Jennifer had never felt cold like it before.
An icy wind that felt like it sliced all the way to the marrow of her bones.
Where was she? And why was she in a PT kit of T-shirt and shorts?
Not the whole kit. Her feet were bare.
No wonder she was shivering.
But Jennifer still had no idea where she was – or why she was so underdressed for it.
The dim light above her turned harsh and glaring. A cold white light that blinded her for a moment.
She closed her eyes and heard a painful whimper slip out before she could stop it.
"Forgotten all your training so soon?" Overunit Wilson's voice.
Jennifer forced her eyes back open and looked all around for her former mentor. Couldn't see her. Couldn't see anyone.
All she could see was a glittering expanse that stretched as far as she could see in any direction. Diamonds? Crystals of some sort – maybe ice? Ice might explain the cold…
"We throw a little light on you, and you cry like a baby. Weak and pathetic." the Overunit mocked.
Before Jennifer could reply, an unseen force shoved her to her hands and knees.
Pain shot through every point of contact.
The cold glittering substance was neither diamonds nor crystals of any kind.
Broken glass.
"There was a time when you would have crawled this field without making a sound."
But Dread Youth cadets had never had to crawl across a field like this. The Overunits had other ways of testing their tolerance of pain with complete lack of emotional response. The simulations were all neat and tidy, shedding no blood and leaving no marks.
But the pain had always felt real enough.
"Now look at how far you have fallen…"
Fallen? She tried to look up again, but the light was too harsh.
"You were destined for a glorious place of honor in the New Order, but you threw that away. You chose this, Chase. You chose this pain instead."
She had no answer for that. She tried to think of what the Captain… Jon…had said to her. About having been through the fire… having already come out the other side…
Was this the other side? It felt no better than the fire had. Maybe even worse.
"You chose this," the voice echoed in her head. "You chose to listen to the lies of our enemies."
No. You were the one who lied to me. You… all the other Overunits… Dread himself…
Brave words formed in her mind, but they wouldn't come to her lips.
But the tears did. Little streams so hot, they felt like they were burning her face.
She couldn't tell which stung the most – the biting cold of the wind, the salty heat of the tears, or the jagged edges of glass piercing her palms, knees, and feet.
"You chose the pain. And everything else that comes with it."
She tried to push herself back up - to retreat to the tiny bare patch she had been standing on. But it was gone – covered in the same sharp shards that were driving into every contact she made with the ground.
"You chose to be a deserter, Chase. There is no going back for you."
No way forward, either. Or in any other direction. Unless…
Move!
The command wasn't an audible voice. It was something felt, rather than heard.
I can't…
Move or die!
She forced herself forward – even as her whole body began to rack with sobs.
Overunit Wilson's voice returned.
"You made your choice. Now you must suffer the consequences…"
The words echoed in her head as she crawled forward, inch by painful inch. Blood dripping from her hands to mark her moves. She shuddered to imagine how much more her legs and feet were leaving in her wake.
You made your choice. Now you must suffer…
You must suffer…
Suffer…
Something inside her broke, and she collapsed into the stinging shards-
She woke with a start to find herself back in MedBay.
"Jennifer?" The Captain… Jon… was there again, his hands gently grasping her shoulders. Just like he had the night before.
"Another nightmare?"
She couldn't find her voice. All she could do was nod as she shivered.
"You were crying and shivering in your sleep, so I thought I'd better wake you. Can you tell me about it?"
"Cold… so cold…" She was shivering so much she could barely get any words out. "I still feel… so cold..."
"And I think I might know why." He lifted one hand to her forehead and held it there for a second.
"Let me check your hands, okay?"
She found herself pulling away instead. "Last night… you said to tell myself… that I had been through the fire… and come out the other side…"
He sighed. "I honestly didn't think that your subconscious would take you from one extreme to the other. But I also think there's something else behind that nightmare."
"What…?"
"Did they teach you anything about heatstroke in the Dread Youth? About how it can affect the body's ability to regulate its temperature – even days later?"
That sounded vaguely familiar, but it was so hard to think straight. Hard to think of anything but the cold.
"Let me just hold your hands for a moment, and I'll explain while we get them warmed up."
She hesitated.
"No tricks, I promise. It's compassion. Just like the last time. All right?"
"Compassion…" It came out as barely a whisper as she struggled to remember the lesson from the day before.
