44.1- Nightmare Girl
This began as a songstory but evolved into a whole mini-chapter, so there you have it. Enjoy.
WARNINGS: Violence, death, dream sequences
Inigo Granger sat in a subway car. It was metallic and sleek, albeit a bit dingy. Outside the windows, the dirty brick walls of the underground tunnels whizzed by.
He crossed his legs and sat back casually. It took him a moment to take in the unnatural silence. Even the clicking of the train tracks seemed muted, and no one was talking.
Suddenly, he realized the train car was totally deserted. Fear set in quickly; this was not normal. What was he even doing here? Where was he?
The train slowed to a silent station, and the doors slid open with a soft hiss.
A woman, conservatively dressed, entered the train car. Her high-heeled shoes clacked on the ground as the train started to move again.
She glanced around and took a seat next to Inigo.
He felt an odd surge of reassurance, a feeling that he could trust this girl. He didn't pause to consider this; he was ecstatic at the mere fact of human presence on the eerie compartment.
"Um, excuse me. Do you know where this train is going?" he asked hesitatingly.
She smiled kindly. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" Her voice echoed in the silence.
"It does, actually. I don't exactly know--"
"Shh." She hushed him pointedly and smiled again.
He searched her face and froze as he recognized it.
"Immy..."
"All that matters is you and me, right? That's what we always used to say. We would have all these fantastic adventures and we had all our secrets. We didn't care what happened in the end because we always had each other, and that was enough. It was always okay...we were always okay." Imago said. Her tone was happy and light; he hadn't heard it so carefree since they were young.
"Immy, what happened to you? You look so...professional," he said, bewildered. "It's not like you."
Her brows creased. "What do you mean? This is what you wanted for me. You wanted me to be like you."
"N-no...that's not--"
"Yes it is. You wanted me to think before I acted, to be reasonable and to be mature," she contradicted him, still in that light voice. It was unnerving and it seemed so inherently wrong within his mind.
"Immy, I was just looking out for you. I didn't mean--"
"Would you save me now?" she interrupted.
He could feel his insides go numb within him. The question chilled him to the bone, and his mouth went dry.
"What do you mean?" he managed to say.
"You chose her instead of me. Why did you do that?" Imago asked. Her tone was childish and sounded more like a plea than a question. The light tone was beginning to falter.
"I...Immy, you have to understand. I didn't choose, exactly--"
"Oh, stop lying!" She cried out as though she had been wounded. She was crying and her makeup was smearing, it was like she was coming apart at the seams, and she was begging, pleading, but all he could do was sit there, baffled and miserable and frozen.
"I wouldn't lie to you!" he said, and he could hear himself pleading, too.
"Just tell me why! Tell me why she was more important to you, tell me why you didn't save me! You could have! I know you could have, and you do too!"
He could feel his heart breaking within him.
"I love her, Immy--"
"But you don't love me?"
"Don't say that! Of course I do, you're my sister!"
He stood up and pulled her into a standing position by her shoulders as she sniffled pitifully.
In the blink of an eye, she went from miserable to enraged.
"You're always lying to me! How could you say you love me when it's so obvious that you don't? You didn't love me enough to help me, and you know it!"
"I tried! You have to believe me, I tried! But you made me so upset I couldn't think straight, and I know I hurt you but I didn't want to! I never wanted to!" he protested dejectedly.
"The instant Vanessa Benson came along, you stopped caring," she accused venomously.
"That's not true. I always cared for you...I never stopped--"
"Liar!"
"Just because I loved her doesn't mean I cared for you any less! Please understand me...please..." he begged, but she was unrelenting.
"You were caught up in love and romance and all for what? She can't possibly know you like I do, or care for you like I do, but you left me alone and you let me die."
The words cut like knives and he could feel tears start to well up in his eyes.
"It's all your fault."
Those words, those hated words, those words which reverberated in his head so many times a day, the only words he could think of the day Imago died had always hurt, but hearing them in her voice was torturous beyond belief. Everyone assured him it hadn't been his fault and he mustn't blame himself, but he knew they were all simply trying to make him feel better.
Her face twisted in rage, Imago reached out and punched him right over his heart. He listlessly accepted the stinging blow. I deserve it... he thought miserably.
