him. With all the strength she had left in her, she pulled him towards her, cradling his head in her arms. Blood surrounded him, staining her dress. His face was pale and cold to the touch. He had been dead for a while.

"No…," she whispered, tears staining her face as her fingers traced his blood-stained lips. "Please…you can't leave me."

"You were foolish to fight me, my dear," the voice echoed, yet it sounded so close by. "I gave you a choice and you chose this retched fool who could not even defend himself."

"He fought to protect me!" she shouted, facing the large shadow.

"Look how well that turned out," he chuckled sinisterly as he finally revealed himself. "You should have taken my offer, remained by my side as my queen, but now you shall face the ultimate consequence; you and your family." With his hand behind his back, he brought it around to reveal a pistol. "Your consequence…" He cocked it. "…is death." Calmly and keeping a grimace smile on his face, he aimed his weapon at her.

"No! Please, don't-!"

BANG!

Silence fell as everything went black. She could feel her blood seep out from the gunshot wound that instantly ended her life. Was this what it felt like, she asked inwardly? To feel like you are still trapped inside your own lifeless body. Maybe this was her curse; that her soul could never be free, could never rest peacefully. Suddenly a small bright light appeared just ahead and almost like a uncontrolled impulse Paula walked towards it. With each step, the light grew larger and even brighter than before. No longer was she afraid. Finally reaching the light, she jumped but instead of flying, she fell and all around her, her world became dark once more, the heat that began to grow burning her flesh as she continued to plummet. She could not scream. All she could do was feel the searing pain that engulfed her.

"Paula…" a faint voice called out into the distance. "Paula…!"

"Paula!" I cried out as I tried to break my wife from her unconscious prison. Shaking her, she still did not respond while she continued her harsh poundings against my chest. I simply ignored the violent abuse that was being bestowed upon me, all that matter now was to wake her before she caused any damage to herself. "Paula! It's only a dream. Paula!"

What seemed like hours, I did the only thing I felt could waken her as I slapped her across the face. Finally after that terrifying battle, Paula's eyes burst open. Her pupils dilated. Sweat covered her entire body as she took ragged breaths. For a moment, her gaze upon me was vacant, almost as if she did not recognize me or was unaware of my presence.

"Jonathan?" she questioned once she was finally able to focus, her hand brushed against my cheek almost to see if I was really there. Without responding, I gave out a sigh of relief as I held her close. Her heart pounded against my chest, both our rapid rhythms in unison.

"Shh, it's all right, darling. I'm here," I tried to assure her as I rubbed her bare back. I could feel her tears soak into my fur, but did not mind the slightest bit. This is the worst I had seen her yet. "It's over," I whispered, fighting back my own tears as she gripped onto me with her very life.

"It burned," Paula said as her sobs continued. "The flesh, the burning flesh…wouldn't stop."

"What…?" I was shocked to hear her say such a thing. "Darling, what are you talking about?"

"Please…don't leave… me," she then desperately pleaded, ignoring my question entirely. For a moment, I wondered if her nightmare had anything to do what I had just heard. Why she held onto me like her life depended on it. Not bothering with that thought, I pushed it aside and held her close. Within my embrace, her body trembled.

"It's all right, love," I assured her once more. Kissing her forehead gently, I brushed my fingers through her hair. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Even after this, though a bit quieter, her pleas continued. Was this what she has been dreaming about? If so, in what sense of me leaving her did she refer to?

Finally after what seemed almost like an eternity, I managed to calm her. Grabbing my discarded shirt from the end of the bed, I helped Paula into it for she kept shaking. Doing a few of the buttons so that she was no longer exposed, I leaned against the headboard, guiding her towards me. I watched as she rested her head on my chest and her arm wrapped across my stomach. Though I could still sense some tension within her, I brushed the few strains of loose hair from her face before leaning down to kiss her lips. I sighed deeply once she at least let herself drift off to sleep once more. I on the other hand, like many other nights before this one could not sleep. All I could so was lay there within the darkness, listening to the delicate sounds of her breathing.

