Kaylee and Taylor's first day together at his apartment had gone pretty well, all things considered. After their chat in the garden, they'd done some shopping at the market and returned to put a little meal together, followed by a quiet evening spent going through some of Taylor's music collection. It was late by the time they'd decided to turn in, both of them yawning, but fighting sleep, maybe dreading it, even. Sleep was the one time when neither had any control over what thoughts and memories entered their minds to torment their nights. Taylor bid Kaylee good night before turning in himself, insisting on sleeping on the couch, if he slept at all. He no longer needed the lights on while he slept, but kept a single light shining in the kitchen to cast a warm glow over the apartment anyway, more for Kaylee's benefit that his own. He had a feeling it was going to be a restless night for both of them, but when his head finally hit the pillow, he found he could fight the weariness no longer.
Kaylee fought sleep for a long time, lying curled tightly beneath the covers in the brightly lit bedroom. Outside, the night was lit by the moon, but still too dark, too close to the darkness that had haunted her for too long. Even in here, she knew there was darkness beneath the bed on which she lay, a shadow that no one thought to illuminate. Out of sight should have been out of mind, but not for her. She refused to take the sedatives she had been given at the hospital, hating the way they held her down in sleep when she should have been able to wake herself up. But, like Taylor, she couldn't fight the weariness of the busy day for long, and soon drifted off into what should have been peaceful oblivion. But peace wasn't something she could find, even in sleep.
As the hours ticked on into the smallness of the night, the nightmares came. Darkness all around her, the familiar smell of dank and cold, decaying wood all around her, the metallic tang of blood on the air; the scuffle of small feet, coming closer; hissing voices in her ears. Embrace the darkness. Embrace the darkness or die. In a panic, she ran through the halls of her dreams, heedless of her direction, wanting only to get away, and all the while the screams of the dying echoed in her ears. Until finally there were no more screams, only the cadence of her breath and the hissing voices that pursued her. Embrace the darkness. "No!"
With a scream that seemed to bruise her throat, she threw back the covers and leaped from the bed, fully awake and truly terrified once again, scurrying into the brightly lit closet and slamming the door behind her, sinking down into a shaking crouch, her back firmly against the wall. "Go away," she whispered, clutching handfuls of her own hair, pulling to remind herself that she was awake, she was alive. "Leave me alone."
Taylor's dreams weren't much more peaceful than hers, but he'd had seven years to learn to cope with the nightmares and the terror. There was no choice in the matter really. It was either learn to deal with it or be destroyed by it, and he refused to let that happen. He couldn't let that happen because if he did, who would stop this horror from happening to someone else? It was her scream that woke him from his own restless sleep, a scream that brought back memories of other screams seven years before - the screams of the others who'd died, who'd been tortured and murdered while he'd been allowed to live. He jerked awake as her scream startled him out of his sleep, throwing the blanket off, and stumbling to his feet, momentarily confused before remembering he had a house guest.
He glanced around the apartment briefly, seeing no threat of danger. It was only a dream, but it wasn't his dream. He wasted no time in finding her, knocking on the bedroom door and calling her name. When he heard nothing but a muffled reply, he slowly pushed the door open, blinking at the brighter light. "Kaylee?" he called again, eyes scanning the room, heart pounding in near panic when he didn't see her. "Kaylee!" he called again, more urgently this time.
A moment of quiet was all it took to locate her, to hear the panicked in and out of her shaking breath as she sat huddled in the closet. The door was a little way open, evidence of her flight in that direction, the shadow she cast visible through the crack in the door. She had her eyes closed, rocking back and forth, muttering those three hated words over and over again despite every wish to banish them from her mind. "Embrace the darkness ....embrace the darkness ..."
Once he figured out where she was, he crossed the room to the closet and pulled it slowly open to find her huddled in the corner and chanting those hated words to herself - words he knew only too well. He clenched his jaw in anger a moment, not at her but at her captors, before forcing the anger aside and crouching down in front of her to take hold of her shoulders and turn her to face him. "Kaylee!" he called again, hoping his voice would reach her in her terror. "Kaylee, it's me, Taylor. Come out of the darkness."
She snapped out of the darkness in her mind faster than she should have been able to, but without any control. There was a snarl on her face as she raised her hands to push at him, not realizing who it was, or where she was, launching herself from where she was pressed against the wall with a fist raised in preparation to punch as hard as she possibly could.
He flinched, startled by the unexpected violence of her reaction to his intrusion, and mostly out of a sense of self-preservation, he caught her wrists, partly to stop her from hurting him and partly to stop her from hurting herself. "Kaylee!" he called again, sternly this time, more demanding. He didn't want to hurt her, but somehow he needed to get through.
Caught, she could do nothing but lunge at him until her shoulders protested, the pain making her snarl deeper. But she heard his voice, her own name, and that snatched at her consciousness. The nightmares didn't know her name; they didn't call to her out of the light. And it was light here. Her eyes blinked open, the anger and fear receding from her gaze until all that was left was the despair. She shrank back against the wall of the closet, close to tears she refused to let fall. "Taylor ....I'm sorry," she whispered shakily. "I'm so sorry!"
