bigapplesauce | Perchance to Dream [CLOSED]

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Perchance to Dream [CLOSED]

Peeta's dreams are a confusing mix of reality and past nightmares, the line between his old life and his new one smudged into obscurity by his subconscious. He's in the jungle, then he's in Central Park, wearing the uniform of the arena or the first clothes he received when he arrived in New York. The details merge together in an unsettling manner, but he's always running, running to save Daine.

The trees, an unnatural mixture of hardwood and jungle vine, whip past him as he goes, the air that tears through his lungs tasting of salt and stagnant water and cotton candy. One minute he can see Daine - foot poised over ground he know will not hold her, now with her back to a shadow that wears the face of a man - the next she is obscured from view by the neverending trees. No matter how hard he runs she is always the same distance away, close enough for him to see every detail of her expression as she sinks into the earth or struggles against an assailant he knows he could not stop.

Only when it is too late does the nightmare let him reach Daine's side. In his mind, he both struggles to drag her from the unyielding soil and stumbles to a halt beside her lifeless body, the monster disappeared from the scene of its crime.

His body jerks him awake as if it had physically thrown him from the dream. He lies flat on his back in bed, panting, head swimming with images that he can't quite match up with the emotions raging inside him. All he knows is that he needs to see Daine.

Flinging back the covers, he quickly crosses the room and heads out into the corridor. He doesn't slow down until he reaches Daine's hallway, the trek there having given him time to calm down from his initial post-nightmare high. His last few steps to Daine's door are hesitant, but his hand raises of its own accord to knock before he stops himself. It was just a nightmare, Peeta, he tells himself. Pull it together. It isn't like this doesn't happen all the time. You don't have to wake Daine up for this. With that thought in mind, he turns to go.

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Whatever dream Daine was having, it drifts apart under the insistent nudging of Molly's nose beneath her chin. The girl twitches awake with a little snort of surprise, then squints in bleary confusion at the faint gleam of the dog's eyes in the darkness. Before she can ask, Molly explains, Peeta's outside. He smells upset.

Daine pushes herself up onto her elbows, glancing at the bedside clock to confirm she hasn't overslept (not even close; it's hours before she'd normally be up), then over to the door, where Sarge is standing and snuffling at the air. Has something happened? She'd like to think she'd hear it from the People, first, if something had.

And if there is something wrong, why isn't Peeta knocking? So it can't be a base-wide emergency or somesuch. It's just Peeta. Peeta, upset and outside and not even bothering to knock, which is both worrisome and sort of annoying. Things have been much easier between them since all that horribleness before, and she doesn't like the thought of him deliberately not talking to her. Even if it is late.

After kicking off her bedsheets, Daine pads over to the door, making a half-hearted and mostly useless attempt to scrape her hair out of her face. She pulls the door open and peeks out in time to see Peeta's retreat, and she frowns at his back in confusion and mild reproach. "Peeta," she says, her voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong?"

Peeta manages not to cringe at the sound of Daine's voice, more because the ridiculous twinge of relief he feels at hearing it temporarily drowns out his embarrassment than anything else. The embarrassment swiftly reasserts its control, though, and his pivot back to face her is slightly slower than it might otherwise have been as he mentally scrambles to come up with an excuse for his late-night intrusion.

The details of his nightmare are fading rapidly into a confused amalgam of images and sensations that he can't confidently separate into dream versus reality. And while the emotions the dream dredged up are settling again, they are doing so at a slower pace. As a result, there is a hint of that same relief in his eyes when he looks at Daine, overshadowed as it is by a sheen of awkwardness and guilt as he takes in her sleepy state.

"N-nothing," he replies, clearing his own throat with a mild cough that sounds overly loud in the quiet corridor. "Everything's fine." He catches Sarge peering at him from Daine's side and would swear from the dog's expression that he knows Peeta's a liar. "I'm sorry I woke you," he continues, returning his gaze to Daine's. "I... couldn't sleep and thought I'd walk around for a while."