He looked at her, and she seemed to be fading away into black and white. She looked paler and weaker than she had just moments before.
And abruptly, the scene changed.
The world was red and black and alight with bright color. Imago looked so tired and drawn, with ashen hair and a red, blistered face.
Her voice was dazed as she said, "Inny...if you loved me, you'd save me..."
"I'm trying. I'll bring you back with magic. I swear I will, I've learned the spell, I'm just gathering ingredients. I'll make it all up to you," he assured her; somehow, she was so far from him now.
"Prove it," she whispered, showing scorched, coal-black eyes as a tongue of flame burst up behind her.
"NO!" Inigo yelled as the fire enveloped her. Her screams were blood-curdling, and he couldn't help but flinch at the searing heat of the fire. He wanted to run into the flames and pull her out, but he seemed rooted to the spot. All he could do was cry out and listen to her panicked shrieks as they echoed in his ears horrifyingly.
The scene was chaos around him. Half of it showcased his burning sister, and the other half was the subway car. But he couldn't take the time to notice this inconsistency.
"Why won't you help me? I knew you didn't care!" Imago yelled, accusatory to the end. Her eyes were alight with flames and hatred.
The words jolted him from his stupor, and his mind went right to work. Magic, he realized in a flash.
"I will save you! Just like I promised! See, my magic...I knew it would help you!" he cried, so relieved he almost wanted to laugh. He waved his wand precisely, despite Imago's continued screams.
"Exflammo!"
In a burst of light, the flames dissipated.
But Imago's screams did not.
Her skin was blistering as if the fire was still upon her, and her screams only became louder and more pain-wracked.
"What? No! Exflammo! Exflammo!" he cried desperately, but nothing happened. "Imago! Immy, I'm trying, I'm trying!"
She was choking as if she was breathing in smoke and she was reaching out for him, her fingers curled at odd angles. With a horrible jolt he remembered a similar scene so many years ago, when he and Imago were teens and she made that horrible eye trade. Then, too, she had reached out to him in the midst of her pain.
And once again, he could do absolutely nothing to help her.
She collapsed onto the red metallic floor, choking and wheezing.
"No, no! Immy, please get up! I tried, you know I tried, please know I tried!" He was sobbing, his breath erratic and his body shaking. All the guilt of his past seemed duplicated and multiplied and forced upon him all at once as his sister's body shuddered and was finally still. "Please!"
"Inigo? Inigo, wake up!"
The world was shaking and splintering around him, and the fiery scene faded away.
"Please...please...no..."
The night was dark outside, but within the Granger estate, Inigo was, once again, tossing, turning, and crying out in his sleep.
"Get up!"
"Exflammo, exflammo..."
"There's no fire! Wake up, wake up!"
With a jolt, he sat up abruptly and opened his eyes.
Panting, he rubbed his eyes blearily. "What...what's going on?"
"Just breathe." Vanessa said soothingly. "You were having another nightmare."
"Oh," he murmured, shame-faced. The nightmares had become a daily occurrence, and he was frustrated by his inability to control himself. "I'm sorry I woke you up..."
"It's not your fault you're having nightmares." Vanessa said placidly.
The words your fault made him cringe. "I was on a train, and Imago got on and she sat next to me, and she was crying and yelling and then she was...she was dying..."
"Well, it was only a nightmare. Go back to sleep, okay?" she said, wrapping an arm around him and lying down again.
"I...no, I can't sleep. I don't want to have that nightmare again, or any of them," he said, anxiously but vehemently, pulling away from her.
"It's just a nightmare, it's nothing to be afraid of--"
"You didn't see it!" he snapped, immediately regretting his harshness.
"Maybe if you talked about it..."
"I don't want to talk about it, Vanessa. I just need some time to myself."
"It's not healthy for you to keep all this to yourself!" she said irately.
"Vanessa, you're my wife, not my mother. I can take care of this myself." He brushed her hand away and got out of bed.
"Fine," she said icily, pulling the covers over herself. "Sorry for sparing the thought. Clearly these constant nightmares are nothing I should worry about, and clearly you know exactly what you're doing, because it's not like these nightmares have gotten worse or anything."
