twiststheblade | Room 111

Room 111

It stopped working. The nightmares came wherever she slept, whoever she shared her bed with. It was so hard to stay silent. To swallow the scream, to creep silently from the bed and curl, dry-eyed, in the corner of a bathroom. To still her breathing, swallow back the nausea rising in her throat. Watch her hands slowly stop shaking, until the violent tremors had subsided to a bare quiver. Then to crawl back into the bed.

So she stopped trying.

She won't share a bed any more. No, that's not true. She'll still sleep next to Goldy. Or rather, curl up next to her, eyes open in the dark, one hand resting on the comfort of the other woman. Sometimes her fingers curled gently into golden locks. Sometimes her lips resting softly on her skin, so that all she can see is her. Not the shadows that creep at the edges of her vision. Not the dark things that want her to see them. Acknowledge them. Not the pressure there at the back of her mind, demanding she look at it, screaming at her to remember.

She won't make Goldy deal with her, be with her when she wakes, screaming, fighting something that isn't there. When she starts out of the bed, not knowing where she is, seeing not her room in Milliways, but white paper walls and dark wood. When she can't breathe can't think can't breathe can't move.

She'll sneak into her room, slide into the bed, wrap herself around the sleeping form, and just. . . be there.

She won't sleep. Won't sleep. Won't. . . .

Sleep.

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Despite her semi-consciousness, things don't seem quite right to Goldy. Her bedmate is having a nightmare, that much is obvious. She reluctantly drags her eyes open and shakes the other girl's shoulder.

It's a gentle gesture, followed by a smoothing comforting stroke down the arm. She snarls her nose at the clamminess. And at the unnatural bodily stiffness.

"Sweetness. Wake up," she mumbles. "You're having a bad dream."

She shakes again, a little harder this time.

"C'mon."

The shake is responded to with a full body jerk, as Miho's eyes fly open. She screams, and lashes out at whatever is touching her, still more asleep than awake, and still caught in whatever nightmare she's been reliving every time her eyes close for the last too many weeks.

She scrambles bolt upright in the bed, eyes wide, covers clutched to her.

Goldy's reflexes are lagging behind her consciousness. In fact, they are still being utilized in some fantastic dreamland dragon hunt. She yelps as the swiping fist connects with her cheek bone.

This is Miho. It's not a delicate blow.

Her head jolts back and she claps a hand to her face, eyes watering and wide with shock. She's awake now. And hurt. She grapples herself into a sitting position, looking suitably distressed.

Miho looks through her for a long moment, before her eyes slowly focus. She stares at Goldy for a moment, as if not sure where she is, before her eyes widen. The jolt as she snaps back into reality is almost audible.

Her face is white, lips pale and washed out, eyes huge and black. Her hands are still tangled in the covers, knuckles bone-white. Her eyes well up, before tears spill over to run down her cheeks. Silent, though, no noise.

She remembers. Can't hide from it any more.

She can turn her face away, though. Because. . . Because it's all over now. Or it will be. She's damaged goods. But. . . she can't look away, not really. Her eyes slide back, and when she does whisper, it's beyond pleading.

"Goldy. . ."

Goldy's breathing is fast and she looks shaken. She's still dealing with being struck, with being wrenched awake so immediately, and with the state of her lover. It's a little overwhelming.

A trembling hand still covers the throbbing part of her face, the other is hugged defensively around her pink-shirted midriff. Near-frantic eyes stare at her lover, wanting to respond to the plea, desperately seeking an explanation.

"Y-yes...?"

"I."

She swallows.

She just can't move.

"I'm so sorry."

She has no idea what she's apologising for. Anything. Everything.

"It's... alright."

Goldy isn't sure what the apology is for either. Her initial reassurance is uncertain, to say the least. Her second has a little more conviction.

"Everything's going to be alright."

The heaving of her chest becomes a little more controlled, and she reaches out a tentative hand. She has no idea where to put it, no idea whether it will be cast off or provoke another attack. So it just hangs directionless—almost helplessly—in mid-air.

She made the first move. She reached out and it doesn't matter doesn't matter doesn't matter that she doesn't know.

Miho all but falls foward, and her arms go around Goldy, and her face pushes into her shoulder. She's holding on as if her life depended on it. It almost does.

"I'm so sorry." Again, whispered into that mass of hair.

Labored breathing fades into a heavy sigh. There's definitely some relief apparent in it, though comprehension is still lacking. She drops her other hand from her cheek, and welcomes Miho in, hugging her back fiercely.