"… means 'to suffer with…'…"
"You must suffer…"
"But you don't have to go through it alone…"
"Jennifer?" Jon's voice broke into her thoughts.
She nodded and held out the hands that wouldn't stop trembling.
His hands were warm. So warm. She didn't even mind the tenderness of the lingering sunburn. Anything was better than the feeling of cold broken glass in that nightmare…
"Cold as ice…" he muttered before looking her in the eye again. "But they're not numb, are they?"
She shook her head.
"Okay, good. Just let me know if holding them like this starts to hurt more than it helps. I know that sunburn must still be tender."
She nodded. "What's… happening… to me…?
"Like I said, sometimes after heatstroke, your body can have trouble regulating its own temperature. You can go through episodes of feeling cold like this - or going to the other extreme and spiking a fever even though there's nothing else wrong with you."
"Will it… happen again?"
"Possibly. There's no way to know for certain. We hoped you were out of the woods after yesterday, but Hawk thought we needed to stay prepared for at least a few more days. That's why we kept this here for you." He reached for a folded blanket at the foot of her bed. Had it been there all this time? She wasn't sure.
"Here." He unfolded the blanket and draped it around her shoulders. "Does that help?"
"A little…" But she still couldn't stop shaking. And she still felt frozen to the core.
How long would it take the rest of her to feel warm again?
"Would it be all right if I tried hugging you?"
She found herself staring back at him, unable to answer the question.
"Just holding you, like Hawk did earlier. Body heat could warm you up faster than that blanket alone."
That made sense. But it also went against a lifetime of lessons condemning any unnecessary physical touch as evil.
And yet… that… hug… from Hawk had felt good… and right… somehow….
"Jennifer?"
She nodded.
"Okay. One second."
Releasing her, he stood up and unbuckled his gunbelt - draping it over the chair behind him – just like Hawk had done.
"I'm not going to do anything more than Hawk did earlier. So you're not going to have any reason to go after that gun. We've got that trust between us, right?"
"Right…" she echoed.
"Good." He sat back down next to her, wrapped his arms around the blanket, and drew her in.
Some instinct that she had felt in that first tentative hug with Hawk took over as she gingerly brought her arms around him in return, letting her newly thawed hands press gently against his back – taking in the warmth he was offering her. That same instinct led her to rest her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as she did so.
It felt warm. It felt safe. It felt…right…
"Just let me know if the chills get worse again or anything else doesn't feel right to you, okay?"
She nodded, not even minding the feel of his uniform against her sunburned face. The warmth was worth the tenderness. The shivering began to ease up as she relaxed into his… what was the word he had used earlier?
Embrace…
She liked the sound of that word – the feel of that word…
And then there was nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the feeling of warmth and safety slowly overpowering the grip of the cold. She felt like she could almost drift back to sleep without fear…
Almost.
A thought flickered in her mind. The oddest feeling that she had been held like this before – and not just by Hawk. Sometime in the distant past…
But that was impossible – wasn't it? Her entire life had been spent in the Dread Youth. No one there would have ever held her like this…
But Scout had said something about everyone having a mother and a father, so maybe…
A new shudder went through her and took all her thoughts with it.
"Jennifer? You okay?"
No! But she couldn't say it – or even shake her head. She couldn't move. And she felt like… it was as if she had forgotten how to think at all.
Jon had pulled back to look her in the eye again. "Talk to me. Did the chills just hit you again?"
No. She could still feel a little of the chill, but that shudder was something different. So was this feeling of paralysis.
Then something released her muscles. She shook her head and found her voice again in the same moment.
"No. I mean… I can still feel the cold…just a little… but… this was…" she fought for the right words. "I felt like I was falling asleep – and something jerked me awake - and then I couldn't move at all for a moment… it felt like I couldn't even think…" Saying that last part out loud sounded insane to her own ears. What if that was exactly what was happening – what if she really was losing her mind?
He let out a sigh. Was that… relief? "You've never experienced a hypnagogic jerk before, have you?"
This terrifying sensation had a name… and he didn't sound… worried by it? Could she have heard him wrong? "A what?"
"A hypnagogic jerk. That's the real name for it, honest. It's an involuntary full-body muscle contraction that sometimes happens when we start to fall asleep. Scary, but essentially harmless."
"Harmless?" It had felt anything but.
"Physically harmless, I mean. But didn't I also just say that I know it's scary?"
