A/N: I can't thank you guys enough for your kind reviews! I'm so glad that everyone liked the first part and I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. As always, I recommend listening to the song "The Lightning Strike" (by Snow Patrol) while reading this chapter, particularly the second section because they go along together. Hopefully the song will make reading this little story even better. Thanks again for your kind words! And this chapter is for retwin, who is bored at work :)

(ii.) The Sunlight Through the Flags

The fluorescent lights overhead are blinding and Marta squints as she opens her eyes, disoriented and momentarily blinded. She turns her head away and finds herself staring at stark white walls. There's not even a window to give her a glimpse of the outside world or provide her with any hint as to where she is. The only thing she knows for sure is that she's laying in a bed, surrounded by a sea of white. Her wrists are being held down at her sides by padded leather cuffs. Marta looks at her wrists; how very One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. That comparison does not make Marta feel better.

She tries to sit up but of course she's kept in place, forced to play Sleeping Beauty. Marta pulls against her restraints, pulling on the cuffs and rattling the buckles in hopes of causing a ruckus and bringing someone into whatever room she's been sequestered too. She might not remember how she got here but she knows this isn't right. She's not supposed to be here. Marta calls up her last memory: watching the sun set over the middle of the ocean while on a fishing boat heading for destinations unknown to her. She remembers the warm body standing beside her, the safety of his presence.

That can't be right. How can that be her last memory? How can she have gone from standing on the deck of a fishing boat to being restrained to a bed in a white room? Clearly, she's missing something.

All her struggling has finally drawn some attention. The white door in front of Marta's bed opens and an unfamiliar bespectacled man steps into the room. He's short, a little round and his face looks kind, though Marta automatically doesn't trust him. She doesn't feel like she's in a very trusting position.

The man is carrying a clipboard and wearing a white lab coat, buttoned across his front. Marta can see a lamented ID badge clipped to his pocket but she can't read his name from where she lays. He gives her a smile as he steps up to her bedside.

"Dr. Shearing," he says warmly, "how are we feeling?" He rests a hand over her cuffed wrist, trying to still her struggling.

Marta glares at him. "Where am I?" She snaps out. "Who are you?"

The look he gives her now is kindness mixed with a hint of exasperation, the sort of look you'd give to a child who's asked you for the fiftieth time why the sky is blue. Like they've had this conversation before.

"You know me, Marta." He reminds her gently. "It's Dr. Christensen. You're in Lakeview."

Marta's brow knits. "Lakeview." She repeats. The name sounds familiar on her tongue but she can't quite place it. "How did I get here?"

Dr. Christensen writes something down on the clipboard in his hands and for some reason that annoys Marta. It's okay when she's the one making notes and observations but she is not the lab rat.

"Marta, perhaps you should go see Dr. Rivers." The man suggests. "He prefers to be the one to answer those types of questions."

Marta narrows her eyes at him. "I'm asking you." She snarls. There's a pause and neither of them says anything. "Where's Aaron?" She questions, suddenly feeling desperate to know. She can't believe she hasn't asked this before. "I want to see Aaron."

Dr. Christensen sighs and makes another note on his clipboard. "Marta, I really recommend talking about this with Dr. Rivers. You know he's -"

"Where's Aaron!" Marta doesn't care that she's shouting and probably looks crazy jerking against her wrist restraints like they're actually going to give way. "Where is he?" She looks at Dr. Christensen, eyes burning. If someone has hurt Aaron they'll have to deal with her. She might be small but she's feisty and very, very angry right now.

Dr. Christensen pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Dr. Shearing, we've talked about this before. There is no Aaron." He says this gently, patiently. Again, like they've had this conversation many times before. "He's just a figment of your imagination, a creation to help you deal with stress."

Marta gapes at him. She doesn't even bother to hide her surprise. "Are you fucking crazy." She shakes her head. "He's not a figment of my imagination. How can you even say that?" She can sense her voice rising, bordering on hysterical. Again, she doesn't care.

"It's a perfectly normal response, giving the amount of trauma you experienced." Dr. Christensen assures her. "The massacre at the lab…watching Dr. Foite kill your colleagues. No one thinks any less of you for conjuring up these fantasies. That's why you're here," he says gently, "so you can rest, relax. The sooner you let go of this Aaron fantasy, the sooner you can leave here. Get back to your work. Don't you want that, Dr. Shearing?"

