The room was dark, too dark, Fiona realised. Very rarely did the torches go out in her tower room. Eyes suddenly alive after just waking from a deep sleep, the ogress scanned the room. There was nothing odd, nothing peculiar at all. Except the torches. She tried to think back to putting them out. She remembered transforming, she remembered putting the children to bed, she remembered finding a new style of nightdress in her wardrobe that had been magically shifted to her nighttime form, she remembered kissing her husband goodnight - a renewed routine in their life. But she didn't remember putting out the torches. In the rare occasion that she did, it was always with great effort; there was no way she'd forget.

If she didn't put them out, then… who did?

As far as Fiona was aware, she was the only occupant of the tower room. Everyone else… well… they were… she didn't really know. She turned her head, staring at the door. The door that was always locked. How would someone have gotten in?

"Hello?" she spoke shakily from her position on the bed.

There was silence in return, but it did little to reassure her. The fear started setting in as she ran her eyes around the room again. Her heart began racing and her breath grew rapid. At first she didn't notice it, but then she was sure - the room was getting darker. Darker, and darker still until she could no longer see the door across the room.

"Hello?" she mumbled again.

"Fiona?" a distant voice answered. She couldn't place it, no one emerged from the darkness.

She looked to the other side of her, she could see the night sky out the window, the moon. She stared at it, hoping maybe the room would take shape around her again.

"Fiona," the voice was back, it was closer. Recognition struck her, it was her husband, though that only made her panic more. She suddenly couldn't move. She was stuck staring out of the window at the moon, the room remaining a dark shroud around her. If she could hear Shrek's voice… then why was she back-

The room began glowing around her. She sucked in a breath and blinked rapidly. The darkness was suddenly gone, the clumsy shape of the window was familiar within the rough walls of her home. She turned her head on her pillow and realised her husband was holding her arm, shaking her awake. He stood beside his side of the bed, leaning over to her. There were matches in his other hand, and a new, roughly shaped candle lit on the nightstand. The old one was burnt out, no longer able to hold a flame.

"Oh." She released her breath, acknowledging the way her heart raced.

"The candle burnt out." He gave a quiet, awkward chuckle.

She gave an equally quiet, awkward chuckle in return. She stared up at the ceiling, taking long, slow breaths in and out. Allowing her senses to dim the smell of sulphur and the sound of lava churning. She watched as her husband peaked through the curtains to their children sleeping soundly in the squared off section of their living area; a new arrangement to give the couple their own space away from the babies. She could assume their plans to expand their home were going to continue in the morning, she allowed her brain to be filled with the distraction. It was good to be busy. In fact, it was a surprise for a nightmare to happen while her mind was mostly occupied.

Shrek climbed back into bed beside her. She quickly found his hand, holding it. He squeezed hers affectionately. She closed her eyes, her body finally finding peace. Something was odd, though. She opened her eyes again. Shrek continued to firmly hold her hand, not loosening his grip. He often liked to break the awkward tension when she had a nightmare, or at the very least they'd have a brief conversation. But not tonight. She looked at him, he was watching her from his pillow with sad eyes. He didn't look away from her or change his expression, even when she crossed her brow at him.

"What?" she asked, giving another awkward, hesitant laugh.

"...I'm sorry," he mumbled, not returning her gesture. Against her first instinct, it was quickly apparent to her that he wasn't apologising for staring.

She hesitated, pulling their joined hands above the blanket. "For what?"

Alarm grew within her. They were in a turbulent time of their marriage. Well… she thought they were exiting that turbulent time. Routines were finally feeling normal again. She had finally relished in the feeling of forgetting what he did. He had the same look about him as when he'd initially confessed to his little contract signing adventure months ago and every conversation they'd had about it since. She hadn't seen that look in a good while now. Then again, she hadn't had a nightmare either. Her hackles raised even further.

"For what?" she asked again at his lack of response. She felt her breathing become dysregulated once more.

"Fer… not-" he faltered, sighing, "Fer what ye went through."

She crossed her brow again, loosening her grip on his hand, though he maintained his. "What do you mean?"

He finally looked away, shrugging at her. "I dunno… If I've ever said something, anything uh- insensitive about it. I guess I didn't really understand until-" he paused, eyes suddenly on her again.

She sat up, pulling her hand away from his, eyes glued to his guilty face. "Until what?" she pressed him. "It's about the alternate univer-"

Shrek looked away, nodding, confirming before she could finish what she was saying. The embers of that anger she'd shaken rekindled themselves.

"I saw the tower," he mumbled, suddenly avoiding her gaze.

"You what?"

She shifted away from him under the blanket, he suddenly seemed dangerous to her all over again. Just as they'd moved past it.

"I was looking for you… and the tower was the logical place to look."

She figured he'd told her everything before. She hadn't asked him to confirm, but she hadn't even thought to. The stories he did tell her were damning enough. Clearly he was still holding some cards close to his chest. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" She kept her voice low.

"Well… I…"

She widened her eyes as his secret suddenly formed clarity in her mind. "You went… into the tower?" she interrupted him. Of course, that was something he'd hold back. Something he definitely wouldn't want to tell her. Except, he was bad at keeping secrets. If it had been something lighter, she would've allowed herself to be surprised or even impressed that he'd managed to keep it from her for so long.