"Vanessa, I didn't mean--"
"Yes, you did mean that. Just go and do whatever you have to do." Vanessa interrupted. "Next time, I won't worry."
She turned so her back was facing him as he sighed.
"Come on, Vanessa, don't be like that."
She said nothing.
"I just don't want to upset you..." he muttered, more to himself than to her.
He changed his clothes and teleported into his magic workshop.
As the light from the teleportation spell faded, Inigo's mind was still full of the train dream. He was very tired, but horrific scenes from this latest nightmare played out every time he closed his eyes.
I'll just study for a little while...get all this out of my head... he thought, yearning for a dreamless sleep.
In a daze, he began staring into his cauldron, bubbling bright and blue. He looked longingly at the couch in the room, and could feel himself growing even more tired. His eyes were half-closed...he needed to sleep...
He could see Imago's face swimming in the cauldron, but all of his senses were dulled by want of sleep.
****
I'm distilling everything she said into a potion
But it's always going to my head in slow motion
Oh, nightmare girl
Things are getting weirder
At the speed of light
Nightmare girl
All this fever dreaming
Kills my appetite
For another restless night
When she wanted me to exorcise
Her self-possession
And in failing that, she wanted lies
And vivisection
Oh, nightmare girl
Things are getting weirder
At the speed of light
Nightmare girl
All this fever dreaming
Kills my appetite
For another restless night
I'm on the train to Brooklyn
I'm on the IRT
I gotta think I'm saving the day
I get a call in the night
I get a call at three
I gotta go and make it okay
'Cause things are getting weirder
At the speed of light
Nightmare girl
All this fever dreaming
Kills my appetite
Nightmare girl
Things are getting weirder
Things are getting weirder
Things are getting weirder...
Inigo awoke suddenly to find himself dozing on the couch.
What woke him was something unusual: the usual Imago nightmares had been interrupted. Instead, the image that jolted him back into consciousness was one of Vanessa.
I don't understand, he thought blearily, getting up and crossing over to his cauldron. Why would I have a nightmare about Vanessa? She's not dead...she's not in danger at all...
He looked into the depths of the vessel, expecting, once again, to see Imago's shimmering face staring back at him.
But there again was Vanessa, and for the first time, ghostly voices rose from the cauldron. The voices were barely audible, little more than whispers, but the words were achingly familiar to Inigo.
"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"
"I just...I can't. You wouldn't believe me."
"Oh, really? Try me. You'd be surprised..."
He turned away from the cauldron, and the images and voices faded into nothingness. But the memories they had stirred up only became more prominent in Inigo's mind.
It was clear now. He and Vanessa had been together for years, but during those years, there had been so many times when he had pushed her away. And yet, she never gave up on him. Whenever he, in an attempt to be selfless, had hurt her by building walls around himself, she had always been undeterred and she had found a way to be near him.
He had broken her heart (and his own) in college, but she took him back upon his return to her later that night. She demanded answers and she accepted the ones he gave her, no matter how ludicrous they were.
She had stood by him at Imago's funeral, despite the poor relationship Vanessa and Imago had had in life. She and their children, Joss, Jo, and Jack, were the only things to draw him even slightly out of the dark, spiraling depression that resulted from Imago's death.
For all these years, he had thought he would be better off alone, and every time she had proved him wrong. Why was he still denying her whenever she tried to help him?
He left the workshop in haste and returned to the darkened bedroom.
"Hi," he whispered, inching close to her.
"Hey," she said softly, offering a smile.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"It's okay; you've been so stressed lately. Just try to get some sleep."
He clung to her, listening to her heart beat reliably, soothingly, reminding him she was still there. He could feel her fingers running through his hair as he breathed in that familiar apple blossom scent.
"Thank you...just for being there." Inigo murmured. She pulled him closer as a reply, and he could feel himself beginning to drift off to sleep.
But she fell asleep long before he did. New fears were filling his head, while the old ones still haunted him.
Vanessa had endured so much; he never really stopped to think how much tolerance she had to have for him. He realized now he was perhaps the most difficult boyfriend or husband ever, with his jealous and nightmare-inducing sister, affinity for the supernatural, and his lack of faith in her and his way of guarding himself against everyone, even those who loved him the most.