It sounds like a lame excuse to his ears - what, did he come to wake Daine up so she could walk with him? - but it's the best he could come up with on short notice. He starts to shove his hands in his pockets, only to remember that his pajama bottoms don't have any.

Everything is certainly not fine; that's just plain nonsense. Daine raises an eyebrow at his attempted explanation, though there's genuine concern beneath her skepticism. It's not - so far as she knows - normal for Peeta to wander about the base in the small hours, and it's definitely not normal for him to linger around her door. The dogs would've told her about it if it had happened before.

"You don't smell fine," she says bluntly. A few seconds drag by before she realizes how terrible that must have sounded, and she starts a little, embarrassed. "I mean--the dogs said you smelled upset; they have such good noses, is all. You don't smell bad or anything, to them or to me. I can't smell you at all from over here." Goddess, this is embarrassing. Even Sarge is cringing. Daine allows herself a appalled groan, hiding her face in her hands for a moment. Ridiculous. And beside the point, which is that something is obviously going on with Peeta.

She drops her hands with a brisk sigh. Let's try this again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Unsurprisingly, Daine doesn't buy his explanation. Peeta's all set for a quick and embarrassed retreat when Daine mentions his smell. He blinks in surprise, realizing what she means at about the same time as she begins to clarify.

Her stumbling explanation is amusing, though, and Peeta smiles gently, distracted for the moment from the reason why he is outside her door. His smile widens slightly at her groan, but swiftly fades when she asks if he wants to talk.

Do I want to talk about watching you die in my dreams over and over again? he thinks bitterly. As much as it would be nice to be able to talk to someone about it - especially Daine, who understands better than anyone else could - it also doesn't feel right to burden her with something she shouldn't have to worry about. He hesitates, gaze sliding away from Daine's.

"Bad dreams," he finally offers, feeling both relief and guilt at the confession.

… Ah. Daine nods slowly. It's not the least bit surprising, considering all that Peeta's been through both before and after coming through the rift - and considering what the rift tends to do to folks' dreams. She's had her fair share of nightmares, too. Some of them were bad enough to almost send her to Peeta's door - the ones where that monster was bearing down on Edgar, but Edgar didn't stay Edgar - but having the dogs and Shadow was comfort enough to keep her from pestering him.

But Peeta doesn't have the friendly, warm presence of a dog or two to comfort him when he starts awake in the small hours. It's just him, alone. No wonder he's here.

"I get them, too," she murmurs, silently encouraging Sarge to go say hello. The dog doesn't need much prompting to amble up to Peeta, tail wagging. Molly ends up taking his place in the doorway, leaning against Daine's leg. "The rift probably doesn't help."

She studies Peeta for a moment, then ventures, "D'you want some company? We could walk with you." If he wants to talk about his dreams, he can. Or, they could just walk around a bit until he's calmer. She's awake enough now that there's little point in going right back to bed, anyway.

Peeta catches Daine's nod from the corner of his eye but doesn't look around until she admits to her own nightmares. He studies her for a moment, sympathetic and understanding. They both have enough nightmare fuel for several people; it's more surprising that they don't always have nightmares than it is for them to ever find themselves awake in the night.

When Sarge trots over to him, Peeta welcomes him with an ear ruffle. His mouth quirks at the idea of the rift being involved in his dreams - the rift may be the reason he has more to dream about, but it doesn't need to go through the effort of actually affecting his sleep. He does that very well all on his own.

When Daine offers to walk with him, Peeta feels another twinge of guilt. But Daine no longer looks sleepy, and Sarge wags his tail, glancing up at Peeta with an expression he can't read. "That'd be nice," he says, giving Sarge's head a stroke.

Daine smiles and steps out into the hall, softly shutting the door behind her. Molly gives herself a brisk little shake, then trots over to Peeta and rears up to plant her forepaws on his leg, hoping for some ear ruffles of her own.

"We don't mind," Daine assures Peeta as Sarge prances a cheerful figure eight around them both. "The dogs like being off-leash." And that's easier to arrange when the halls are less crowded. Daine holds up a finger as something occurs to her, then ducks back into her room to grab a pair of tennis balls. She hands one to Peeta and grins. "Here. If we find someplace out of the way, we can play..." she glances at the dogs, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and spells, "… f-e-t-c-h."