"Perhaps now you will be able to let me in," I whispered even though I knew she was to the point that she could not hear my words.

Later on that very evening, everything seemed to be quite normal. Not once did Paula bring up the horrid events of last night, nor did I question her for I would have received no answer. In fact, she didn't even questioned when she woke up how she ended up clothed. This told me one of two things, either she wished to forget it even happened she was unaware of her fright or she was unaware of her fright. For the sake of my sanity, I voted the latter. She knew hiding her problems bothered me, yet for the life of me, she still felt the need to do so. Knowing this brought me back to when she first came to Baker Street that dreadful winter. At that point in her life, I can now understand why she refused to talk to me. What was her excuse now?

"So," a voice (whom I soon realized was Mrs. Dawson herself) began, interrupting my train of thought, "David was telling me earlier that you were requested to assist Inspector Vole on another case."

"Quite right," I replied, clearing my throat. "Fortunately, we managed to arrest him last night."

"Wonderful news, Basil!" Dawson cheerfully exclaimed. "I trust a hanging will come to him soon enough."

"Not exactly, my dear fellow."

"Whatever do you mean? He murdered his own mistress. Why on earth would that brut not get the rope?"

"Because, due to some extreme turn of events, he was murdered," Paula replied for me. "During Matthew's arrest, they were attacked by someone. Two shots were fired, killing him instantly, and then more shots followed. Unfortunately, two of Vole's officers were hit, one died instantly. The other was in critical condition and was taken to St. Bartholomew's Hospital where he died hours later from massive blood loss."

"Good, God. Surely, though it more than likely would not have mattered, Matthew's wife was made aware of his death."

"Indeed she did," I replied, remembering the visit quite well. "She seemed to carry no expression on her pale face once the news was broken to her. Her only words were, and I quote 'May he burn forever in the depths of hell alongside his wench and their bastard child.'"

"And the families of the two officials?"

"They have been informed as well, to the least of my delight." For a brief moment there was silence. I could imagine no one knew what to make of this.

"You seemed bothered from it all, Basil," Dawson pointed out rather sympathetically. "If I know you well enough, this is something new."

"Indeed it is, old boy; and of course you are correct. Never has such things bothered me before, but I believe that since so much in my life has changed," I looked at Paula as I finish, "I have been able to look at thing differently."

"One of the constables that were killed was Sanders," Paula stated. Both Dawson and his wife gasped. Like Paula and myself, they too knew him as well as his family. "Jonathan was the one who broke the news to her last night."

"What is she going to tell the children?" Abigail questioned, her tone of hurt.

"The truth hopefully," I answered. "How she will approach them with their father's death, I do not know. But I can say that they are old enough to understand."

"Jonathan that does not matter if they understand, no child wants to hear that their parent has been killed. Even I do not want to be put in that situation, not now, not ever."

"You make it sound as if I am indestructible," I chuckled lightly though I knew the topic of discussion was indeed no laughing matter.

"No one is, but since we are now parents ourselves, it is more painful and an even harsher reality when one has to tell the child and fight to get them, regardless of their age, to understand." Paula paused. "I am aware that your profession is dangerous and that maybe one of these days you will walk out that door and never come back. I am fully aware of the possible reality. But to tell Sara that you will never come back is the one thing I never want to say or have her hear."

She did make a point, and I too was always aware of such a possibility but never thoroughly thought about the major effects said possibility would fall upon her. Once more this made me question why she took the risk of becoming my wife. Yes, I love her more than I ever thought I could love a woman, but it seemed that I never could bring it upon myself to push her away from me. I wanted to be with her, which was why I allowed myself to be involved with her. Even then, however, I never thought of the supposed fate that may one day be bestowed upon me. Where would that leave her and Sara? Would Paula have the strength to move on with her life? Would she allow herself to love anyone else? Well, surely not the last question I am sure.

