[RP with Summers_Grey] Dreaming, Redux
Nathaniel dreams of Rachel, again. This time, she's really here.
Nothing in this except a moment where Rachel says a few significant things, and Nathaniel takes them to heart. Whatever sort of heart he has.
After his dream encounter with the Phoenix, Nathaniel was a bit wary of going to sleep. His dreams following that, however, were normal sorts of things. In one, he was explaining to Isobel--who was wearing a bonnet and a child's ruffled dress--why she could not swim in the Thames, because it had turned into lava. In another, he was on Apocalypse's ship, but he was there with the team from Ghost Hunters.
All very benign.
Tonight, he was someplace familiar. The Louvre, standing in the gallery with Remberandt's Descent from the Cross. The light was low and warm. There was a golden tone that gave him a momentary pause, but there was no sign of anything other-worldly, so he continued looking at it. What an odd place to be in his dream.
If I am going to dream about places where I remember being with Rachel, could not my subconscious have the decency to put her naked in my bed?
Nathaniel thought he heard laughter, but he was probably imagining that. The painting was very lovely. He remembered how Rachel had looked, standing in front of it. His Rachel.
Firebrand.
"Now, listen here," Nathaniel spoke, his words oddly warped in the way of dreams. "Either show yourself or leave me to my dreams in peace."
He didn't expect an answer.
Her bedroom in the mansion was quiet. Rachel curled on the bed, the covers pulled high up over her. Holding her bears. She listened to her breathing, soft in the stillness.
Rachel felt a little restless.
She shifted, trying to get comfortable. The covers were touching her too much, but she was cold without them. She felt . . . Rachel wasn't sure. Not bad, really, just, something. Never mind, she told herself in exasperation. Go to sleep.
Rachel walked through the hallways of the Louvre, trailing her fingertips over the oil paintings, the pastels, touching the priceless art, the paints like salt under her nails. She wanted to look back, to see if she had damaged them, but she couldn't turn her head. Up there, in front of here, the ball she was chasing, it went around a corner. She could see the golden glow of it spilling across the floor. Rachel walked after it, her hands touching marble, bronze, wood and stone.
"Here chickie chickie chickie . . . " Rachel crouched down in front of the little baby bird, how had she thought it was a ball? Of course it was not a ball. It was a bird, a little bird, burning brightly in her hands. "Hey there," Rachel said, petting it. Abruptly it took off, flying on wings suddenly larger, stronger. It landed across the hall, on the frame of the painting.
Descent from the Cross.
A man stood in front of it, staring up. Rachel looked at the bird, now grown and preening it's red-orange plumage, ashes drifting across on small shifts in the air.
"You could have said something," Rachel said to it. The man turned around.
{{You would have objected}}
"Yes, I would have. Is this, is this supposed to be clever? Sneaky?" Rachel put her fists on her hips and tried to glare, but her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't really be angry. Not when her heart jumped at the sight of him, not when her mouth went dry and she felt herself flush, nervous and happy.
{{All my doings are clever}}
"Hmm. We're going to talk about that later." Rachel turned to the man, to her lover and ex. "Hello Nathaniel."
"This was not me," he said, his hands up. "I am trying very hard to stay away from you, as per the instructions of every single person who has spoken to me about you since you left me." Something odd happened when he said that last bit. A pain, almost. In his chest.
{{You ache for her. She aches for you. We are helping}}
"You are bloody well not," Nathaniel said to it, raking a hand through his hair. He looked at Rachel. "Hello, Rachel." He swallowed, hard. His hands flexed at his sides. He could vividly remember the last time they were here, in this room. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his teeth on her neck. Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly. "Devilishly sneaky of your friend, this is."
"Ah, yeah. Its idea of helpful is actually a little bit like Mystique's." Rachel smiled. She did not step towards him. She put her hand in the pockets of the dream-jacket she was suddenly wearing. Her favorite outfit, really. Black cargo pants, combat boots, green tight tank top, green and gold aviator-style jacket. "My family blames you. For how I showed up on their door. When they're not blaming me." She shrugged, rueful. "Except maybe Lorna, maybe. She sort of thinks if I'm going to implode you might stop me. I don't know who she's been talking to, but I think she believes you love me."
