Author's website: http://unhinged.kixxster.org

Disclaimer: Not mine. Given the way I've been treating them recently, that's probably a good thing.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes:

This story is a sequel to: Fourth in the "Slipping Through the Cracks" Series. Takes place immediately after "InnerVision"

Dreamcatcher
By MR

In the end, despite my firm conviction that I would not involve anyone else in the affair, I contacted Quinn.

It wasn't that hard to do really. One of us has to go into town periodically for supplies, and as Ray's fond of saying, he's certainly not the person to be doing it. And much as it shames me to admit it, I've actually begun to look forward to these brief respites from the cabin. Not because I love Ray any less, but because he's starting to frighten me.

I debated about us meeting in town, but in the end I told Quinn to come to the cabin. I detest hiding things from Ray, though I'm positive he's hiding something from me. His near panic when we first came here has, over time, given way to an eerie calm I find more disturbing than his initial hysterics. I sometimes get the feeling he's waiting for something.

I mentioned this to him once and he simply laughed. "And what do you think I'm waiting for, Ben?" The fact that I couldn't tell him seemed to settle the matter, at least in his mind.

"Frase?"

I look at him, framed in the bedroom doorway. If it weren't for the wrap-around mirrored sunglasses, which replaced the bandages several months ago, and the fact that he's thinner now than when we first moved here, I could almost believe nothing's changed. His posture is the same boneless slouch it was in Chicago.

He smiles slightly. "That supper I smell?"

I almost nod, then remember he can't see me. "Caribou stew again, I'm afraid. We're almost out of everything else."

He nods, moving into the room, easily weaving a path between the table and chairs and other furniture, until he's standing on the other side of the counter. "Time to go for more supplies." It's not a question, just a statement of fact.

"Probably tomorrow or the next day." I add some spices to the stew. "Though if worse comes to worse, I suppose we could always send Dief out to catch rabbits."

That makes him laugh softly. "Think you could talk'im into not half-eating them before he brings them home?"

It's these moments of normalcy that scare me the most. As if what happened in Chicago and our nightmare flight to here, the only place Ray feels truly safe, were nothing more but a bad dream.

"Ben." I glance up to find him standing next to me, head titled to one side, and oh God, I wish I could see his eyes again; those beautiful clear blue eyes, instead of the flat starkness of my own reflection distorted back at me.

And before I know it he's got his arms around me, pulling me close, holding me, and as I struggle against threatening tears, one hand begins to stroke my hair. "Shh. It'll be okay, Ben. I promise it'll be okay."

The idea strikes me then that both of us have gone mad. The isolation of the wilderness has finally exacted its toll. It seems such a perfectly reasonable idea.

Unresisting, I allow him to lead me into the bedroom, where he strips me, then himself, and guides us both onto the bed, intent on easing my mind in what is probably the only way he can. Kisses and touching, and in the heat of the moment, the heady rush of this connection between us that even the horror hasn't managed to break, I can almost believe nothing's changed. So sweet, my Ray is, so gentle, and the end comes far too fast for both of us.

Lying sated in the aftermath, my head pillowed on his chest, more than half asleep, I realize he's whispering under his breath.

"It'll be okay, Ben, I promise. I'll take care of you, 'kay? I won't let'em have you. I'll keep you safe. You've just gotta trust me a little longer. I know what to do now, really, and I'll know when they get close, and I won't let them hurt you. Can you do that, Ben? Can you trust me that much?"

I look up at him, wishing I could strip those sunglasses off and look into his eyes. But I know better than to try. "Do you mean that?"

His arms tighten around me. "I mean it, Ben. I'll keep you safe. Just...can you be patient a little longer? There's so much I wanna tell you, but I can't right now. I've gotta concentrate."

I open my mouth to ask him what he's concentrating on, then close it, question unasked. "Ray, the stew..."

"S'okay. I turned it off. You need to sleep, Ben. I know you haven't been sleeping like you should." His hands brush my hair out of my eyes. "Go to sleep, Ben. I'll stand guard."

I'm so tired. So tired, and so very afraid that this will never end; that we're doomed to spend the remainder of our lives isolated in the middle of nowhere. "You'll be my dream catcher?"

He laughs softly. "Yeah, Ben. Your own personal dream catcher."

I nod, snuggling closer, feeling his hands draw the quilt over us, and I fall asleep to the sound of his words, soft and quiet as a summer shower, telling me how much he loves me and how he'll never, ever let me down.

FIN

End Dreamcatcher by MR: psykaos42@yahoo.com

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