"How do you know? Have you ever had one?" She snapped back at him, not knowing why she suddenly felt angry again.
"Yes. More than a few. Exactly the way you described it. A few times with the same sort of sleep paralysis you just had, too. I know how terrifying that is, okay? Waking up to find yourself not being able to move at all – I think it's impossible not to be frightened by that." It was the same calm and comforting tone of voice he'd been using since he woke her from the nightmare – but somehow it didn't make her feel better now.
"What causes it?"
"A lot of the time, we don't know. But stress is one possibility, and you've certainly been experiencing a lot of that."
Somehow that didn't reassure her either.
"Will it happen again?" She didn't think she could stand it again – being ripped out of the feeling of warmth and safety into terror as frightening as any of her nightmares. The thought of being paralyzed like that again – even for just a moment. Being robbed of the ability to speak or even think – and he said this had happened to him "more than a few times." How many times would it happen to her?
"I don't know. But I do know that worrying about that possibility won't do you any good. So, let's focus on the good we've got here. The chills are almost gone, right?"
They were, but that almost didn't matter. She was thinking about everything else they hadn't warned her about - and all these feelings tangled up inside her. Fear and anger and something else knotted up in them that she didn't have words for.
Maybe Overunit Wilson was right, after all. Not about the cleansings… but about emotions and frail human bodies.
"Jennifer?"
"What else haven't you told me about?"
He looked surprised – and a little hurt. "What do you mean?"
"Nightmares- and chills - and my skin peeling off – and now this – what else haven't you warned me about?"
"Jennifer – none of us are psychic. We couldn't be sure that any of those things would happen to you. And it never occurred to me that you'd end up experiencing something that traumatic when I was trying my best to just to make you feel warm and safe again."
She believed him – but- "You haven't answered my question!"
"We haven't warned you about anything else because we don't know what else to warn you about. This is uncharted territory for the rest of us too, you know."
That didn't make her feel any better. At least in the Dread Youth, they always had answers. Even if they were wrong answers.
"How is this better than what I left behind? You keep telling me about all the good emotions I'm going to feel. How much longer do I have to wait for those good feelings?"
"I'm going to stop you right there, Jennifer. Because I know you've been experiencing glimmers of those good feelings ever since we brought you here. It hasn't been all bad, has it?"
"But that's all they are. Glimmers… glimpses…" She didn't have the right words to express her frustration – which made it all that much worse. "Just now… when I was about to fall asleep… thinking it was okay… because I felt warm…and safe…" She was crying again now, and she hated herself for it. For being so weak and pathetic… what Overunit Wilson had called her in the dream.
But she had hate in her heart for others, too. For everyone and everything that left her feeling like this. Dread and her teachers for stealing her childhood - leaving her with no understanding of her emotions or vocabulary to express them. The people on the outside who had taught her fear and mistrust and hatred.
Even Jon and the others for making her endure all this pain – all these confusing and infuriating emotions.
"You are safe here," he broke into her thoughts. "Even when you feel like you're not."
"But I'm not safe for the rest of you – I could have killed Hawk earlier-"
"But you didn't-"
"But I could have! And all because I didn't understand… a basic human emotion…" She edged as far away from him as she could. "You said your greatest fear is failing me… but what if I just can't …"
"Can't what?"
"Can't learn how to be human – like you and the others."
"You can. I know you can. You just need to be patient with us – and yourself."
"You told me… it won't make me feel better to hurt someone else… but I still don't know what to do… with all this…"
"Fear and anger?"
She tried to say yes, but the word stuck in her throat. It was all she could do to nod as more hot tears spilled down her face and the rising sobs threatened to choke her.
"Let it out. However you can without hurting yourself or anyone else. Just let it out."
All that would come forth was an inarticulate wail.
She had heard men and women of all ages cry – even scream – during interrogations.
But she had never heard anyone make a sound like the one tearing out of her now. Deep and guttural.
It frightened her, but she couldn't stop the noise pouring out of her, let alone the tears.
When it finally stopped and she looked up – the others were all there too. Scout in full uniform, Hawk and Tank in T-shirts and shorts. All looking as concerned as they had the night before.
It should have comforted her. She knew that was what they wanted. But what she felt was embarrassment. And anger at everything they'd put her through so far.
And all of that had begun with Scout.
"Why couldn't you have just left me alone out there? We all would have been better off!"
