July 8, Summer, year 36

Sleep eludes me. On the one hand, I don't dream, on the other, it affects the day to day living.

I've learned though that if I nap during the day I don't dream in the slightest. I'd better hurry, it's almost time for the judging of the cow in the Cow festival.

Mmm, chocolate milk sounds really good right about now.

With an animal in the festival, Claire was not allowed to be a real judge, but she was—like the rest of the people there—allowed to be a taste-tester for the unmarked milk cans.

Alan hated milk, and Mirei despised it without chocolate in it, but the other members of her family seemed to love it as much as the blonde herself, and happily applied themselves to the testing in the same manner as their tired mother.

She leaned against Skye, and unlike most times it was not for show. The dreams had been making it next to impossible for her to catch more than two hours of sleep at any time, and the brief naps she took during the day once all the work was finished simply wasn't replacing the lost energy.

"You shouldn't be here," he said softly as she sipped a small cup of milk and made a face. "You should be home, resting."

"I'm not going to pass out Skye," and her voice lacked the bite the words would normally have held. "And I want to be here. It's…"

She struggled for a minute with the words, her exhaustion making them slip beyond her reach.

"It's safer," she finally sighed. "And no, I don't understand why. I think it's you…"

How could he say no to that? He knew better than anyone how little Claire liked to be thought of as weak, how little she liked to be protected. If she was voluntarily submitting to said protection… as Jill often put it, it was three blocks south of the Twilight Zone. Barely.

So he closed his teeth over more words of worry, just holding her and giving her the silent support she apparently needed.

Alan and Mirei had run off to play with their friends, but Jamie and Laurie were keeping a close eye on their mother. The didn't catch the quiet conversation, but it was clear who came out on top, and Lauren shook her head.

"Dad's never going to make her leave you know," Jamie commented idly. "More than he wants her to go home he wants to protect her."

"Oh, you have a wealth of knowledge now that you're fifteen dear twin?" Lauren's sarcasm was a biting as her mother's was not, making Jamie give her a sour look.

"It's a guy thing," he snorted. "Guys protect the ones they love."

"Girls can do it too," Lauren pointed out, annoyance vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. "Mom does a good job of protecting us, after all."

"Mom is… Mom," Jamie shrugged, blue eyes reflective. "And I know there's lots of girls like her too."

He nudged his twin with his foot, grinning slightly. Lauren snorted her amusement, and picked up another milk jug to taste.

"But initially the guy wants to do the protecting," he continued. "And that's why Dad will let her stay until she's ready to leave. It's his way of protecting her, based on what all she might've said."

"Yeah, alright," Lauren sighed, "I'll grant you that one. I kind of wish she'd talk about it though…"

"She's Mom," Jamie replied, as if it explained everything.

And oddly enough, it did.

Didn't win this year, but that's alright. I think Clover is a bit unhappy because I haven't been spending a lot of time in the fields with her. I hardly had time to catch my nap before someone wanted something… I hope I don't dream tonight.


-Midnight-

Claire moaned softly in her sleep, rolling first in one direction than the other. The only reason she had the room to do this was because—at her insistence—Skye had gone to check up on his family status.

Since the expansion to the girl's room had been completed, Meredith had begun to sleep with her sisters instead of her mother. She didn't like it, but it was better for her, and it eased Claire's mind to think that she wouldn't toss and turn onto her four-year old child.

She was running… no, not her, a male body. But she was with him, and he was running. There was a distance to this run, as if the panic and fear itself were very far away.

A glance over the shoulder revealed the blue-tinted glass-looking knife that she had seen before. Just from the other end. It didn't take her long to realize that she was not the antagonist this time, but the victim.

She struggled against the sleep then, trying to avoid what she knew was coming.

The scream woke the entire house, and everyone tumbled into the bedroom. Claire was sitting up in the bed, blue eyes wide in such a pale face, almost the shade of one of the glowing roses that she loved so much. The blankets were clutched in what could kindly be called a death grip, and even with her children around her, it took several long minutes before she could relax her hands enough to release said covers.

Mute and shaking, she stared blankly at her kids, all of whom were trying to get her to speak. All with the same degree of success, that is to say, none.

"Jamie, go get Dad," Lauren snapped. "Get him back here now!"

The teenager flew, not even bothering to grab his boots. The summer night was muggy and warm, it wasn't like it mattered too much.

"Dad!" he called, running up the path to the Goddess Pond. "Dad!"

Skye blinked, turning away from the messenger who sniffed a little at being dismissed for a child, even a son. He caught Jamie as the boy stumbled to a halt, brows drawing together in concern as the teen gasped for breath.

"Mom," he panted. "Can't make her… respond! Gotta come home!"

Skye looked to the messenger, who simply bowed and vanished. Then his sea-green gaze returned to his oldest son, and Jamie straightened a little, despite the stitch in his side.

"What happened to Claire?" Skye asked quietly.

"Nightmare?" the teenager offered, knowing how weak it sounded. "She screamed Dad…"

Which was entirely unlike Claire, enough so that Skye immediately started off, pulling his son with him.

While they waited for Jamie to return, Lauren had taken quick, efficient control of the situation.

"Mirei, go put some milk in Mom's favorite cup and nuke it for thirty seconds, then add the chocolate. Alan, there's a box of blankets in Mom's sewing room, get the pale pink one from the box and bring it out to the couch."