How much more would she take until she gave up for good?
~June
WARNINGS: Violence, death, dream sequences
Inigo Granger sat in a subway car. It was metallic and sleek, albeit a bit dingy. Outside the windows, the dirty brick walls of the underground tunnels whizzed by.
He crossed his legs and sat back casually. It took him a moment to take in the unnatural silence. Even the clicking of the train tracks seemed muted, and no one was talking.
Suddenly, he realized the train car was totally deserted. Fear set in quickly; this was not normal. What was he even doing here? Where was he?
The train slowed to a silent station, and the doors slid open with a soft hiss.
A woman, conservatively dressed, entered the train car. Her high-heeled shoes clacked on the ground as the train started to move again.
She glanced around and took a seat next to Inigo.
He felt an odd surge of reassurance, a feeling that he could trust this girl. He didn't pause to consider this; he was ecstatic at the mere fact of human presence on the eerie compartment.
"Um, excuse me. Do you know where this train is going?" he asked hesitatingly.
She smiled kindly. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" Her voice echoed in the silence.
"It does, actually. I don't exactly know--"
"Shh." She hushed him pointedly and smiled again.
He searched her face and froze as he recognized it.
"Immy..."
"All that matters is you and me, right? That's what we always used to say. We would have all these fantastic adventures and we had all our secrets. We didn't care what happened in the end because we always had each other, and that was enough. It was always okay...we were always okay." Imago said. Her tone was happy and light; he hadn't heard it so carefree since they were young.
"Immy, what happened to you? You look so...professional," he said, bewildered. "It's not like you."
Her brows creased. "What do you mean? This is what you wanted for me. You wanted me to be like you."
"N-no...that's not--"
"Yes it is. You wanted me to think before I acted, to be reasonable and to be mature," she contradicted him, still in that light voice. It was unnerving and it seemed so inherently wrong within his mind.
"Immy, I was just looking out for you. I didn't mean--"
"Would you save me now?" she interrupted.
He could feel his insides go numb within him. The question chilled him to the bone, and his mouth went dry.
"What do you mean?" he managed to say.
"You chose her instead of me. Why did you do that?" Imago asked. Her tone was childish and sounded more like a plea than a question. The light tone was beginning to falter.
"I...Immy, you have to understand. I didn't choose, exactly--"
"Oh, stop lying!" She cried out as though she had been wounded. She was crying and her makeup was smearing, it was like she was coming apart at the seams, and she was begging, pleading, but all he could do was sit there, baffled and miserable and frozen.
"I wouldn't lie to you!" he said, and he could hear himself pleading, too.
"Just tell me why! Tell me why she was more important to you, tell me why you didn't save me! You could have! I know you could have, and you do too!"
He could feel his heart breaking within him.
"I love her, Immy--"
"But you don't love me?"
"Don't say that! Of course I do, you're my sister!"
He stood up and pulled her into a standing position by her shoulders as she sniffled pitifully.
In the blink of an eye, she went from miserable to enraged.
"You're always lying to me! How could you say you love me when it's so obvious that you don't? You didn't love me enough to help me, and you know it!"
"I tried! You have to believe me, I tried! But you made me so upset I couldn't think straight, and I know I hurt you but I didn't want to! I never wanted to!" he protested dejectedly.
"The instant Vanessa Benson came along, you stopped caring," she accused venomously.
"That's not true. I always cared for you...I never stopped--"
"Liar!"
"Just because I loved her doesn't mean I cared for you any less! Please understand me...please..." he begged, but she was unrelenting.
"You were caught up in love and romance and all for what? She can't possibly know you like I do, or care for you like I do, but you left me alone and you let me die."
The words cut like knives and he could feel tears start to well up in his eyes.
"It's all your fault."
Those words, those hated words, those words which reverberated in his head so many times a day, the only words he could think of the day Imago died had always hurt, but hearing them in her voice was torturous beyond belief. Everyone assured him it hadn't been his fault and he mustn't blame himself, but he knew they were all simply trying to make him feel better.
Her face twisted in rage, Imago reached out and punched him right over his heart. He listlessly accepted the stinging blow. I deserve it... he thought miserably.