This man isn't making any sense. What does Dr. Foite have to do with any of this? Of course it was traumatic to watch all her friends get killed, who could possibly think it wasn't? But what does that…suddenly Marta knows where she's heard the name Lakeview before. It's the mental institution south of the lab where she worked, a place only referred to in passing, a place she never thought would have any connection to her.

Marta is still staring at him, eyes wide. "A fantasy?" She repeats. "Aaron is not a fantasy! People are trying to kill us. What are you talking about?" She starts pulling at her restraints once more. She has to get out of this place. She has to find Aaron. Now.

Dr. Christensen sighs and shakes his head. "I'm going to send Kellie in with something to calm you down, okay Marta." He gives her a tight smile. "That will make you feel better."

"No!" Marta calls after him, watching helplessly as he leaves the room. "I'm not crazy. Aaron!" She's desperate for him to show up now, her knight in shining armor, to save her from this new hell.

Marta wakes up with Aaron's name on her lips, her throat sore from shouting for him. She jerks upright, her hands still clawing at invisible restraints. She's not in a hospital. She's not tied to a bed. She's on the floor, covered by a thin sheet, tucked in the sleeping quarters of a fishing trawler. She can feel the gentle rocking of the waves, can hear the sound of the boat as it moves through the water. She can also hear the pounding of her heart and her skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Marta closes her eyes and scrubs her hands across her face. It was only a dream. A nightmare. It felt so real, everything about it was real. Thankfully, her subconscious was just dreaming in high def.

Opening her eyes, Marta looks to her left. Instead of seeing Aaron there, her eyes fall on an empty sleeping pallet. His absence shouldn't surprise her; he never would have gone that long without responding to her shouting his name, even if she was just yelling for him in her sleep. She feels a tightness in her chest, panic at his absence. He's never left her alone. Where is he?

Marta gets to her feet and leaves their room. She has to fight down the urge to go tearing through the ship screaming for him. She doesn't want to wake the fisherman and his sons or call unnecessary attention to herself or Aaron. She can tell the fisherman is already skeptical of the two of them and staying in his good graces is the only thing keeping them on the boat. She highly doubts he'll appreciate the wake-up call.

When Marta makes it onto the deck, she doesn't stop to appreciate the gentle breeze or admire the full moon shining in the sky. She doesn't stop to think about how she's never seen so many stars before. All she cares about is finding Aaron.

He's standing by the railing, staring toward the horizon, his mind occupied with countless thoughts. Marta reaches for him just as he realizes that she's there and he whirls around to face her, on the offense. He grabs her wrist in mid-reach and his grip is painful but Marta can hardly bring herself to care. He is not a figment of her imagination. He is real.

Quickly, Aaron releases her wrist, eyes softening. "I'm sorry." He says quickly, searching her face for some hint of fear. Fear of him. He doesn't like the look on her face. "What's the matter?"

Marta doesn't know what to say. She suddenly feels foolish. "I…I had a nightmare. And…you were gone…" She's not a child, why did she feel the need to run to him?

But Aaron doesn't seem to think she's being ridiculous. He actually looks guilty about not being there when she needed him. "It's okay." He says softly. "It was only a dream. It can't hurt you."

That's only a small comfort. There are so many things that can hurt her. Though, apparently when her subconscious gets free range, the only thing she dreams of is losing him. She's starting to think that might hurt the most.

Marta closes her eyes and tries to block out the memories of her nightmare. It still feels too real; she can still feel the restraints on her wrists. She can still hear the doctor telling her that Aaron doesn't exist. When she opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is Aaron.

"I dreamt…they said…" Marta doesn't know why the words are trapped in her throat. She's never been one to lose her voice, even when she's emotional. That was one of the things Peter Boyd hated about her: her ability to be completely coherent in the middle of a screaming match, not giving him the chance to get a word in edgewise. "They said you were gone."

Aaron slowly reaches for her hand, twining their fingers together. After a pause, he pulls her to him, still moving slowly, like he wants to make sure that is okay. Marta doesn't resist his embrace. "I'm here Doc." He assures her, smiling to himself as she rests her head against his chest. He likes the way it feels to hold her against him like this. "You're not going to lose me."

The past few days have been a whirlwind. They've felt like a dream or like the impossible plot to a made for TV movie she never would have watched. But this moment feels real. Aaron is real. And Marta is finally starting to feel real too.

Why don't you rest your fragile bones/A minute ago you looked alone/Stop waving your arms, you're safe and dry/Breathe in and drink up the winter sky.