Nathaniel looked startled, and Rachel laughed. She walked towards him, then, and put her hand on his arm. "I know it's not a real dream. I know it's you. But I don't see the point in lying to you, right?" She stepped back a little, putting space between them, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "So, how are you?"
"I am..." Nathaniel cocked his head, thinking. "I am not sure. I am used to feeling nothing. Now I feel something. Often, more than one thing. Oftimes, it is quite exhausting, having emotions." He sighed. "I suppose I am well. Working, research." He thought about what she said. "Your family blames me for a great many things. Likely with reason. And, vixen, if you doubt that I love you, please note how I have left you alone. Do you know odd it is, Rachel, for me? To want something so very, very badly and refuse myself from taking it?" He smiled without humor.
He spread his arms. "Except for this, over which I have no control, I have done as you have wished. As hard as it has been to accomplish."
Rachel eyed the Phoenix sitting on the painting. It was pretending to be asleep. "Yeah, I don't think either of us had a say in this." She sat on the viewing bench and looked at the work hanging on the wall. "I remember meeting you here," she said. "You wanted something badly, and you did not hold back from trying to get it." She sighed. "What was it, that you wanted so very,very badly, then? Do you remember?"
"Yes, of course I remember." He stared at her. "The same thing I want now. Well. Mostly the same." She looked at him, her green eyes serious and somber. Nathaniel wanted to shake some sense into her. Except if he put his hands on her, it wouldn't be to shake her. "You, Rachel. That's what I wanted. It's what I want. Did you think that had changed?"
Rachel shook her head in irritation. "Yes, I mean - no -- " She glared at him, then laughed. "I have never known why you wanted me. My family thought it was to get at them or hurt me, or use me for some scheme. I -- I never really thought about what you might want. I just used what you did and never wondered why. You're a scientist, Nathaniel. Explain it to me?"
"I wanted to hurt you, yes, but I think you understand, at least, that it was not out of malice." He stared at her for a long moment. "I told you, I recognized something you wanted from me as something I wanted to give. I do not know that I can explain it beyond that. Now, of course, I happen to be in love with you. And I want you, and I miss you, and speaking to you is a torture because I am not an idiot, Rachel. I know you are unhappy away from me."
{{we know}}
Nathaniel ignored that. He stayed where he was, unsure what else to say. "I know a great many things, Rachel, but there are some that even I cannot explain. This may well be one of them."
Rachel nodded as he spoke. She sighed. "I think . . . I think my family is wrong, Nathaniel. I've been thinking really hard about this. I --" She looked down, suddenly ashamed. "I had Lorna come get me. Help me. I -- things got a little bad. There. For a bit."
The Phoenix stretched its wings and lowered it's head, hissing silently. Rachel pointed her finger at it firmly. "None of that. You don't say a thing!" It subsided. She shrugged apologetically at Nathaniel. "I don't know why it's pretending to be a bird. Sorry." She raked her hands through her hair again. "Anyway. Lorna, she came and got me, and I think she thinks I can get my act together, and stand on my own. Dr. Lysinski says that, too. Emma thinks I'm toying with everyone for sympathy. And Scott -- " Rachel pulled her feet up on the bench and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Scott thinks I'm really more trouble than I'm worth. He thinks that I will always be haring from one disaster to another, and he's getting tired of it."
Rachel put her head on her knees. "I need to change something. I need to live differently. But I don't know -- I don't think that, necessarily, that being alone is the answer." She looked up, from under her bangs, her eyes bright with near-tears. "I'm broken, Nathaniel. Something inside, it's never been right. And I don't know that it can get fixed. Being with you, that's the best I've felt since I was a kid."
The tears started falling, but Rachel kept talking. The Phoenix flew silently from the painting to stand on the bench behind her. It rested its head on her shoulder, staring at Nathaniel. "You say you recognized I wanted something from you. I think I need it. I think I need you. I think they might be right, you might be a crutch, but, Nathaniel? I think I can't make it through my days without some kind of crutch."
The Phoenix made a noise, a soft purring sound at odds with its avian appearance. It pushed against Rachel. Pushed into her, vanishing inside her body. Rachel stretched, her eyes closing in brief pleasure at the Phoenix's touch. She stood. Walked over to Nathaniel.
Rachel put her hands on his chest. She stood close. Far too close. Rachel tilted her head back. She looked up at him, her breath a little faster now.