He looked at her, and she seemed to be fading away into black and white. She looked paler and weaker than she had just moments before.
And abruptly, the scene changed.
The world was red and black and alight with bright color. Imago looked so tired and drawn, with ashen hair and a red, blistered face.
Her voice was dazed as she said, "Inny...if you loved me, you'd save me..."
"I'm trying. I'll bring you back with magic. I swear I will, I've learned the spell, I'm just gathering ingredients. I'll make it all up to you," he assured her; somehow, she was so far from him now.
"Prove it," she whispered, showing scorched, coal-black eyes as a tongue of flame burst up behind her.
"NO!" Inigo yelled as the fire enveloped her. Her screams were blood-curdling, and he couldn't help but flinch at the searing heat of the fire. He wanted to run into the flames and pull her out, but he seemed rooted to the spot. All he could do was cry out and listen to her panicked shrieks as they echoed in his ears horrifyingly.
The scene was chaos around him. Half of it showcased his burning sister, and the other half was the subway car. But he couldn't take the time to notice this inconsistency.
"Why won't you help me? I knew you didn't care!" Imago yelled, accusatory to the end. Her eyes were alight with flames and hatred.
The words jolted him from his stupor, and his mind went right to work. Magic, he realized in a flash.
"I will save you! Just like I promised! See, my magic...I knew it would help you!" he cried, so relieved he almost wanted to laugh. He waved his wand precisely, despite Imago's continued screams.
"Exflammo!"
In a burst of light, the flames dissipated.
But Imago's screams did not.
Her skin was blistering as if the fire was still upon her, and her screams only became louder and more pain-wracked.
"What? No! Exflammo! Exflammo!" he cried desperately, but nothing happened. "Imago! Immy, I'm trying, I'm trying!"
She was choking as if she was breathing in smoke and she was reaching out for him, her fingers curled at odd angles. With a horrible jolt he remembered a similar scene so many years ago, when he and Imago were teens and she made that horrible eye trade. Then, too, she had reached out to him in the midst of her pain.
And once again, he could do absolutely nothing to help her.
She collapsed onto the red metallic floor, choking and wheezing.
"No, no! Immy, please get up! I tried, you know I tried, please know I tried!" He was sobbing, his breath erratic and his body shaking. All the guilt of his past seemed duplicated and multiplied and forced upon him all at once as his sister's body shuddered and was finally still. "Please!"
"Inigo? Inigo, wake up!"
The world was shaking and splintering around him, and the fiery scene faded away.
"Please...please...no..."
The night was dark outside, but within the Granger estate, Inigo was, once again, tossing, turning, and crying out in his sleep.
"Get up!"
"Exflammo, exflammo..."
"There's no fire! Wake up, wake up!"
With a jolt, he sat up abruptly and opened his eyes.
Panting, he rubbed his eyes blearily. "What...what's going on?"
"Just breathe." Vanessa said soothingly. "You were having another nightmare."
"Oh," he murmured, shame-faced. The nightmares had become a daily occurrence, and he was frustrated by his inability to control himself. "I'm sorry I woke you up..."
"It's not your fault you're having nightmares." Vanessa said placidly.
The words your fault made him cringe. "I was on a train, and Imago got on and she sat next to me, and she was crying and yelling and then she was...she was dying..."
"Well, it was only a nightmare. Go back to sleep, okay?" she said, wrapping an arm around him and lying down again.
"I...no, I can't sleep. I don't want to have that nightmare again, or any of them," he said, anxiously but vehemently, pulling away from her.
"It's just a nightmare, it's nothing to be afraid of--"
"You didn't see it!" he snapped, immediately regretting his harshness.
"Maybe if you talked about it..."
"I don't want to talk about it, Vanessa. I just need some time to myself."
"It's not healthy for you to keep all this to yourself!" she said irately.
"Vanessa, you're my wife, not my mother. I can take care of this myself." He brushed her hand away and got out of bed.
"Fine," she said icily, pulling the covers over herself. "Sorry for sparing the thought. Clearly these constant nightmares are nothing I should worry about, and clearly you know exactly what you're doing, because it's not like these nightmares have gotten worse or anything."