At last, he caught her in his arms, pinning her arms to her sides, even as she kept trying unsuccessfully to lunge at him, all the while calling her name and trying to pull her back from the dark place where she found herself lost. It wasn't easy holding her there while she fought against him, but she seemed to finally relax against him and remember where she was. It was only then that he let go of her, watching as she shrank back against the wall, close to tears. There was no anger on his face, no pity, only deep concern, compassion, and sympathy. He slowly extended a hand to touch her face, to let her feel his touch and know that she wasn't alone and that she'd only been dreaming. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he told her gently.
Kaylee fought sleep for a long time, lying curled tightly beneath the covers in the brightly lit bedroom. Outside, the night was lit by the moon, but still too dark, too close to the darkness that had haunted her for too long. Even in here, she knew there was darkness beneath the bed on which she lay, a shadow that no one thought to illuminate. Out of sight should have been out of mind, but not for her. She refused to take the sedatives she had been given at the hospital, hating the way they held her down in sleep when she should have been able to wake herself up. But, like Taylor, she couldn't fight the weariness of the busy day for long, and soon drifted off into what should have been peaceful oblivion. But peace wasn't something she could find, even in sleep.
As the hours ticked on into the smallness of the night, the nightmares came. Darkness all around her, the familiar smell of dank and cold, decaying wood all around her, the metallic tang of blood on the air; the scuffle of small feet, coming closer; hissing voices in her ears. Embrace the darkness. Embrace the darkness or die. In a panic, she ran through the halls of her dreams, heedless of her direction, wanting only to get away, and all the while the screams of the dying echoed in her ears. Until finally there were no more screams, only the cadence of her breath and the hissing voices that pursued her. Embrace the darkness. "No!"
With a scream that seemed to bruise her throat, she threw back the covers and leaped from the bed, fully awake and truly terrified once again, scurrying into the brightly lit closet and slamming the door behind her, sinking down into a shaking crouch, her back firmly against the wall. "Go away," she whispered, clutching handfuls of her own hair, pulling to remind herself that she was awake, she was alive. "Leave me alone."
Taylor's dreams weren't much more peaceful than hers, but he'd had seven years to learn to cope with the nightmares and the terror. There was no choice in the matter really. It was either learn to deal with it or be destroyed by it, and he refused to let that happen. He couldn't let that happen because if he did, who would stop this horror from happening to someone else? It was her scream that woke him from his own restless sleep, a scream that brought back memories of other screams seven years before - the screams of the others who'd died, who'd been tortured and murdered while he'd been allowed to live. He jerked awake as her scream startled him out of his sleep, throwing the blanket off, and stumbling to his feet, momentarily confused before remembering he had a house guest.
He glanced around the apartment briefly, seeing no threat of danger. It was only a dream, but it wasn't his dream. He wasted no time in finding her, knocking on the bedroom door and calling her name. When he heard nothing but a muffled reply, he slowly pushed the door open, blinking at the brighter light. "Kaylee?" he called again, eyes scanning the room, heart pounding in near panic when he didn't see her. "Kaylee!" he called again, more urgently this time.
A moment of quiet was all it took to locate her, to hear the panicked in and out of her shaking breath as she sat huddled in the closet. The door was a little way open, evidence of her flight in that direction, the shadow she cast visible through the crack in the door. She had her eyes closed, rocking back and forth, muttering those three hated words over and over again despite every wish to banish them from her mind. "Embrace the darkness ....embrace the darkness ..."
Once he figured out where she was, he crossed the room to the closet and pulled it slowly open to find her huddled in the corner and chanting those hated words to herself - words he knew only too well. He clenched his jaw in anger a moment, not at her but at her captors, before forcing the anger aside and crouching down in front of her to take hold of her shoulders and turn her to face him. "Kaylee!" he called again, hoping his voice would reach her in her terror. "Kaylee, it's me, Taylor. Come out of the darkness."
She snapped out of the darkness in her mind faster than she should have been able to, but without any control. There was a snarl on her face as she raised her hands to push at him, not realizing who it was, or where she was, launching herself from where she was pressed against the wall with a fist raised in preparation to punch as hard as she possibly could.
He flinched, startled by the unexpected violence of her reaction to his intrusion, and mostly out of a sense of self-preservation, he caught her wrists, partly to stop her from hurting him and partly to stop her from hurting herself. "Kaylee!" he called again, sternly this time, more demanding. He didn't want to hurt her, but somehow he needed to get through.
Caught, she could do nothing but lunge at him until her shoulders protested, the pain making her snarl deeper. But she heard his voice, her own name, and that snatched at her consciousness. The nightmares didn't know her name; they didn't call to her out of the light. And it was light here. Her eyes blinked open, the anger and fear receding from her gaze until all that was left was the despair. She shrank back against the wall of the closet, close to tears she refused to let fall. "Taylor ....I'm sorry," she whispered shakily. "I'm so sorry!"
At last, he caught her in his arms, pinning her arms to her sides, even as she kept trying unsuccessfully to lunge at him, all the while calling her name and trying to pull her back from the dark place where she found herself lost. It wasn't easy holding her there while she fought against him, but she seemed to finally relax against him and remember where she was. It was only then that he let go of her, watching as she shrank back against the wall, close to tears. There was no anger on his face, no pity, only deep concern, compassion, and sympathy. He slowly extended a hand to touch her face, to let her feel his touch and know that she wasn't alone and that she'd only been dreaming. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he told her gently.