"I miss you."
Nathaniel knew he should push her away. This wasn't real, it was a dream. But her words--I think I need you--they did something to him. Fed into that dark, obsessive thing that was his love for her. Nathaniel had never thought much, about if she loved him or not. About if he wanted her to. But oh, he wanted her to need him. To need what he could give her.
"I miss you, too." He looked down at her. He was breathing hard. His hands, seeming of their own volition, went to her waist. He didn't pull her closer, but he wanted to. "I am sorry. For frightening you, that night, in the hallway." His fingers tightened just a little, on her waist.
Rachel pushed, very slightly, at his chest. "I know," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, too. I was rotten to you. I was rotten to everyone, really." Rachel's fingers tightened on his shirt. The fabric bunched beneath her fingers. Rachel laughed, a little breathlessly. "This is us dreaming. So who put in the texture of your shirt, I want to know?"
"You were rotten to you," he said, his tone faintly lecturing. "That was the hardest to watch." He thought about her question. "The Phoenix, perhaps? It seems to be controlling quite a lot of this." He pulled her closer, just a little. "Rachel. If you do not move away from me, I cannot guarantee I shan't--" he blinked. "Ah. I cannot--"
Nathaniel was rarely at a loss for words. She smelled good, Rachel. And her body was warm. Soft. He remembered how she felt beneath his hands, his mouth. His body. He couldn't quite think.
Rachel leaned against him, trapping her hands between their bodies. She ducked her head, pressing her cheek against his chest. "You smell like you, even," she whispered. Rachel slid her hands across his chest and stomach, slowly. "I want to wake up next to you," she said. "And I'm going to have breakfast with Emma instead."
Nathaniel looked up at the ceiling--such as it was--and tried to count to ten. Tried to think of mathematical formulas. Something. "Then come back to me. You know where to find me. Come back, and we shall wake up together." After I spend the evening showing you why you should never have left me. He wondered if she head that. She probably did. He put his hands on her shoulders, to push her away.
That's not what he did.
He tipped her face up, and leaned down. He kissed her, hot and urgent, and pulled her body hard against his.
*Stop me, if you want. I'll let you go.*
Rachel let the Phoenix spill out of her eyes and pushed Nathaniel back. "Stop, please," she said. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide. "I want this very much. But I think -- I think I'm not ready. And now, here -- don't you want to be awake, when we do this?" She pulled the Phoenix back in. Just Rachel.
"I don't want to stop you, really. And --" She looked at him. Looked at his blank, red stare. " -- and I don't want you to let me go. I think you'll see me soon. Sooner than I thought, anyway." She wanted, very much, for him to hurt her. Kiss her, shake her, make her feel right again. Inside her mind the Phoenix watched, listening. I know, Rachel told it. But not like this. No more lying and hiding him. I have to tell them I'm leaving. I have to walk away, not sneak around. The Phoenix grumbled and subsided. "I have to tell them first. Or, at least, I have to tell Jean."
"At this point, I want to do this so badly, I should be willing to do it in front of old blue lips himself," Nathaniel said, only half-joking. Suddenly, he moved forward, towards her. All he did was reach out and trace his fingers over her face, where he knew her hound markings to be. Nathaniel smiled at her. "When you come back to me, I promise you, Rachel. I shan't let you go."
He nodded, and dropped his hand, after tracing his fingers over her mouth briefly. "Tell them. I shall be there. Call to me, if you need me. I will come for you." He bowed, over her hand, and brushed his lips gently across the top of her palm. And then, he let her hand go, and stepped back.
Rachel shivered at his touch and smiled ruefully. "Goodnight, Nathaniel," she said. She turned to walk back the way she came, trusting that the Phoenix would untangle their sleeping minds. "I love you."
Nathaniel smiled at her retreating figure. Something eased and settled within him. It seemed Rachel, in order to love him, had to find her way back to him on her own. Hadn't Isobel said that? She'd be pleased to know she was right. "Goodnight, little one." Nathaniel wasn't sure if Rachel said she loved him because she meant it, or because she thought he wanted to hear it. Either way, it was nice to hear.
There was a dark voice, in his mind, that told him he didn't deserve it. Nathaniel knew that to be true. Before he could return her words, he was awake.
{{we are pleased}}
Nathaniel laughed. So am I. The presence was gone. It was time to wake up, it seemed. For once, he had slept through the night.