"Vanessa, I didn't mean--"
"Yes, you did mean that. Just go and do whatever you have to do." Vanessa interrupted. "Next time, I won't worry."
She turned so her back was facing him as he sighed.
"Come on, Vanessa, don't be like that."
She said nothing.
"I just don't want to upset you..." he muttered, more to himself than to her.
He changed his clothes and teleported into his magic workshop.
As the light from the teleportation spell faded, Inigo's mind was still full of the train dream. He was very tired, but horrific scenes from this latest nightmare played out every time he closed his eyes.
I'll just study for a little while...get all this out of my head... he thought, yearning for a dreamless sleep.
In a daze, he began staring into his cauldron, bubbling bright and blue. He looked longingly at the couch in the room, and could feel himself growing even more tired. His eyes were half-closed...he needed to sleep...
He could see Imago's face swimming in the cauldron, but all of his senses were dulled by want of sleep.
****
I'm distilling everything she said into a potion
But it's always going to my head in slow motion
Oh, nightmare girl
Things are getting weirder
At the speed of light
Nightmare girl
All this fever dreaming
Kills my appetite
For another restless night
When she wanted me to exorcise
Her self-possession
And in failing that, she wanted lies
And vivisection
Oh, nightmare girl
Things are getting weirder
At the speed of light
Nightmare girl
All this fever dreaming
Kills my appetite
For another restless night
I'm on the train to Brooklyn
I'm on the IRT
I gotta think I'm saving the day
I get a call in the night
I get a call at three
I gotta go and make it okay
'Cause things are getting weirder
At the speed of light
Nightmare girl
All this fever dreaming
Kills my appetite
Nightmare girl
Things are getting weirder
Things are getting weirder
Things are getting weirder...
Inigo awoke suddenly to find himself dozing on the couch.
What woke him was something unusual: the usual Imago nightmares had been interrupted. Instead, the image that jolted him back into consciousness was one of Vanessa.
I don't understand, he thought blearily, getting up and crossing over to his cauldron. Why would I have a nightmare about Vanessa? She's not dead...she's not in danger at all...
He looked into the depths of the vessel, expecting, once again, to see Imago's shimmering face staring back at him.
But there again was Vanessa, and for the first time, ghostly voices rose from the cauldron. The voices were barely audible, little more than whispers, but the words were achingly familiar to Inigo.
"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"
"I just...I can't. You wouldn't believe me."
"Oh, really? Try me. You'd be surprised..."
He turned away from the cauldron, and the images and voices faded into nothingness. But the memories they had stirred up only became more prominent in Inigo's mind.
It was clear now. He and Vanessa had been together for years, but during those years, there had been so many times when he had pushed her away. And yet, she never gave up on him. Whenever he, in an attempt to be selfless, had hurt her by building walls around himself, she had always been undeterred and she had found a way to be near him.
He had broken her heart (and his own) in college, but she took him back upon his return to her later that night. She demanded answers and she accepted the ones he gave her, no matter how ludicrous they were.
She had stood by him at Imago's funeral, despite the poor relationship Vanessa and Imago had had in life. She and their children, Joss, Jo, and Jack, were the only things to draw him even slightly out of the dark, spiraling depression that resulted from Imago's death.
For all these years, he had thought he would be better off alone, and every time she had proved him wrong. Why was he still denying her whenever she tried to help him?
He left the workshop in haste and returned to the darkened bedroom.
"Hi," he whispered, inching close to her.
"Hey," she said softly, offering a smile.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"It's okay; you've been so stressed lately. Just try to get some sleep."
He clung to her, listening to her heart beat reliably, soothingly, reminding him she was still there. He could feel her fingers running through his hair as he breathed in that familiar apple blossom scent.
"Thank you...just for being there." Inigo murmured. She pulled him closer as a reply, and he could feel himself beginning to drift off to sleep.
But she fell asleep long before he did. New fears were filling his head, while the old ones still haunted him.
Vanessa had endured so much; he never really stopped to think how much tolerance she had to have for him. He realized now he was perhaps the most difficult boyfriend or husband ever, with his jealous and nightmare-inducing sister, affinity for the supernatural, and his lack of faith in her and his way of guarding himself against everyone, even those who loved him the most.
How much more would she take until she gave up for good?
~June