"Jennifer!" Jon's sharp rebuke cut nearly as deep as the hurt expression on Scout's face.
But she couldn't take back the words or the feelings behind them.
"I was already half- dead – and I've been nothing but trouble for all of you -"
"Stop right there, Jennifer," Hawk stepped in. "Releasing those pent-up emotions is one thing. Indulging in self-pity is another. We're here to help you, not to help you feel sorry for yourself."
She found herself at a loss for words, and Hawk's stern expression softened a bit. "Although I have to admit that all this angst on your part also strikes me as proof that you're not too far off from being like any other teenager."
"Angst?"
"Sorry, that's one of the more complicated emotions. I guess the best way to sum it up for now is…that feeling of not fitting in anywhere and being afraid you never will. It's actually a nearly universal experience in adolescence, as everyone else here can attest."
"And it won't last forever," Jon added. "We can all promise you that. But there's something we want you to promise us in return."
"What?"
"Don't ever say again that Scout should have left you to die out there, or that you - or the rest of us- would be better off if he had. Because it's not true."
Fresh tears flooded her eyes at that – along with another emotion she couldn't put into words.
"Then… why am I crying now?"
"For a multitude of reasons, I think. All the fear and anger you're still trying to get out of your system… the angst Hawk just told you about…"
"And embarrassment," Scout spoke up for the first time, and all eyes turned to him. "Having all of us seeing your struggle with your emotions. I know a little something about that myself…" There was a catch in his voice, and as she blinked against her own tears, she thought she could see some at the corners of his eyes, too.
"There's sadness, too." Hawk added. "And a particular form of sadness that we call grief. That's what you feel for what you've lost – like the security you had in your old life and your old lessons – and for what you never had – a childhood full of wonder and play and laughter. All of us have known grief in one form or another. It's an inescapable part of being human."
She felt herself nod. She thought she understood that – at least a little.
"There's also that feeling of frustration you've been enduring from your first lesson with us – because it's hard to adjust to such a radically different way of thinking. Metaphorically speaking, you're still used to seeing things in black and white – which they sometimes are. Good or bad. Right or wrong. You understand what I'm saying?" Jon asked.
She nodded again.
"You're learning now that the world has a lot of shades of gray in it, too – and that's still hard for you cope with."
"What about colors?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. "I mean, I know you're not talking about what I can see with my eyes, but…" She fought for the right words – couldn't find them. She closed her eyes and smacked one fist into the mattress with a grunt of frustration.
"Hey." Jon's hand closed around her shoulder again. "It's not a stupid question. And it's the first time I've ever heard someone ask about including them in that metaphor. And when I stop to think about it – that's a profound question." The gentle squeeze of his hand was comforting… like a smaller version of a hug. "And the best answer I can give you is that this wrecked world is still full of beautiful colors for you to see. Both literal and metaphorical. All over the spectrum. And one of these nights you'll see all of that in better dreams than the ones you're having now."
"But before the two of you go off on some great philosophical tangent, you need to understand the other reason you're crying on top of all those mixed-up emotions running through you right now," Hawk spoke up.
"What's that?" she asked as she swiped at those embarrassing tears with the back of one hand. The stinging sensation against the sunburn only made her tear up even more.
"Because what Jon said to you – about saying we'd all be better off if you'd been left to die – and how that couldn't be further from the truth – those words all touched you deeply."
"Touched me?" How could you touch someone with words?
"Made you feel cared for – sort of like a hug, but with words," Hawk offered.
That… made sense somehow.
"And speaking of caring for you," Jon drew her attention back to him. "I think we can do a better job of that if you tell us about the nightmare you had tonight, okay?"
"Okay…" she breathed.
It came out haltingly… a lot like the first one had. But once again, she felt the fear falling away from her as she spoke. The cold melted away along with it.
"Makes just as much sense as the last one did," Jon told her. "Maybe even more, in a way."
The others all nodded in agreement.
"And it reminds me - there's a poem my wife loved," Hawk spoke up again. "A verse about not having to walk through the desert on your knees repenting. I'll find the whole thing for you to read for yourself tomorrow – and the Walt Whitman poem Jon told you about earlier, too."
She liked the sound of that, but… "What's a poem?"
"My God - you really don't know?"
She shook her head.
"But they must have taught you some sort of language arts?"