Peeta smiles at Molly's hello, obligingly giving her ears a ruffle in return. "Hey, girl," he says softly.

At Daine's reassurance, he nods. He's sure the dogs don't mind wandering around, and he's convinced now that Daine isn't bothered by his late-night intrusion either. When Daine brings out the balls, his grin matches hers. "Ah, right, that," he agrees, giving her a wink before schooling his face into neutrality when he looks back down at Molly.

"Shall we, then?"

See, a little time with the dogs is already doing him good. Daine can't help wondering if he'd be open to having a dog all the time. She sort of figured he'd have asked by now if he was truly interested, but from what stories he's told her of his realm, it seems cooperation between two-leggers and animals wasn't so common - at least in his district. Maybe it just hasn't occurred to him that he could have a pet of some sort. But he's so good with Sarge and Molly, it's not as if he wouldn't know what to do with one.

Well, she can bring it up later, maybe. For now, she leads the way towards the less populated areas, where even an excited bark or two won't bother anyone. She doesn't want to lead Peeta too close to Yuri's cage, but that little corridor is so far out of the way that they can stop well short of it while still leaving any sleeping two-leggers behind.

The only downside to wandering off the beaten path is that the lighting gets a bit poor. It's not a problem for Daine or the dogs, but she's not sure Peeta wants to just sit in the dark. She ends up pausing by a sparsely-lit side corridor that branches off the decently-lit one they'd been strolling down, and nodding down it. "What about this? It's not too dark, and I don't think anyone'll hear us. We could just sit up here and chuck the balls down that way."

Sarge, knowing full well what 'chuck' and 'ball' mean when said so close together, perks his ears up and dances a little ways down the hall with a faint woof of encouragement.

Being around Sarge and Molly has always had a positive effect on Peeta, even if he's never really thought about it before. He got along with animals back in Panem - the normal ones, anyway - but he never had a connection with any of them, and certainly nothing like what Daine has. And while pets weren't unheard of, there weren't all that common, either. Everyone in the district earned their keep, including the animals. It was hard to get too fond of something you planned to eat later. And in New York - well, it never occurred to him.

When Daine gestures to the empty hallway - well, the equally empty, slightly darker hallway - he nods his assent. "This is fine with me." Daine would be right that he doesn't want to sit in the dark, but at this time of night, he appreciates the lower lighting of the hall she's chosen.

He lets out a huff of laughter at Sarge's enthusiasm. "I think Sarge likes it, too."

"They're not picky," Daine says with a grin. And this hallway isn't so little-traveled to be a danger, with loose bricks or broken glass or anything unpleasant like that. Even the rats are giving them a wide berth, as much because of the dogs as her.

She passes Peeta a tennis ball, eyebrows raised. "Want to do the honors?"

Peeta takes the ball with a smile. "Delighted."

He gives it a teasing waggle in Sarge's direction before lobbing it down the hall with enough force to give Sarge a good run, but not so much that it disappears into the gloom. Sarge scuttles down the hallway to retrieve the ball, then trots back looking very pleased with himself.

Peeta gives Sarge's ears a congratulatory ruffle before gently taking the ball from his jaws for another throw.

Molly looks up at Daine expectantly, and she obliges by bouncing her tennis ball down the hall, giving the little terrier the chance to leap for it. It's more exercise than either dog would normally be getting at this hour, but animals are flexible, and they can nap during the day if it comes down to it.

After a few throws, she glances over at Peeta. He seems more relaxed than before, and she's not sure if she should leave him be, letting him enjoy himself, or if she should press about the nightmares a little. It's not an uncommon thing back home, with so many folk seeing war and other horrors courtesy of all the immortals that had come through. But it's also not the sort of thing folk should just struggle with alone. There are healers who'd help them, or at least folk to talk to about things. Daine's a bit spoiled in that regard. She's always got someone to talk to; she doesn't even have to leave her bed. Peeta's not so lucky.

