She had fallen asleep after a long, full day with Skid and his hot demon client. She'd drunk some, laughed a lot, and managed to please both her boss and the client with her ideas for his party.

Snuggled up in her new bed in her new home, Abby drifted off to sleep easily. Probably for the first time in her life, ever.

She awoke hours, or what seemed like hours, later to a sound.

It was a squeaking, rickety sound. It sounded like the broken wheeled, battered meds cart for the morning shift at the Hospital for the Criminaly Insane. She heard another, sharper squeaking, and a rustling.

Bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide in a panic. Her room, her old room at the hospital surrounded her. The scent of disenfectant and the musky/sour smell of stale urine from patients long dead. The squeak was from the rubber soled shoes of the morning shift nurse, the rustle the starched, scratchy uniform as she moved. Abby was home.

Screaming, she couldn't move, suddenly. Paralyzed with fear, choking on the vomit of terror, and wetting herself, she then found her feet. Thrashing, throwing herself at the door, pounding with fists until they bruised, the knuckle-bones cracking. Abby was trapped, again, in Hell.

Through the meshed-glass of her observation window in her door she saw the nurse pushing her cart, 'squeak-rattle-squeak', ever closer to her room, bearing the brightly colored pills that brought oblivion, made the nightmares worse, and never quite managed to hold the hallucinations or the voices at bay.

The nurse, head bent over her clipboard, rickety cart ever rattling closer, finally reached Abby's door. She had been reduced to shaking sobs, silent as she gasped for breath. The door opened, a glimpse of red hair beneath the cornered, starched nurses cap. Slender hands unlocking Abby's cell, then forcing her back into the room with the cart. The nurse looked up, holding up bloody, dripping wrists to Abby.

Choking on her fear, eyes wide, vision blurred by tears, she saw who the nurse was. It was Jamie, her dead roomate, bleeding from the glass shards that still punctured her body. A grim, sadistic smile plastered on the waxy, pale face of her dead friend. Blue lips curled back into a sneer of vengeance, her waxy complexion cracking at the corners of her lips. Eyes, once a blue like a stormy sky, now filmed over in that blue-sheen of death. Her hair fell out in clumps as she took Abby by the arm, a vice grip she was unable to free herself from.

"Hush, hush little baby. Don't say a word. Momma's gonna kill your little mocking bird. Jamie's gonna make it aaaaaaaaaaallllllll better."

Whimpering, scrabbling back on two legs and one arm, the other still caught by the monster that had been her only friend, Abby tried to find her voice.

"Jamie, no. Don't. Don't kill me, Jamie. Please, I am sorry. I didn't mean for you to die. I didn't want my freedom to kill you. I would have taken you with me!!"

A razor-sharp claw became Jamie's free hand, slashing at Abby's nightclothes, shredding the faded white and blue spotted scrubs all patients were given to wear. Abby cried out, the small bones in her wrist being ground together as she struggled to get free. Was this a dream, or had she never been free? Was Rhy'din just a hallucination?

She found Abby in her nightmare, and latched on to her, knowing she needed this one.

Running with her, taking her deeper into the woman's own subconscience, she hoped she'd be able to save her from herself in order to communicate with her.

"This way. I've got you. Come with me."

Abby ran with her, fear gripping the girl, but Mara was just as scared. She was formless, bodiless, but still as alive as Abby. Dalia and Khoss's little spell had made sure of that, even if they didn't know it.

Mara's body had been killed along with Dalia and Zillah, but her soul still floated here. She had been watching Abby for months, and quite liked her. Reminded her of herself from long ago, or perhaps she just noticed a kindred spirit in her.

No matter, Abby was a psi, whether she knew it or not, and that was all that mattered.

"We'll be safe in here. This is the craft room, remember? You were always safe here." Mara spun Abby to face her, looking into those odd, mirror-like eyes. Wierd, the girl wasn't all human, huh? No matter. "You were always safe here."

Gripping her by the arms, a little shake to get her words across and into her head. Mara hoped like hell this would work, otherwise who knew what would happen. Would she be trapped in Abby's mind forever? If Abby died in her own night terror, would her body die and therefore take Mara with her?

Mara stood to the side, watching Abby with her usual quirked smile. She had guts, this one. She was totally off her rocker, of course, but she had spunk and Mara liked her more and more.

Mara wandered around the craft room, looking at all the art work; lop sided vases done in clay, rather good water color and charcoal drawings matted and framed on one wall, and the other jumbled objects made from pipe cleaners, pom-poms and other assorted crafty things.

Abby's demeanor, observed from the corner of Mara's gaze, was softening. She had relaxed, seemed to have taken control.

Turning on a boot heel, Mara approached her now, hand extended. "My name is Mara Payne, Abby, and it's nice to meet you. As for what to do next? I suggest we find a first aid kit in here and get you patched up. Then we have a chat. After that? It will be up to you. This is your dream, after all."

Mara saw the meltdown coming, and was at Abby's side in an instant. Hushing her whimpers with a smile and a hug, she slid the first aid kit onto her lap.

"Hold still, these need to be cleaned. Why don't you lay back and let me see those on your belly and chest." Gentle, soothing vibes where sent to Abby, making use of her psi talents and training that long, lost love had given her. Thoughts of Raven pierced her heart, and she nearly sobbed at the memories.

Gulping them down, swallowing that jagged, bitter pill, she smiled again and forced herself to forget.

Abby needed her, she could see that, and that would have to be enough. She cut away the shredded remains of Abby's pajama top and set to bandaging her new comrade.

Mara poured hydrogen peroxide onto a clean 4x4, and gently washed the wounds. She rinsed the bubbling liquid away with another clean gauze and distilled water from the rather extensive first aid bag.

"This will sting, but it must be done." She cooed. Once cleaned, Mara wound gauze about her middle and chest, holding the sterile bandages in place. The wounds were ragged, but shallow. She hoped stitches wouldn't be required, but Abby would have to tend to that on her own, when she woke.

Mara took this time to distract Abby with what she needed to discuss with her. "Abby, we need to talk about something. You know this is a dream, and you know that these wounds will be real when you wake up. This is a dream, and yet, it is not. Those things out there, they are real, and they are not. As am I."

Sighing deeply, she decided how best to go about explaining her situation to the wounded, scared girl. With a smile, she set to cleaning the gashes on Abby's wrists, and splinting the one she was quite sure was fractured.

"Abby, look. I don't know the best way to break this to you, but I am alive. I am real, but I don't have a body in the waking world. To top it all off, I need your help."

Mara sat back to watch her reaction, and to put her own thoughts in order.