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hearrrtofgoldIn dreams
[I Dream of Jeannie]
[Possible item: cell phone]
You sit on a step to the lighthouse, elbows braced on your knees -- not for comfort, but because you doubt you could keep yourself upright otherwise. You look down at your hands, the thin wrinkled liver-spotted skin over your tendons. Your spine aches, your hearing and eyesight are dimming, and even your consciousness is beginning to fade.
"Come on man, stay with me," the man behind you says, and you blink to focus.
"Do you really hate me?" As you ask your voice is breathy and cracked, like wind through split reeds.
"Hate's a strong word," he answers, but you barely hear him as you groan and resituate. Your body is breaking and fading, weakening, decaying, a thousand tiny pains running through you as it begins to shut down.
"I'm dying," you croak, staring straight ahead. "I can feel it. Generally I liked being alone." Your tone's bitter. "But I didn't want to die that way."
"You're not gonna die today," he replies. "When you die it's gonna be 'cause I killed you myself."
You don't believe him but you smile, just for a second. It's all you can manage.
A woman's scream of pain rings out from the lighthouse, and everything goes gray.
The dream switches; you hear a baby crying, and then it's replaced by a woman's voice. She's looking at you, eyes solemn.
"A daughter. Her name is Jean." She places a cell phone in your hand, a picture displayed on the screen.
"But you can never see her," the woman says. You're still staring at the picture, but you can hear the regret in her voice. "'Cause she's what made you so sick."
Something in you breaks, and it's not your body.
[Kill the Killer (Season 3 spoilers)]
[Possible item: unloaded handgun]
"You're a bad liar."
You whirl around to face the man, the gun he gave you cocked and at the ready, eyes on his. "You're the Bolt Gun Killer. Nathan figured it out. That's why you killed him."
"'Bolt Gun Killer,'" the man repeats thoughtfully, then grimaces. "I don't like that. It's too on the nose."
"Why are you killing women?"
"It is my turn," he says calmly. "You and Audrey. Did you find the Cogans?"
"Dad was dead," you say. "Mom's got Alzheimer's, doesn't know anything about the Colorado Kid." For a second you see panic flash through his eyes, and it strengthens your anger. Your voice is icy as you ask "Why're you so interested in a drifter that died almost thirty years ago?"
"Shut your mouth!" he snaps, and your aim stays steady as he begins to advance on you. "Put the damn gun down. It's not loaded."
You look at him and shrug. "I know."
Spinning the gun in your hand, you aim a blow to his head but he catches your arm, twisting it until you think your elbow might wrench from its socket. The pain makes you drop the empty handgun, and you reach for the loaded gun in his holster.
He twists harder, shoves, throws you to the floor. You land hard on your back but come up with your fists raised. Your first punch connects and he rolls with it. For a second you two stare each other down, fists raised like prizefighters, and he jabs for your eye. You duck the second blow and slam your elbow into his face, following it with your fist. He staggers back and you glance down.
The blood on your knuckles seeps into your skin, absorbed like water in a sponge. Power rushes through you like water from a burst dam, and you stare. "You're Troubled?"
He tries to run but you grab him, throw him across the room. He crashes onto the floor, tumbling against the wall. You advance, and he scrambles to his feet.
You have the strength, but he has the loaded gun pointed right at you.
[Video]
[Yes, Duke looks as tired as anyone. He's leaning on the bar in the pub, a large mug of coffee in hand and the pot percolating behind him. He's trying to keep up his spirits, despite the haunting dreams that afford no rest.]
This is getting ridiculous. For those of us who choose insomnia, I'll be here making coffee for the rest of my life.
[I Dream of Jeannie]
[Possible item: cell phone]
You sit on a step to the lighthouse, elbows braced on your knees -- not for comfort, but because you doubt you could keep yourself upright otherwise. You look down at your hands, the thin wrinkled liver-spotted skin over your tendons. Your spine aches, your hearing and eyesight are dimming, and even your consciousness is beginning to fade.
"Come on man, stay with me," the man behind you says, and you blink to focus.
"Do you really hate me?" As you ask your voice is breathy and cracked, like wind through split reeds.
"Hate's a strong word," he answers, but you barely hear him as you groan and resituate. Your body is breaking and fading, weakening, decaying, a thousand tiny pains running through you as it begins to shut down.
"I'm dying," you croak, staring straight ahead. "I can feel it. Generally I liked being alone." Your tone's bitter. "But I didn't want to die that way."
"You're not gonna die today," he replies. "When you die it's gonna be 'cause I killed you myself."
You don't believe him but you smile, just for a second. It's all you can manage.
A woman's scream of pain rings out from the lighthouse, and everything goes gray.
The dream switches; you hear a baby crying, and then it's replaced by a woman's voice. She's looking at you, eyes solemn.
"A daughter. Her name is Jean." She places a cell phone in your hand, a picture displayed on the screen.
"But you can never see her," the woman says. You're still staring at the picture, but you can hear the regret in her voice. "'Cause she's what made you so sick."
Something in you breaks, and it's not your body.
[Kill the Killer (Season 3 spoilers)]
[Possible item: unloaded handgun]
"You're a bad liar."
You whirl around to face the man, the gun he gave you cocked and at the ready, eyes on his. "You're the Bolt Gun Killer. Nathan figured it out. That's why you killed him."
"'Bolt Gun Killer,'" the man repeats thoughtfully, then grimaces. "I don't like that. It's too on the nose."
