Conversations With Dead People

[trigger_man]

 When Jack closes his eyes, he’s surrounded by the familiar environs of his room in Milliways, curled in his bed as a few rays of moonlight slant through chinks in the blinds.

When he opens them, it’s to a room which is nearly as dim, just as familiar, but nowhere near as comfortable. Concrete walls, blue lighting embedded in the walls, a one-way mirror dominating one wall.

It’s a room he’s seen so many times in his dreams--his nightmares--but this feels so much more real than it ever has before. The walls close in, the air feels oppressive, like a weight on his chest.

The dreams never go anywhere good from here.

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[beltwayheroine.livejournal.com]

She knows this room.

She remembers how cold the steel-topped table is to the touch, and the feel of rough concrete at her back.

(She remembers Jack's anger, and bearing the brunt of questions that rang like bullets in her eardrums. And more than that, she remembers being held here without him, an IV in her arm and fire in her veins, sweating and shaking.)

She doesn't like this room, but it's better than the one she left.

(It's safer — this much, she knows. Cheng isn't here; she's not bound to a hospital bed; she's wearing her own clothes.)

She approaches Jack, half a smile curving her lips.

(She's safe, mobile and coherent.)

"Jack."