the curtains flew, then he appeared

[cibosity]

The metal of the gun which he gripped in his hands was cool, though it wouldn't remain that way for long. Firearms were a necessary evil. If a man was lucky, he wouldn't ever have to pull the trigger on anyone, would live a full life without knowing how gunpowder smelled or the way that a gun came to life after a shot fired, surface hot to the

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[cibosity]

Something about the whole situation didn't sit well in his stomach, like there was acid bubbling and begging to be let through, but he held it down, because if there was anything worse than doing a bad deed, it was pulling through with the heaviest of reservations and taking all weight away from the action altogether. One couldn't kill with any shade of uncertainty, unless one was just suicidal enough to think oneself capable of living with that crushing guilt for the rest of one's life. Couldn't stand outside an eatery and wait for Cajun-style shrimp, looking for shreds of humanity in one's target. No, that was just suicide, and he wasn't suicidal.

He just couldn't live with his wife anymore, and at least he was aware enough to make that judgment.

Starting to attention when he heard the stairs creak some distance behind them, he quickly stepped into the hall and turned around, his back facing the bedroom and gun aimed easily in the direction of whoever had been foolish enough to think themselves capable of interrupting right then. Maybe it was her, he thought viciously, and somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he could hear the quiet sniffles of a young body hiding safe under the bed.

"Show your damn face, woman," he breathed, the trigger warm under his finger.

[poison_lipstick]

Well, this was different.

Saffron reached the top of the stairs and advanced slowly, just far enough for Sawyer to be able to see her. No sound of Reavers, yet, but who the gui knew what was going to happen here.

"It's just me, Sawyer," she said calmly, holding her hands slightly out from her sides so he could see they were empty. She didn't think he would shoot her normally, but nothing about this was normal. Saffron wasn't even sure he was really seeing her, or what he thought was going on.

[cibosity]

"Why'd you do it?" He asked immediately, eyes weaving in and out of focus, seeing her but more past her, down to the woman who lay underneath, the one for whom he hadn't been and never was enough. Still, his nerves tingled, frayed as they were at the ends, and that warning was enough for him to push past any residual doubt and uncertainty. Neo could have lived a far happier life if he'd just stayed the hell on course.

So he poured salt in the wound, letting his eyes rake over her body, tainted as it was, and through her hair, wanting nothing more than to weave his fingers there and tug all thoughts of that other man out.

The finger pressed back lightly on the trigger, not enough to quite set it off.

"What's he got that I don't? What's he got that mattered more than our family? I just ain't understandin' here."

[poison_lipstick]

Saffron didn't at all like the way Sawyer was pointing that gun at her. He was aiming it with intent, not as an empty threat. "What's who got?" she asked, frowning in confusion. "Sawyer, it's me. Helen. This isn't real. I don't know who you think you're talking to, honey, but you've gotta snap out of it."

[cibosity]

Maybe all that it required was a bit of mind over matter, but even as Sawyer started stirring in the back of his mind, he wouldn't put the gun down. It was like being trapped in another body, barely hanging onto awareness, and in spite of Sawyer being who he was, never heeding the directions of another, always choosing to do whatever the hell he wanted, he found that he no longer had control. That acid burning through his chest, it wouldn't let him put the gun down.

"I'm sorry," he whispered then, pulling the trigger back viciously as the air suddenly smelled of gunpowder and red splattered all over the wall. Even if Helen might not have felt a thing, all Sawyer saw was red, and he turned to head right back to his room, gun still in hand.

[poison_lipstick]

It was a damn good thing Saffron's reflexes were quick, kept sharp by the conditioning she kept up on the island, otherwise things could have been a lot worse. And nightmare or no, regardless of there being no lasting physical effects once they got out of the cloud, it still hurt like hell to get shot.

She tried to dive out of the way at his whispered apology, but the bullet still grazed her arm, and she let out a choked cry as she hit the wall. "Sawyer," she tried as he walked away, but it came out as little more than a moan. She took a breath and tried again, and this time her voice was there full force as she yelled. "James!"

[cibosity]

The gun was already pressed against the lower edge of his jaw, metal too hot to go without searing and leaving a red imprint there, when he heard his name. There was no sudden flooding realization, but in its place, his stomach twisted violently, nausea coming and going in waves as he turned around to face her again. The red on the walls faded. Her face grew more distinct. But all the while, that gun was still pressed to the line of his jaw, still ready to fire at a moment's notice, because anything had to be better than how he was feeling right then.

"Why are you here?" he asked, swallowing thickly. James was the small child who had retreated safely under his parents' bed when instructed, who hadn't lifted a single finger to help, because he was only so young. Sawyer wasn't sure he was James anymore, and he certainly didn't feel it then. "You're not supposed to be here, Helen."

[poison_lipstick]

"I'm not," Saffron replied, breathing a little hard, and leaning heavily against the wall with the opposite hand clamped over her wound. It wasn't that bad, but it stung like a son of a bitch. "And neither are you. It was that cloud you went into, it makes you live your worst nightmare. And unless you want to stick around and wait for my worst nightmare to come tearing through here, which believe me, you don't, we need to get out of this place. Sawyer, lower your gun."