"Why are you killing women?"
"It is my turn," he says calmly. "You and Audrey. Did you find the Cogans?"
"Dad was dead," you say. "Mom's got Alzheimer's, doesn't know anything about the Colorado Kid." For a second you see panic flash through his eyes, and it strengthens your anger. Your voice is icy as you ask "Why're you so interested in a drifter that died almost thirty years ago?"
"Shut your mouth!" he snaps, and your aim stays steady as he begins to advance on you. "Put the damn gun down. It's not loaded."
You look at him and shrug. "I know."
Spinning the gun in your hand, you aim a blow to his head but he catches your arm, twisting it until you think your elbow might wrench from its socket. The pain makes you drop the empty handgun, and you reach for the loaded gun in his holster.
He twists harder, shoves, throws you to the floor. You land hard on your back but come up with your fists raised. Your first punch connects and he rolls with it. For a second you two stare each other down, fists raised like prizefighters, and he jabs for your eye. You duck the second blow and slam your elbow into his face, following it with your fist. He staggers back and you glance down.
The blood on your knuckles seeps into your skin, absorbed like water in a sponge. Power rushes through you like water from a burst dam, and you stare. "You're Troubled?"
He tries to run but you grab him, throw him across the room. He crashes onto the floor, tumbling against the wall. You advance, and he scrambles to his feet.
You have the strength, but he has the loaded gun pointed right at you.
[Video]
[Yes, Duke looks as tired as anyone. He's leaning on the bar in the pub, a large mug of coffee in hand and the pot percolating behind him. He's trying to keep up his spirits, despite the haunting dreams that afford no rest.]
This is getting ridiculous. For those of us who choose insomnia, I'll be here making coffee for the rest of my life.
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-01-30 08:39 pm (UTC)She knocks on his door, the cell phone she woke up with in her hand as she waits for it to open. She has access to his cabin, but even with the message she saw him post on the network, she doesn't want to intrude if he's able to drift off for a few dreamless moments in spite of everything.
When the door finally does open, Allison is pale and haggard looking, with dark circles under her eyes. The phone is clutched in her hand, by her side, and as usual she's got Duchess with her, tucked into the purse she bought in Amsterdam solely for bunny transport.]
Hey, you.
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-01-31 07:05 am (UTC)He, likewise, looks tired, his bleary eyes widening in surprise.]
What're you -- I gave you a key, didn't I?
[He thought he did, and as he opens the door for her he realizes he may be more tired than he thought.]
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-01 08:46 pm (UTC)[With a wan smile, she accepts the invitation inside, stopping just long enough to crouch and kiss the top of Brownie's head in greeting before she moved further into his cabin.
There, she turned to face him, toying discreetly with the cell phone and looking unsure of herself. The way she'd felt him tear in two, like part of her was dying inside...
She wasn't totally sure this would do more harm than good.]
I, uh...I had a nightmare. [She hesitates, regarding him uncertainly.] Duke, do...do you have a daughter?
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-02 07:07 am (UTC)[He runs a hand over his face as he shuts the door behind her, awkwardly avoiding Brownie, who is now trying to nose Duchess out of the purse and carry her off for a bath. He's tired, and he's moving slower than he usually would. In a few more hours he'll have to sleep.
He begins to shuffle to the kitchen, meaning to offer her coffee. He's been drinking it nonstop since the flood started, trying to stave off those moments of others' horror.
Maybe he should've expected it to reach beyond sleep. Duke turns to her, slowly, and stares. For a long time he stays silent.]
Yeah, I guess I do.
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-03 05:59 pm (UTC)...and finally hands him the phone.]
Then I hope this isn't...a painful reminder. I just thought you should have it...based on what I felt in that dream, this felt like the right thing to do.
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-04 07:28 am (UTC)Without opening them, he holds his arms out in invitation for a hug.]
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-04 05:41 pm (UTC)I'm so sorry you went through that. [Her voice is barely a whisper, heavy with the horror of it. It's one of her own greatest fears, and the indignity of having everything she is stripped away by that kind of sudden and fatal aging...to be infirm, helpless, years and years before her time...
And he'd gone through that. He'd survived it, only to have a daughter he would never know lest he endure it a second time.]
You deserve so much better...I'm so sorry, Duke...
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-11 10:44 am (UTC)Shh. It's not your fault. [Or his, he knows, or Beatty's, or Jean's.] It's not anyone's fault. It's okay. [It's as close to okay as it can be, at least.]
She's safe. I'm safe. Her mom's safe. It's all right, okay?
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-19 04:52 pm (UTC)Not Duke...and all she had to even try and help put it back together was a cell phone with a photograph.
She knows it's not okay, and it feels like it's her fault. So she doesn't answer...she just hugs him tighter, presses her face against his neck, and pretends that it's his sweat, not her tears, that are making his skin damp.]
NIGHTMARE AFTERMATH SPAM
Date: 2015-02-20 06:06 am (UTC)Jean hurt like losing Evi had hurt, a little piece of ideal, lovely normality stripped away by the Troubles. When Audrey had told him and showed him the picture he didn't show the sudden split in his heart. What had he said? "You can't miss something you never really had"?
But you could. He bit his lip and squeezed her in a bear hug, then let her go with a sigh.]
Thank you.
She lives with her adopted family in Nebraska now. Far away from the Troubles. That's the good part.