"How about we move on from this depressing topic," I suggested. "All this is doing is ruining our evening together."

"Yes, I agree," Dawson stepped in, his voice attempting to be cheerful in tone. Paula and Abigail nodded in agreement as well.

"Darling," I began, "would you mind making a fresh pot of tea?"

"Oh, thank you for reminding me," she answered before rising from her seat beside me. "Abigail, would you care to help?" she asked, grabing the tray in front of her.

"Of course." she replied. I watched as both women walked out of the sitting room and into the kitchen. Once more, my heart sank. Sighing deeply, I turned back to Dawson who was aware of why I had Paula leave to room.

"Nothing…?" Dawson asked as I too rose from my seat. Walking over the mantel, I poured two small glasses of brandy for the doctor and myself. Handing one to him, I took a large swig of the strong liquor, its warm feeling welcoming as it slid down my throat.

"Not yet," I answered, my voice tired and worn.

Abigail leaned against the counter as she watched Paula walk about in the kitchen, looking for what she needed. Seeing that Mrs. Judson never let her cook since she became pregnant with Sara, she had forgotten where everything was.

"I trust you did not sleep well again," Abigail commented with great confidence in her assumption. Grabbing a few saucers from the cupboards, Paula gazed at her with confusion. "Your eyes, dear, they seem weary. I imagine it is Sara who is keeping you and your husband awake at night?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, brushing away the few strains of loose hair. "No Sara is actually sleeping well now. I meant to thank Dawson for treating her."

"I am sure David knows." Abigail paused for a moment as she placed the saucers on the large tray Paula had set in front of her. "So… it is a completely different matter then? Do tell me."

"I appreciate your concern Abigail, but I can assure you it is nothing." After filling up the pot with water, Paula handed it over to her so that she could place it on the stove to boil. "For the past month or so, it has just been a bit difficult to sleep at night."

"Have you spoken to Jonathan about it?"

"And worry him more than he already is? I should say not."

"His worries are about you, Paula," Abigail finally said. "Even I know you have trouble letting out your emotions, but…" She sighed. "I... I overheard him and David talking a few days ago and usually I would never dare eavesdrop on their conversations, but the way he looked, well it made me worry. You have not been sleeping because of some reoccurring nightmare. At least that is what your husband thinks it is." Taking a deep, ragged breath, Paula took a seat at the small table. Her eyes looked of pain and guilt.

"So, his assumption is correct. Why won't you tell him?"

"Like I already said if I tell him then he'll worry. We know when that happens he too does not sleep at night."

"It is already happening to him as well. He told David that when you go back to sleep, all he can do is lay there, wondering what is causing these frights of yours. It seems that these nightmares of yours did not begin until-"

"Until a month after Sara was born," Paula finally confessed. Taking a ragged breath, she tried to fight back the tears. "We came home one night and saw that someone had broken in. Luckily Mrs. Judson was out visiting a friend. Downstairs was destroyed, but it did not seem that anything was taken. When Jonathan checked the flat, he saw that they left a note in the baby's bed, which at the time she was sleeping in our bedroom. That is when I began to feel that we were being watched… more so than I was comfortable with."

"Then let him be aware of your troubles," Abigail demanded calmly as she too sat in the other chair by her side, taking Paula's hands into her own. Her heart jumped as she felt them tremble under her own. "The sooner he knows, the sooner he will be able to act."

"But what can he do? He is under enough stress as it is." Paula kept silent for a brief moment before, taking another deep breath. "Or perhaps it is because of me that he is feeling like this."

"My dear, you will not know for certain unless you talk to him." Before silence could creep up, the whistle of the tea pot filled the room. Abigail watched in sorrow as Paula moved about. She could see that the young mouse was at a loss and did not know what to do, if she were to confront her husband at all.

"Have the dreams worsened?" my friend asked softly so that the girls could not hear.

"Not since last night," I told him. "Never have I ever woken up to such chaos."