"Grammar… sentence structure…"
"What about similes and metaphors?" Jon picked up the thread of Hawk's questioning. "You seemed to have some grasp of metaphors earlier."
Those were familiar concepts, at least. She nodded. "So we could better understand enemy communications."
"But nothing beyond that? No literature, no stories of any kind?"
She shook her head. "Stories are just lies… distractions from our purpose."
"What did your teachers say about poetry?" Hawk asked.
"Nothing. As far as we were concerned, it just didn't exist."
"Of course, they wouldn't have wanted you to know anything about it. Because poetry, by definition, is all about emotions – either describing them or bringing them out in the reader or listener."
"And that's another good reason for making that one of your lessons tomorrow morning," Jon said. "Maybe each of us could pick one of our favorite poems to share with you."
Tank and Scout murmured agreement.
"We also need to introduce you to stories," Jon told her.
"But aren't those just lies? You said you would never lie to me."
"The best stories aren't lies – even when they don't have a single fact in them." Tank spoke up.
"That makes no sense. How can something without a single fact be anything but a lie?"
"I know you don't understand the difference yet – but fact and truth aren't exact synonyms. A fact is something literal - like two plus two equals four. Truth is something deeper, sometimes harder to grasp, especially when you've only been taught one way of thinking – the logical way," Jon said.
There it was again - that frustrating feeling of almost-but-not-quite understanding what they were trying to teach her.
"There's something else I think you need to hear right now. I can't remember the exact quote – I'll find it for you in the morning – but it's along the lines of – feeling pain means you're still alive, making mistakes means you're still human, and there's always hope as long as you keep trying. We're going to find that quote and put it someplace for you to look at every day – so you can remember it every time you're in pain or frightened or you think you just can't learn how to become fully human." Hawk told her.
"And that's just the start," Jon followed up. "You can't begin to imagine how much goodness and beauty and wonder you're going to find in the stories and poems and all the other forms of literature that we're going to introduce you to – or the difference it's going to make in your dreams – both sleeping and waking."
"Waking? How can you dream when you're wide awake?"
Jon got an odd look on his face before he chuckled softly, followed by the others. For a fleeting moment, she felt a flash of red-hot anger – but in the next moment she realized that they weren't making fun of her. This soft laughter was something… different….
"I think we're all looking forward to introducing you to daydreaming. But that will have to keep until the morning. For now…" he gently settled her back against the pillow. "Remember how I told you last night to keep reminding yourself that you had already come through the fire and come out the other side?"
"Yes."
"Next time, you can tell the Overunit that you never have to suffer alone. And keep telling yourself that too, okay? Because we're all right here to help you through all the pain and fear you're struggling with – for as long as you need." There was that comforting squeeze to her shoulders again.
It made her feel better, and yet… "But when will it stop – these nightmares?"
"Honestly, there's no way for us to know. But they will stop one night. I can promise you that."
Something else was troubling her. "Why do I only have the nightmares in the middle of the night?" She plunged ahead without waiting for an answer. "I'm still sleeping so much during the day – but I never have dreams like that then – why not?"
"That's a good question. I wish we had a good answer for it."
"Some say it's because deep down, we're all still afraid of the dark." Hawk spoke up. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I think there's some truth in that. But there's no cut-and-dried answer to your question - no easy answers or easy fix to any of this."
Another frightening thought struck her. "How do I know that you're not behind all these nightmares? That it's not just a different form of…" For a moment she couldn't remember the word Jon had taught her the day before. "…gaslighting?"
"Even if we could – we would never do something like that to you. Not even to our worst enemies," Jon assured her.
The others all murmured agreement.
"Do you trust our word on that – on everything we've told you so far?"
She hadn't caught them in a lie yet. "Yes."
"Good. Any other questions that are going to keep you awake all night unless you get some kind of answer from us right now?
She had dozens of those…but they were all in a jumble in her mind…and she couldn't pick one out…
And then an overwhelming sense of fatigue came over her, and all she could do was yawn.
That was greeted with a ripple of soft chuckles from the others… an oddly comforting sound… as Jon tucked the covers around her shoulders.
"All right, then. This time we're all going to stay until you fall asleep again. And then one of us will be right here all through the night, just like before, okay?"
She felt herself nod as she relaxed against the softness of sheets and pillow.
"Remember, you're safe here – and you never have to suffer alone. We're all here for you. We're all with you. Always."