"Do you want to talk about the nightmare?" she asks, keeping her voice low and gentle. "It's all right if you don't, but… sitting on it doesn't always help." She shrugs, then takes the tennis ball from Molly and bounces it down the hall again, this time aiming to have it ricochet off the wall.

Peeta falls into a rhythm - throw, retrieve, ear ruffle, throw - finding comfort in the repetition and the company. He's still tired, but has lost any interest in sleeping anymore for the night and the idea of just playing fetch with Sarge until it's time for him to report to the kitchens is more appealing than it really should be.

He isn't surprised when Daine asks about the nightmare, nor is he surprised by his willingness to talk about it. He's been here so many times before and knows from experience how true her words are. Still, he waits until after another throw and return before he speaks, knowing that what he has to say will impact Daine.

He stares at the ball in his hand for a moment, stroking Sarge's head for the short amount of time the dog can contain himself long enough to be still, then lobs it down the hall again.

"You died." He turns to look at Daine, but looks away again as Sarge returns. "It was like I was in Panem and here at the same time. There was that ground, from the dream," he explains, knowing she'll understand what he means, "but then there was Lucifer, too. You died, and I couldn't get to you in time."

It's not such a shock, not really - why else would he have felt the need to come to her door, in particular? - but reminders of the arena and of Lucifer still land heavy, and she gives an almost imperceptible wince, nothing more than faint pressure between her lips and a tightening around her eyes.

Memories of the arena are uncomfortable, and not just because she died there in a nightmare. It'd felt intrusive, like she was poking her nose into something that wasn't her business, and she wishes it hadn't happened, wishes - selfishly - that if his subconscious was going to put her there, it wouldn't be because she ever really was. It wasn't her fault or her choosing, but she still feels responsible for stumbling right into that quicksand like a fool, and not even being able to get herself out of it. She was defeated by dirt, and now they both have to relive it.

The Lucifer bit seems most unfair, though. Peeta had saved her, difficult as she'd made it for him; it's not right that he be plagued by nightmares where he didn't. She's the one who failed that day, not him.

"You die in my nightmares, sometimes," she says, after giving herself a few moments to steady herself and make sure her voice is even. She doesn't want to sound upset and make him regret telling her anything. "It starts out as Edgar, and then he changes to you." She glances at him sidelong, knowing he won't like hearing that, but he's been honest with her. There's no use in treating him as if he's made of spun glass.

She takes the ball from Molly, who gives her a concerned look, so she spares the dog a little thread of reassurance before lobbing the ball back down the hallway. Then, she turns to look at Peeta properly. "But you did save me. When it was real, and it mattered."

Daine's admission that she has nightmares about his death startles Peeta enough that he goes still, head snapping around to stare at her. It isn't something he would have expected and - despite his brushes with death - it surprises him. He feels like he has spent most of his life working to keep people alive, the universe seemingly inclined to put the people he cares about in danger. To be the object of worry is an unusual position for him.

When Daine mentions Edgar, Peeta winces and looks away. The reminder of Edgar is bad enough, the memory of what happened and his part in it. But knowing that Daine is still haunted by the loss, and that her dreams - whether the product of her own mind or the rift's meddling - are using him to add to her pain deepens his sorrow and frustration.

Sarge, cognizant of the mood, sits politely in front of Peeta with the ball in his mouth and patiently waits. Peeta takes a slow breath before facing Daine in turn. He did save her, even though she had fought against him. This time, he wants to say. Who knows what will happen in the future?

Peeta's evident surprise startles her in turn. Is it really such a shock for him? It might not be fair, for several reasons: it's not his fault he looks so much like Edgar, and it's selfish of her to be so afraid of losing him when the possibility of either of them going home still (literally) hangs over their heads. She wants that for herself, she can't begrudge him the same.

But Manhattan isn't the safest of places, and there are worse ways to lose folk. Little copper lights snuff out in her mind every day. The two-leggers she's befriended - they're the ones who're supposed to stay.

She can see her own worries and uncertainties reflected back at her in Peeta's expression. It's strangely reassuring. After a moment's hesitation, she takes his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "We're all right," she says, her voice low and steady.