"So she was trying to get away from you-"

"Dawson, she was beating on my chest as I tried to wake her. Whatever it was she was dreaming about it led her to believe that I was the attacker."

"Good God."

"Never has she been physical with me," I commented mostly to myself before I finally added with guilt, "or I with her."

"What are you talking about, Basil," my friend inquired. I knew such a comment would no doubt arouse his curiosity.

"I…I struck her—But it was all I could think of," I quickly told him when I noticed his look of disapproval.

"That may be, but there are clearly other ways you could have done so. But apart from that, you say she has never had such abnormal reactions to her dreams as she did."

"No," I told him. "Usually I see her tossing and turning or maybe mumbling, but that was about it." Taking another small sip of my brandy, I questioned, "So why now?"

"Well I am not a psychologist, but perhaps she is being haunted by the past and it seems to have taken a firm hold on her to where she can no longer separate reality from imaginary. That could explain why she was fighting you in such a violent fashion."

"The past? What from the past could be haunting her now? The only thing that I can think of is the incident involving James Ratigan, but it is done. "

"Basil, they never found his body. After your flat was broken into, don't you think that would lead her to suspicion, especially panic?"

"If for some ungodly reason he managed to survive, surely you would think after a year and a half, he would have presented himself by now."

"That perhaps might be true, but the fact remains that only she can tell you."

"But she won't, that is what I find aggravating!" I paused to calm and collect myself. Hoping Paula did not hear my outburst. "She knows that she can tell me anything, but she does not for she says it will worry me. Well, not knowing what is bothering her and causing these blasted nightmares is worrying me. Not knowing is what is causing me to lose my concentration."

Without having a chance to response, the conversation ceased when Paula and Abigail returned. I could sense something was troubling my wife by the way she was trying to fake a smile. Perhaps they too were deep in a serious conversation.

"Sorry for the wait," Paula apologized.

"Oh, no trouble at all, my dear," Dawson answered her as she began to serve us. Once she poured herself a cup, she took her place beside me once more. I wanted to question what was bothering her, but I decided against it for all she would do was lie and hastily change the topic. I supposed I would only have to wait until later when Dawson and his wife had left before I badgered her with questions. I only hoped then she would finally open up and tell me, for if not now, then soon.

Perhaps…after two years, she still does not fully trust me…

The small flat was dark and quiet as the small clock on the mantel chimed at the third hour. Few burning embers in the fireplace glowed bright red. Upstairs only the soothing sounds peaceful breathing was heard. Suddenly, upon the dark walls of the staircase, a glowing light emerged as two obscure shadows appeared while ascending. With a loud squeak of the last stair, both figures paused abruptly, waiting with weapons ready if anyone should appear from the bedroom to the right of them. After several minutes of nothing, they carefully skipped the step.

Inside the bedroom, the couple slept peacefully, unaware of the danger before them. The taller intruder motioned for the other one to walk along the other side as he tiptoed towards his victim. Nodding, giving the clear, both reached into their coat pockets, pulling out small needle filled with a large dosage of a clear liquid, carefully and quietly, they leaned forward, injecting the sleeping mice without any struggle. Extracting the needles, they waited, making sure that the drug took effect before making their next move.

"All right they're out," the mouse closest to the door whispered. "Let's get what we came for and get out of here before the damn stuff loses effect." As he made his way towards his escape, the other mouse stood in fear, staring in alarm at the couple before him.

"How long do you think this stuff lasts?"

"How the hell should I know? You know that damned rat doesn't tell us anything. He just shouts his commands like we're his blasted German soldiers; we follow them, and pray to the Lord above we don't get caught. So unless you want to stick around like a bloomin' idiot and find out, get caught standing by the detective's bedside, be my guest. I on the other hand am the getting out of here and hope I get paid what I deserve." Both kept silent. "I thought so, just do what you got to do and let's move. Being this close is making me uncomfortable."

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