"Oh babe. I know it was an accident. It's okay."

She's still crying silently, tears flowing sideways across her tilted face to soak Goldy's pink-cotton-covered shoulder. But the tears are more of relief now than anything else.

"I think," quietly, "my door is back."

Now she thinks she knows why she's been kept in Milliways. And why she has to go back.

"It's about time."

Goldy strokes a comforting hand over long tangles of black. There's nothing crazy about that; Goldy sensed her own door long before she confirmed that it was there. She knows what this means, at least partially.

"Good."

She nods, arms still clinging tight.

"You're still coming with me?" Fully expecting her to say no.

She won't want her after they come back, that's for certain.

Goldy's eyebrows frown together.

"Of course! Wild horses couldn't stop me," she confirms. "Why ever wouldn't I?"

She shrugs a little, and if it were possible for her arms to clutch tighter, they would.

"Okay. Just. . . can I stay here please?"

"Of course. You know you don't need to ask."

The frown doesn't fade any. This child-like need is new, and a little perturbing.

"That must have been one hell of a nightmare."

"I."

She presses her face further into Goldy's shoulder.

"You. I hope you have no idea." She's stilted, almost stuttering. Just please, is all she can think, don't make her tell. She can't.

The blonde smoothes her hand down Miho's back.

"I think I could get into the right ballpark." And then, after a moment's consideration, "but if you don't want to talk about it... that's okay."

"I just... don't like to see you like this. Obviously."

She leans back and partially detaches Miho from her, seeking an important eye contact.

MIho's looking away though, eyes down, eyes to the side, anything.

"I don't want to talk about it," quitely. "I can't."

"Look at me."

She's serious, but not in an unkind tone.

She bites her lip.

And does as she's told.

"Then we won't talk about it."

She querks a fond half-smile.

And then winces as the expression twinges her newly swelling cheek.

Miho manages a tiny smile, that is quickly quelled when she notes the pined wince.

"Oh, sweetie. Let me get ice."

"No no. I'll get it. You stay right there."

She's already slipping out of bed.

"Glass of water? Or bourbon?"

Miho gives her a long look.

"Water. Please."

Goldy gives a nod and pads into the bathroom.

While she isn't psychic, she tends not to miss things that she can actually see. At the very least, she knows bourbon is Miho's comfort drink. And she's seen it used for other reasons in the past as well.

"You want to tell Alanna, or shall I?" she asks, returning with a wash cloth and stopping by the mini-fridge.

Miho is still curled up in the covers, sheets wrapped around skinny bare legs.

"I don't mind," quietly.

"Whichever one of us sees her first, I suppose."

She holds a hand out for the water glass. Bourbon, right now, is the last thing she wants. She needs a straight head, and she feels clearer than she has in weeks.

"Okay," she says with a shrug.

One handful of ice is wrapped into the cloth, and another is dropped into a tumbler. She fills the latter with half a bottle of Evian.

"I will order the equipment from Hank."

She glances back. "You don't mind waiting a few days do you? It may take him some time to get it all together."

Miho bites her lip at the ice.

"I wasn't hitting you," very quietly.

She shakes her head.

"No, it's fine. I need to get some rest, sort myself out."

Goldy returns to the bedside.

"I know."

She hands over the glass before perching herself on the edge of the mattress and applying the ice to her cheek.

"Actually. Um. I have plans with Ace this coming weekend." She looks guilt-ridden all of a sudden, and her voice drops accordingly. "We're going on vacation to a beach on some... other planet she knows."

She doesn't feel like she needs permission. Not by any means. But she doesn't want to be holidaying when she should be on a mission.

"We'll only be gone five minutes in bar time," she adds.

Miho nods, taking a sip of the water.

"You'll be all fit when you get back, then," she says, smiling a little.

She scoots across the bed to drop her head onto Goldy's shoulder, wrapping an arm about her waist. Cuddles now. There may not be any later.

"Have fun."

"I'm not sure it's going to be what I would usually class as fun," she concedes. "But seeing a new world will be interesting, and soaking up the sun for a few days should be relaxing."

She tilts her head over to rest on Miho's.

"You never quite know with Ace though. Which is sort of the attraction in the trip. The unknown element."

Miho chuckles a little, pushing everything except here and now to the back of her mind. She tilts her head to rest her lips on Goldy's neck.

"Just make sure to avoid quick-sand," said quietly with a faintly amused tone.

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Room 111

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