Peeta gives Daine's hand a gentle squeeze. He thinks about the low odds of finding quicksand in the park. About how he hasn't seen or heard anything about Lucifer since he arrived, and how Daine seems unlikely to go looking for him, either.

He pointedly does not think about what else the rift might do, or what else New York might hold, or even the possibility (however remote it seems sometimes) of the rift sending them to their separate homes. Just like he always has, he'll take it one day at a time.

He gives Daine a small but genuine smile. "Yeah, we are."

Sarge, sensing that the moment has passed, drops his ball, which rolls into Peeta's foot.

"That's your cue, I s'pose," she says, glancing down at Sarge. A moment later, Molly's paws land on her leg, and she transfers her gaze to the terrier, who's clutching her ball in her mouth and wagging her tail hopefully. "And that's mine." She gives Peeta's hand a quick squeeze in return, then releases him and takes up the tennis ball, instead.

She lets a couple more cycles of throw and retrieve pass by before giving Peeta a thoughtful look. "You know, having the dogs around makes it easier for me to calm down after a bad dream. Have you ever thought about just keeping one?" After a beat, she adds, "And any one of the People could tell you I was all right, if you were worried."

Peeta has just tossed the ball when Daine speaks again, and he returns her thoughtful look. While he knows that he can use the People as a kind of gauge to Daine's well-being, he rarely has one nearby. But he doesn't quite understand Daine's proposition.

"Keep Sarge or Molly?" he asks, incredulous, turning to watch as the pair trot back to them. He's never considered having a dog of his own, and even if he had it would never have crossed his mind to take one of Daine's. Now that he thinks about it, though, it might be nice to have the company. Still, the idea of taking Sarge or Molly doesn't sit right with him, like he'd be taking away a member of Daine's family.

"I couldn't - they're yours." In as much as they chose Daine and she chose them back and they belong to each other. Another thought occurs to him as he ponders. "Unless you meant just keeping a dog?" he asks, turning to Daine. With her connection to the People, he's sure she knows of any number of strays that might be open to having a home (even a possibly temporary one).

Sarge and Molly both adore Peeta, and Daine doesn't think it would take much coaxing for her to convince one of them to stay with him for a bit - especially if she explained why. But if Peeta doesn't like the idea, she doesn't want to push it. Neither dog is a burden to her, and it'd hurt their feelings if they thought she wanted to see less of them.

More to the point, a new dog for Peeta would mean another stray off the streets. She certainly can't argue against that. In fact, she lights up at the thought, her mind already thinking of some of the dogs she knows who might do well with him.

"I'm sure we could find you someone," she says, an irrepressible smile tugging at her lips as she gives the tennis ball a gentler bounce. Molly's starting to lose a little steam. "We could go have a look as early as tomorrow - or, well, today - if you like."

Molly returns with the tennis ball, then flops to the floor and lets it rest between her paws. Daine crouches down to pet her, silently consulting with the dogs for a few moments as she does so. Then, she looks up at Peeta. "Sarge can stay with you tonight, too. He doesn't mind." The dog in question looks up at Peeta, tail wagging broadly. "He says there'd be more space on your bed," Daine adds with a wry smile, "though you don't have to let him up there. He'd do just as well on the floor."

Peeta can't help but smile at Daine's enthusiasm. He suspects her excitement is as much about finding a stray a home as it is finding him a companion, but he doesn't begrudge her that. Still, "Today?" It's sooner than he anticipated, but not surprising. He gives a little nod. "Whenever you have time works for me. You're busier than I am."

A faint thrill runs through him at the thought of having a dog of his own. As little as such a thing had been a part of his life in Panem, he's gotten used to the company of animals here in Manhattan. And having been around animals so much here has given the reality of pet ownership much more weight - particularly after time spent in Daine's company, which imparts an entirely unique point of view and level of communication with the People.