Nothing in this except a moment where Rachel says a few significant things, and Nathaniel takes them to heart. Whatever sort of heart he has.
After his dream encounter with the Phoenix, Nathaniel was a bit wary of going to sleep. His dreams following that, however, were normal sorts of things. In one, he was explaining to Isobel--who was wearing a bonnet and a child's ruffled dress--why she could not swim in the Thames, because it had turned into lava. In another, he was on Apocalypse's ship, but he was there with the team from Ghost Hunters.
All very benign.
Tonight, he was someplace familiar. The Louvre, standing in the gallery with Remberandt's Descent from the Cross. The light was low and warm. There was a golden tone that gave him a momentary pause, but there was no sign of anything other-worldly, so he continued looking at it. What an odd place to be in his dream.
If I am going to dream about places where I remember being with Rachel, could not my subconscious have the decency to put her naked in my bed?
Nathaniel thought he heard laughter, but he was probably imagining that. The painting was very lovely. He remembered how Rachel had looked, standing in front of it. His Rachel.
Firebrand.
"Now, listen here," Nathaniel spoke, his words oddly warped in the way of dreams. "Either show yourself or leave me to my dreams in peace."
He didn't expect an answer.
Her bedroom in the mansion was quiet. Rachel curled on the bed, the covers pulled high up over her. Holding her bears. She listened to her breathing, soft in the stillness.
Rachel felt a little restless.
She shifted, trying to get comfortable. The covers were touching her too much, but she was cold without them. She felt . . . Rachel wasn't sure. Not bad, really, just, something. Never mind, she told herself in exasperation. Go to sleep.
Rachel walked through the hallways of the Louvre, trailing her fingertips over the oil paintings, the pastels, touching the priceless art, the paints like salt under her nails. She wanted to look back, to see if she had damaged them, but she couldn't turn her head. Up there, in front of here, the ball she was chasing, it went around a corner. She could see the golden glow of it spilling across the floor. Rachel walked after it, her hands touching marble, bronze, wood and stone.
"Here chickie chickie chickie . . . " Rachel crouched down in front of the little baby bird, how had she thought it was a ball? Of course it was not a ball. It was a bird, a little bird, burning brightly in her hands. "Hey there," Rachel said, petting it. Abruptly it took off, flying on wings suddenly larger, stronger. It landed across the hall, on the frame of the painting.
Descent from the Cross.
A man stood in front of it, staring up. Rachel looked at the bird, now grown and preening it's red-orange plumage, ashes drifting across on small shifts in the air.
"You could have said something," Rachel said to it. The man turned around.
{{You would have objected}}
"Yes, I would have. Is this, is this supposed to be clever? Sneaky?" Rachel put her fists on her hips and tried to glare, but her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't really be angry. Not when her heart jumped at the sight of him, not when her mouth went dry and she felt herself flush, nervous and happy.
{{All my doings are clever}}
"Hmm. We're going to talk about that later." Rachel turned to the man, to her lover and ex. "Hello Nathaniel."
"This was not me," he said, his hands up. "I am trying very hard to stay away from you, as per the instructions of every single person who has spoken to me about you since you left me." Something odd happened when he said that last bit. A pain, almost. In his chest.
{{You ache for her. She aches for you. We are helping}}
"You are bloody well not," Nathaniel said to it, raking a hand through his hair. He looked at Rachel. "Hello, Rachel." He swallowed, hard. His hands flexed at his sides. He could vividly remember the last time they were here, in this room. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his teeth on her neck. Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly. "Devilishly sneaky of your friend, this is."
"Ah, yeah. Its idea of helpful is actually a little bit like Mystique's." Rachel smiled. She did not step towards him. She put her hand in the pockets of the dream-jacket she was suddenly wearing. Her favorite outfit, really. Black cargo pants, combat boots, green tight tank top, green and gold aviator-style jacket. "My family blames you. For how I showed up on their door. When they're not blaming me." She shrugged, rueful. "Except maybe Lorna, maybe. She sort of thinks if I'm going to implode you might stop me. I don't know who she's been talking to, but I think she believes you love me."
Nathaniel looked startled, and Rachel laughed. She walked towards him, then, and put her hand on his arm. "I know it's not a real dream. I know it's you. But I don't see the point in lying to you, right?" She stepped back a little, putting space between them, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "So, how are you?"