Glad for something to do besides be afraid for their mother, the younger twins darted off to do their assigned duties. Lauren reached out and lightly touched Claire's hands, which were almost as pale as her face.

Claire jumped about a foot at the gentle touch, and it was clear that it took her several seconds to recognize her own daughter.

"Mom," and Lauren pitched her voice in the way Claire had done before, to soothe them when they had their own bad dreams. "Mom, we're gonna move out to the couch to wait for Dad, okay?"

A long silence followed the question, then a slow nod of acquiescence that was so unlike her mother that Laurie found herself wanting to cry. Meredith was the only child left, standing in the doorway and rubbing sleepily as her eyes as her four-year-old mind tried to make sense of the bizarre scene.

Lauren had to lead Claire like she was an invalid to the couch, Meri following like a silent shadow and clambering into Claire's lap once it was available. The familiar weight of a child, the blanket she'd had since she was that age, and the warm chocolate milk slowly started to bring the color back into Claire's face.

Words however, still eluded her, and nothing Lauren said got more than a nod or shake of her blonde head. She just hadn't fully reconnected enough with the real world.

Skye pushing the door open got a great deal more than that. For once entirely heedless of drink or small child, Claire let both go—Lauren was able to catch her sister, but the handle of the cup broke into several pieces—and flung herself over the back of the couch at her husband.

Now she regained her speech, but it was mixed with panicked tears, and gulping sobs, garbled into unintelligibility. Skye just held her close, letting her hide against him in a way that she so rarely did, and murmured soothingly.

Meredith, bewildered, nearly started to cry herself. Lauren hushed her gently, soothing the baby of the family back to sleep in a manner almost identical to the way that Skye was attempting to soothe his wife.

They were all unwilling to leave their mother in such a state, but in truth they were as bewildered as Meri, and as the adrenaline drained out of them, exhaustion crept back in. Alan and Mirei tried to stifle their yawns.

Skye looked at his children, and gave them proud smiles.

"Go back to bed," he said softly. "I'll tell you what happened in the morning."

Slowly, reluctantly, the two sets of twins—one carrying the four-year-old—did, drifting back to their rooms where, despite the sleepiness, they continued to lay awake for some time, worrying about their mother.

It took Claire almost two hours to calm down enough to be able to speak coherently, at which point they were sitting on the couch together. Gold and silver hair mingled as Skye continued to be rock that Claire held onto with an almost desperate strength.

"I was… running," she finally managed thickly, tears still sliding down her face. "Running from someone who… was pursuing me to kill me. Because that way they could… could further a plan to kill someone else!"

She shudder, and his arms tightened around her shoulders. Had he not known better he would have said it sounded like what had happened to Laurie's namesake… Except Damien had snuck up on Lauren then, there had been no running.

Also, Lauren's spirit had moved on to the next life, after teasing him one last time. There was no way that it was a post-cognitive dream.

"The knife," she whispered softly, answering his unspoken question. "Blue… like glass, or maybe ice. It glowed as it-"

He cut her off then, as she began to shake again, running his fingers through her long, unbound hair.

A blue glass knife… it almost sounded like one of the ritual daggers needed to execute a traitor up in the Kingdoms of the Moon. Magically enchanted to be stronger than even diamond, those knives could end a PoM life faster than anything else in the known world. They were also called 'Soul Stealers' and where harder than hell to obtain outside of a war.

Why had she dreamed about something like that?

He smoothed the tears from her cheeks, smoothed her hair from her face, and didn't try to make her look up at him. She needed comfort now, in a way that she hadn't needed in a very long time, and all his questions could wait until she was less… abjectly panicked.

Slowly, eased by his voice, hands, and just general presence, Claire began to calm down again. Skye continued to wait, judging carefully. He had to know more, but he also had to be careful about asking. It wouldn't do to have her panic all over again into incoherency.

"These are the dreams you've been having?" he asked her gently, as the grandfather clock stuck fifteen minutes past four in the morning. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted them… to make sense," she whispered, fingers still curled tightly in the fabric of his shirt. "I didn't want to talk to you about things I couldn't make sense of… and I thought they were just dreams! What else was I supposed to think?"

Sky sighed faintly, too relived to have her talking normally again to be annoyed.

"Claire, my love," he gently brushed his fingertips against her cheek. "When dreams make you lose sleep, it's something you need to talk about next time, okay? I don't want you to suffer like this again."

She looked up at last, blue eyes meeting and holding sea-green. So much swirled in those depths, Skye noted. Fear definitely, sorrow, uncertainty… and love, underneath it all.

"Okay," she nodded at last. "Okay…"

He let out a longer, more clearly relieved sigh, leaned in, and kissed her forehead gently.

"Come on, You need to at least try to get some sleep… Your sister might not be able to reach me, but Muffy sure can, and your cousins hits hard!"

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips as Skye stood, then picked her up, cradling her to his chest. The steady beating of his heart lulled her into a half-aware state.

Unfortunately that state didn't get to last very long. As Skye pushed open the door to their bedroom, the Moon Rose resting on the windowsill—in the same pot that he had given her sixteen years go—flared an almost blinding white. Claire closed her eyes tightly, hiding her face into Skye's chest, and he shifted his grip on her, attempting to shade his eyes as well.

When the light died away, there was a messenger there, one Skye had never seen before. She went down on one knee, head bowed, and spoke the words that the former thief had believed he had years before he would hear.

"Prince Sora, your father has passed away. Your Honored Mother requires your presence as quickly as possible."