Peeta gives Sarge a smile as he trots up, pausing and cocking his head in Daine's direction when he hears his name. He drops the ball at Peeta's feet again, and Peeta picks it up but doesn't throw it this time. He just holds it in his hand, spinning it slowly with his thumb, thinking. From experience, he knows that he does better when there's someone there to wake him from his nightmares. Or at least to be there when he wakes himself. And while he had been ready to stay awake the rest of the night, there are only so many times he can do that in a week.

The memory of waking up in bed with the Daine and the dogs - and even Shadow - in a warm pile after a night of terror-filled dreams rises in him, and he drops to one knee to throw his arm around Sarge in a half-hug. "You can sleep on the bed," he tells him. "There's plenty of room."

Daine's smile widens into a grin, both in response to Peeta's enthusiasm (or at least his willingness to give in to hers) as far as getting a dog is concerned, and the warm welcome he gives Sarge. Sarge, for his part, is delighted; staying with Peeta will be an adventure for him, but not the bad sort of adventure where you're not sure what's happening next, the good kind where you get to stretch out on someone else's bed and maybe mooch some interesting food off of them (and Peeta always smells like food).

"I can text you after my morning rounds," she offers. "You're usually finished in the cafeteria by then, and I can use my rounds to find a really good match for you." It shouldn't be that difficult. Peeta's good with the dogs, and he's patient and kind. It'd be harder to find a dog that wouldn't get on well with him.

"Okay." Today. This morning. He's getting a dog. His mouth curves into a smile that almost matches Daine's for enthusiasm, but is tempered by a fluttering of nerves. He's going to be responsible for a dog.

With that thought in mind, he gives Sarge's ear a ruffle and stands, giving the ball one last toss.

"Will everyone be okay with me bringing another dog into the base?" he asks quietly. He's pretty sure no one will make a fuss; he takes care of himself well enough and contributes to the base, so it's obvious he's responsible and trustworthy. And most everyone knows he's friends with Daine. That alone should get him a pass.

"I expect so," Daine says, straightening as well. "They'd probably start raising eyebrows if I brought in another dog just for myself, but I don't think there's a limit on how many are allowed in the base proper."

After a beat, she adds, "And honestly, after that thing with the rabbits, I think another dog will seem like nothing. But I can double check before I leave." She doesn't think there'd be a problem either way, but she's sure the higher-ups would prefer it if she asked first.

The thought of Charcoal and Meringue makes Peeta smile. He hopes they're happy and safe, wherever the rift took them after their brief stay in Rift York.

"After the rabbits you could probably bring in half the strays you know and everyone would just shrug and go back to what they were doing." When Sarge saunters back up, panting, Peeta gives his head a rub. "Still, checking wouldn't hurt. At least let them know what's coming." That's the polite thing to do. From Peeta's encounters with anyone in charge, they seem to be an understanding group and he has no interest in hiding another resident from them - not that it's possible to hide a dog in the base.

Daine nods with feigned solemnity. "We could say it was a rift thing. Nothing anyone can do but find rooms for them." If she thought there was the slightest chance of them buying it, she'd almost be tempted to try. She drops the solemn air, though her smile is gentle. "I'll ask."

And then she's trying to bite back a grin, unable to suppress her excitement. It'll be wonderful to get another stray off the streets, and having a dog will be so good for Peeta. She'll get to help two of her friends in one fell swoop. She bounces on her heels once, then impulsively leans forward and throws her arms around him in a brief hug. "This'll be fun!" she promises before pulling back to beam at him. "And you know you can come to me with any questions or anything, and I'll help you."

Peeta quells his smile long enough to give Daine's proposal a sober nod, though a twinkle lingers in his eyes. The smile is back in full force by the time Daine envelops him in a quick embrace.

"Don't worry," he informs her in a teasing tone, "if I need anything, you'll definitely be the first to hear about it."

"Good," she says loftily, warm with lingering excitement about the dog and, beneath that, relief that they're back to teasing each other again. "I'd better be."

Molly lets out a rather pointed yawn, and Daine glances down at the dog with a faint, guilty smile. "I suppose we'd best be getting back to bed. D'you want to head back, too? Elsewise Sarge knows the way, if you wanted to keep walking."

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Perchance to Dream [CLOSED]

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