Only A Dream | Luke & Giselle
Luke wanders from room to room, searching for Giselle. It’s not one of his mother’s mansions that he’s in, it’s mission-related, so that means it’s a target’s home…and he can’t seem to remember how he got there. But he knows he isn’t alone. At least he shouldn’t be. Giselle came with him, he remembers that part. But where is she? He thought she was in the room next to him, but when he went to check on her, she wasn’t there. “Giselle?” It’s when his voice gets no response that he can feel the prickle of panic rising inside of him. Everything feels off about this mission. It’s not like Giselle to stay quiet like this. Unless…
Each room he passes is empty and the panic is rising in him like a tide. “Giselle?” Luke hates that he can hear it crashing in his voice, but this isn’t normal. And as much as he tries to tell himself he’s just overreacting, he knows he’s not.
The only room left is the kitchen and he knows Giselle would’ve had no reason to enter the room, not with how this mission was set up. But he heads towards it anyway, his feet seeming to move on their own accord. It’s in the doorway that he sees her dark hair against the white tiles of the floor and in that moment, the world is ripped out from under him. Her body is laying in a pool of blood, her arms and legs spilled around her as if she simply crumbled to the ground like an abandoned puppet.
“No, no, no—-!”
This can’t be happening.
Giselle just can’t get a good night’s sleep. No matter what she does—drinks, takes something, stays up for hours to tire herself out—she wakes up sweating and scared. Amazed she’s alive. Sometimes she goes downstairs for a drink of water. Sometimes she sneaks outside for some air, staring at the stars. But sometimes... sometimes she has to see him.
She creeps down the hall, one of his sweaters pulled around her shoulders. She’s been stealing his clothes for years, he’s well aware of it. It’s a comfort as well as something comfortable. She slips her arms into the long sleeves as she walks, being especially quiet outside of Lily and Mark’s rooms. She stops outside his door, staring at the white paint. She always hesitates. What if he hears her? What if he’s not even asleep? She’d never be able to explain to him. He’d tease her. She could take it. But it’s not what she wants from him. Not even close.
She reaches for the door, and something reaches her ears. She holds her breath, waiting to hear it again. Is he awake? A long, long moment passes. And she hears it again. “Giselle.” Her heart hammers in her chest. Does he need her? Why else would he be calling her? She can’t leave his calls unanswered. So she opens the door. He’s got his back to her, and his body twitches under the sheets. She steps closer. He’s still asleep, muttering to himself, her name continuing to escape him. He sounds scared. Is he... is he having a nightmare?
Carefully, carefully, she sits behind him, pulling her legs into the bed. She rests a hand on his bare shoulder, trails her fingers down his arm. He’s warm. Too warm. Her other hand goes to his damp hair, brushing through it soothingly. “Shhhh, mon cher,” she whispers, pushing his hair from his face. “I’m here. It’s all right.” There’s not much else she can say. She just hopes it helps.