"Uh- yah," he confirmed.

Fiona opened her mouth to speak but nothing happened. Her brain leapt to conclusions and backtracked on them. She began spinning her mind in circles trying to tie things together.

"I saw the marks on the-" He stopped abruptly as her gaze landed on him, her eyebrows high and creased. Her anger suddenly dropped, all but forgotten about. Her eyes began filling with tears, she pressed her lips together, trying to take steady breaths through her nose.

The marks on the wall. The ones she made when she thought she'd finally gone crazy. The ones she wasn't even sure what they were counting. Just the days passing long after she'd finished the final calendar - of the ones she'd made herself. The marks she would count and recount, and count again just to pass the time. In the tower where she'd paced so much she could swear her path was visible if you squinted right. Where she'd screamed and sobbed and roared and been silent for days at a time. Where she'd been trapped and surviving for thirteen years.

That look was back in his eyes as he quietly watched her. Except she now realised the difference between this sadness and the guilty expression she'd mistaken it for.

"I'm not crazy," she shook her head at him, her voice cracking as she did so. She frantically blinked the tears away.

"I- No… I'm not saying that."

"Stop looking at me like I am."

He looked away from her. "I'm not."

"You… you look…" she exhaled her frustration, "I didn't want you to see that."

She looked away from him. Her mind raced. She wasn't even sure why she felt so hurt and threatened by it. He'd been in the room before, he'd crashed right into it. But he hadn't looked. It was clear now by the way he was silent. He viewed her differently now he'd seen it.

Things had been so different for them recently, nothing had been natural for a while, he didn't have reason to think about it. Until now. Until she brought it up by having constant nightmares, being haunted by memories she wished would leave her. He now understood. Or at least, he understood a little more. In different circumstances perhaps she'd have been quietly pleased by that. In different circumstances where she'd allowed him into her world, instead he'd done so when she wasn't looking, when she wasn't even present in the universe. Perhaps that alternate version of her wouldn't have cared about him seeing evidence of her time there, perhaps she would have showed him around and told him to make himself at home. She felt the same hostility she'd managed to shake off returning.

"I'm sorry."

She'd heard those words far too many times. They barely meant anything now. He'd mostly shown her how sorry he was and it had worked. Things were working and now he'd broken them again.

She finally moved, laying back down, turning away from him. Conversations between them had largely been productive, but in that moment words were stuck in her throat. Tears blurred her vision as her brain involuntarily took her to that room. The smell of sulphur wafted back and the heat beneath the blanket grew to the temperature of a volcano. She felt the chalk between her fingertips, remembering what it was like to scratch it against the brickwork. Sometimes she'd rub the chalk against the wall so much it would wear away entirely, or snap in her fingers. Of course, when she'd look down it would have magically regenerated, allowing her to do it again and again, day after day. Never ending. Until she was rescued. Because he did rescue her, and marry her, and had spent the past few months doing everything he possibly could to keep that marriage intact.

She felt him sit up and swing his legs off of the bed to stand.

"No," she felt the word quietly erupt out of her throat. In the first week or so after his confession he'd slept in his chair. She'd always hated being alone, but in those first days she didn't like him being around her while she cried. It wasn't like she was sleeping much anyway. This felt different. The fear of being alone trumped any feeling of hurt she held. It almost frustrated her the way she needed him at that moment.

He pulled his legs back into the bed, laying down again in silence.

She took slow silent breaths, still facing the wall. She desperately ignored the way her senses tried to drag her back to the tower, trying to halt the tears she didn't want to fall. After a while passed - she wasn't sure how long - she sighed. Despite their quiet, he definitely hadn't fallen asleep behind her. Unlike all of the other problems he'd highlighted in their life, there was nothing he could do to remedy this instance. Nothing that would help shut out that room.

Fiona took a deep breath, summoning the words from her throat. "I would obsess over making sure the tapestry wouldn't curl up to reveal what was on that wall," she said slowly, still not turning to face him, "Multiple times a day. I guess in that universe I didn't care so much." A tear fell from her eye, rolling down onto her nose and dripped onto the pillow. She sniffed. "Maybe I did go… a little crazy."

"No, you-" he stopped himself. "Well… maybe ye did. Ye married me, so…" there was a hesitant chuckle.

Fiona smiled, despite herself. She felt him stroke her shoulder with the back of his fingers, rhythmic and comforting. She watched the flickering light on the wall.

"Is that everything?" she asked in a low voice. She gripped the pillow a little tighter, expression returning to sadness.

"Hm?" His movement stopped, hand frozen against her back.

"You've told me everything about that universe now?" As soon as she said it, she regretted it; bracing herself for the answer.

"Yes. That's everything." His hand turned and flattened, palm against her shoulder. He stroked her with his thumb while he held onto her.

She felt her mind release the grip on her frustration ever so slightly. "You promise?"

"Aye. I promise."


. . .

This was written in a couple hour long frenzy. I have SO many unfinished BNOW concepts, and yet I had a brainwave and this one pushed its way to the front of the queue.

Thank you rawshark for helping me figure out the end!