[cibosity]

He tried. He tried his best, his eyes narrowing until they squeezed shut. He allowed himself to break his gaze away from the woman, from the area around him, even thought it was always dangerous to let his guard down in any capacity. But he tried nonetheless, because maybe she was right, and he was just living a nightmare, and wasn't that a blessing in of itself, because nightmares could be woken from at all. Breath coming shallow, Sawyer gritted his teeth, before he shook his head, the gun still pressed closely to his jaw.

"I can't," he replied, taking a few steps backward, feeling as though he were watching the entire series of events from the backseat and through fog. "Get outta here, Ginger, I can handle this myself. But not if you're here."

[poison_lipstick]

"I'm not leaving here without you," she ground out, though she didn't know what in the 'verse she was going to do to get him to lower the gun and come with her.

Then it was too late. She could hear them, outside the house and coming fast, and she knew they'd stop at nothing to get inside and get to her and Sawyer.

"Oh, hell," Saffron said flatly. "You're gonna want to lower that gun, Sawyer. Reavers are coming, and they're the worst kind of thing you can think of. You got any other weapons?" Nothing was going to stop this, and they needed to be able to defend themselves long enough to get the hell out.

[cibosity]

"The hell are Reavers?" Sawyer asked in confusion, the hand holding the gun to his chin loosening slightly, coming and going with the amount of attention he was diverting away from it. The fact that he was living a nightmare still had yet to sink fully in for him- it was all too real, too vivid, and more than anything else, it hurt. Maybe it was a common misconception that dreams contained no level of pain, but when he was swimming in and out of consciousness to begin with, logic wasn't precisely the greatest guiding force.

But he did manage a measured breath, suppressing flashes of memories and experiences that passed through, flickering through both of their minds. A mother, grabbing tightly at his arms, telling him to hide. The underside of a bed, dusty and cold. Gunshot. Slow, steady steps sounding on the floor. Gunshot. Thirty years ahead, the sizzle of shrimp in a wok. Gunshot.

The gun broke free, but Sawyer backed down a couple of steps.

"Ain't got anythin' other than a gun with a single clip," he replied.

[poison_lipstick]

"I'll give you the whole sordid story once we're out of this gorram mess, if you want, but the short version is that they're men, but just barely, and they're pure rage. They don't just kill, they rape, torture, and worse." She could hear them clearer now; they were seconds away from reaching the house.

She saw it, that scene from under the bed, and the dots connected; the origin of Sawyer's chosen name for himself. She couldn't quite figure on how it all went together, with that brief glimpse, but she was definitely going to ask him about it. Just as soon as they weren't fixing to fight for their lives.

"Māde," Saffron said with exasperation, pushing herself away from the wall. "Well, the kitchen's bound to have a butcher knife or two, right? That's something."

[Fuck]

[cibosity]

She saw. He could tell from the look that flickered over her face that Helen had seen the same scenes Sawyer had, and it was more than enough to make him swear under his breath, words that he kept quiet enough so that they wouldn't sully her ears. This island, it was starting to look even worse than the last, because at least before, the only person worming into his past was very much human and thus limited by all that police records ever detailed. Damn it.

"Kitchen's downstairs," he muttered briefly, before heading ahead to look down the stairs and hoping that they were still clear, an arm held out to keep Helen back. Protected, or as close to it as he could manage with the way things were. "And if they're physically still men, we'll manage, Ginger. As long as they ain't ninjas."

[poison_lipstick]

Saffron almost had to laugh at how Sawyer was trying to protect her, but given that she was injured, she let him for the time being. She was going to need all the strength she could muster to fight off the Reavers. "We'll manage," she agreed, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "We just need to get past them and then we can get the hell out of this cloud."

They reached the kitchen just as the Reavers reached the house, and all around them was the sound of the monsters trying to break down doors and smashing in windows.

[cibosity]

Shifting from his nightmare to hers made it somehow easier, as did knowing that he was caught in a dream at all. In dreams, one could do anything, feel anything, without greater consequence than to wake up with a pounding heart and covered in a cold sweat. The gun which Sawyer held in his hand, a small silver pistol, was in the blink of an eye a shotgun. Throwing the strap over his shoulder, he aimed in the direction of a window that was sure to get shattered sooner or later, shooting directly and felling one of the Reavers.

Not too difficult, but it was only one.

"Okay, these things, they got a weakness?" he asked loudly, trying to settle on one to hit next.

[poison_lipstick]

"Not really," Saffron said, as the butcher knife she picked up suddenly became an axe remarkably like the one she'd found the last time. She spoke quickly, moving to be ready for the Reavers that were about to burst through the nearby door. "They're just men, technically, so they can be killed just like anyone, but they don't fear anything and they're relentless."

A Reaver burst into the room right by her, and in the split second before it noticed her she swung around and gave it a roundhouse kick to the head, then finished it off with her axe.