"I am..." Nathaniel cocked his head, thinking. "I am not sure. I am used to feeling nothing. Now I feel something. Often, more than one thing. Oftimes, it is quite exhausting, having emotions." He sighed. "I suppose I am well. Working, research." He thought about what she said. "Your family blames me for a great many things. Likely with reason. And, vixen, if you doubt that I love you, please note how I have left you alone. Do you know odd it is, Rachel, for me? To want something so very, very badly and refuse myself from taking it?" He smiled without humor.
He spread his arms. "Except for this, over which I have no control, I have done as you have wished. As hard as it has been to accomplish."
Rachel eyed the Phoenix sitting on the painting. It was pretending to be asleep. "Yeah, I don't think either of us had a say in this." She sat on the viewing bench and looked at the work hanging on the wall. "I remember meeting you here," she said. "You wanted something badly, and you did not hold back from trying to get it." She sighed. "What was it, that you wanted so very,very badly, then? Do you remember?"
"Yes, of course I remember." He stared at her. "The same thing I want now. Well. Mostly the same." She looked at him, her green eyes serious and somber. Nathaniel wanted to shake some sense into her. Except if he put his hands on her, it wouldn't be to shake her. "You, Rachel. That's what I wanted. It's what I want. Did you think that had changed?"
Rachel shook her head in irritation. "Yes, I mean - no -- " She glared at him, then laughed. "I have never known why you wanted me. My family thought it was to get at them or hurt me, or use me for some scheme. I -- I never really thought about what you might want. I just used what you did and never wondered why. You're a scientist, Nathaniel. Explain it to me?"
"I wanted to hurt you, yes, but I think you understand, at least, that it was not out of malice." He stared at her for a long moment. "I told you, I recognized something you wanted from me as something I wanted to give. I do not know that I can explain it beyond that. Now, of course, I happen to be in love with you. And I want you, and I miss you, and speaking to you is a torture because I am not an idiot, Rachel. I know you are unhappy away from me."
{{we know}}
Nathaniel ignored that. He stayed where he was, unsure what else to say. "I know a great many things, Rachel, but there are some that even I cannot explain. This may well be one of them."
Rachel nodded as he spoke. She sighed. "I think . . . I think my family is wrong, Nathaniel. I've been thinking really hard about this. I --" She looked down, suddenly ashamed. "I had Lorna come get me. Help me. I -- things got a little bad. There. For a bit."
The Phoenix stretched its wings and lowered it's head, hissing silently. Rachel pointed her finger at it firmly. "None of that. You don't say a thing!" It subsided. She shrugged apologetically at Nathaniel. "I don't know why it's pretending to be a bird. Sorry." She raked her hands through her hair again. "Anyway. Lorna, she came and got me, and I think she thinks I can get my act together, and stand on my own. Dr. Lysinski says that, too. Emma thinks I'm toying with everyone for sympathy. And Scott -- " Rachel pulled her feet up on the bench and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Scott thinks I'm really more trouble than I'm worth. He thinks that I will always be haring from one disaster to another, and he's getting tired of it."
Rachel put her head on her knees. "I need to change something. I need to live differently. But I don't know -- I don't think that, necessarily, that being alone is the answer." She looked up, from under her bangs, her eyes bright with near-tears. "I'm broken, Nathaniel. Something inside, it's never been right. And I don't know that it can get fixed. Being with you, that's the best I've felt since I was a kid."
The tears started falling, but Rachel kept talking. The Phoenix flew silently from the painting to stand on the bench behind her. It rested its head on her shoulder, staring at Nathaniel. "You say you recognized I wanted something from you. I think I need it. I think I need you. I think they might be right, you might be a crutch, but, Nathaniel? I think I can't make it through my days without some kind of crutch."
The Phoenix made a noise, a soft purring sound at odds with its avian appearance. It pushed against Rachel. Pushed into her, vanishing inside her body. Rachel stretched, her eyes closing in brief pleasure at the Phoenix's touch. She stood. Walked over to Nathaniel.
Rachel put her hands on his chest. She stood close. Far too close. Rachel tilted her head back. She looked up at him, her breath a little faster now.
"I miss you."
Nathaniel knew he should push her away. This wasn't real, it was a dream. But her words--I think I need you--they did something to him. Fed into that dark, obsessive thing that was his love for her. Nathaniel had never thought much, about if she loved him or not. About if he wanted her to. But oh, he wanted her to need him. To need what he could give her.
"I miss you, too." He looked down at her. He was breathing hard. His hands, seeming of their own volition, went to her waist. He didn't pull her closer, but he wanted to. "I am sorry. For frightening you, that night, in the hallway." His fingers tightened just a little, on her waist.
Rachel pushed, very slightly, at his chest. "I know," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, too. I was rotten to you. I was rotten to everyone, really." Rachel's fingers tightened on his shirt. The fabric bunched beneath her fingers. Rachel laughed, a little breathlessly. "This is us dreaming. So who put in the texture of your shirt, I want to know?"
"You were rotten to you," he said, his tone faintly lecturing. "That was the hardest to watch." He thought about her question. "The Phoenix, perhaps? It seems to be controlling quite a lot of this." He pulled her closer, just a little. "Rachel. If you do not move away from me, I cannot guarantee I shan't--" he blinked. "Ah. I cannot--"
Nathaniel was rarely at a loss for words. She smelled good, Rachel. And her body was warm. Soft. He remembered how she felt beneath his hands, his mouth. His body. He couldn't quite think.
Rachel leaned against him, trapping her hands between their bodies. She ducked her head, pressing her cheek against his chest. "You smell like you, even," she whispered. Rachel slid her hands across his chest and stomach, slowly. "I want to wake up next to you," she said. "And I'm going to have breakfast with Emma instead."
Nathaniel looked up at the ceiling--such as it was--and tried to count to ten. Tried to think of mathematical formulas. Something. "Then come back to me. You know where to find me. Come back, and we shall wake up together." After I spend the evening showing you why you should never have left me. He wondered if she head that. She probably did. He put his hands on her shoulders, to push her away.
That's not what he did.
He tipped her face up, and leaned down. He kissed her, hot and urgent, and pulled her body hard against his.
*Stop me, if you want. I'll let you go.*
Rachel let the Phoenix spill out of her eyes and pushed Nathaniel back. "Stop, please," she said. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide. "I want this very much. But I think -- I think I'm not ready. And now, here -- don't you want to be awake, when we do this?" She pulled the Phoenix back in. Just Rachel.
"I don't want to stop you, really. And --" She looked at him. Looked at his blank, red stare. " -- and I don't want you to let me go. I think you'll see me soon. Sooner than I thought, anyway." She wanted, very much, for him to hurt her. Kiss her, shake her, make her feel right again. Inside her mind the Phoenix watched, listening. I know, Rachel told it. But not like this. No more lying and hiding him. I have to tell them I'm leaving. I have to walk away, not sneak around. The Phoenix grumbled and subsided. "I have to tell them first. Or, at least, I have to tell Jean."
"At this point, I want to do this so badly, I should be willing to do it in front of old blue lips himself," Nathaniel said, only half-joking. Suddenly, he moved forward, towards her. All he did was reach out and trace his fingers over her face, where he knew her hound markings to be. Nathaniel smiled at her. "When you come back to me, I promise you, Rachel. I shan't let you go."
He nodded, and dropped his hand, after tracing his fingers over her mouth briefly. "Tell them. I shall be there. Call to me, if you need me. I will come for you." He bowed, over her hand, and brushed his lips gently across the top of her palm. And then, he let her hand go, and stepped back.
Rachel shivered at his touch and smiled ruefully. "Goodnight, Nathaniel," she said. She turned to walk back the way she came, trusting that the Phoenix would untangle their sleeping minds. "I love you."
Nathaniel smiled at her retreating figure. Something eased and settled within him. It seemed Rachel, in order to love him, had to find her way back to him on her own. Hadn't Isobel said that? She'd be pleased to know she was right. "Goodnight, little one." Nathaniel wasn't sure if Rachel said she loved him because she meant it, or because she thought he wanted to hear it. Either way, it was nice to hear.
There was a dark voice, in his mind, that told him he didn't deserve it. Nathaniel knew that to be true. Before he could return her words, he was awake.
{{we are pleased}}
Nathaniel laughed. So am I. The presence was gone. It was time to wake up, it seemed. For once, he had slept through the night.