Content/AllJustADream

It came to her in a dream.

It wasn't a particularly good dream. There were whales... or were they dolphins? Maybe something halfway between - Whalphins? Dales? Not sure. Her father was there. Claire too, of course. Claire was always there. And Dave, he was standing in front of her. As she stared at him, she felt... something. Anger? She felt like she was supposed to be angry at him, but she couldn't remember why.

He walked towards her, and as he did so, the dream began to coalesce. Sharpen. There was Dave now, more Dave than before. She hadn't noticed how indistinct he was until he wasn't any more. He stopped, and it was as if a camera had come into focus. The dream fell away and they were standing in his room - at least, it looked like his room, except that the light on the ceiling was bathing them in a soft, purple glow.

"Hey Belle", he said.

She remembered now - watching him twist and collapse, as if someone had let the air out of him. She shuddered, and the anger she felt came back, entwined with a myriad of other emotions - fear, sadness, and somewhere deep down, curiosity.

Dave winced. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, "I wasn't really expecting that to happen."

Helen opened her mouth to speak, and realised she didn't know what to say. She had a hundred questions and no idea where to start. She stared at him for a moment, only now noticing that he was wearing a fairly normal pair of jeans, rather than his signature pants. "Where are you?" she finally asked.

"Still working on that one." He looked around the room, and shrugged. "If it helps, I'm not, like, dead or anything."

It did help, though she didn't admit it. He smiled anyway. "Look," he said, "I don't mean to rush you, but we don't have long. I have something for you."

"What?"

He shrugged again. "Dunno. Why don't you have a feel around in my pocket and see what you can find?"

She gave him a look. He grinned at her in return. "Seriously, though." he said, and he held his pocket open for her.

She took a couple of steps forward and, hesitantly, put her hand in his pocket. It was cold. Her fingers brushed something, and she closed her hand around it. It was thin, but quite solid.

"Got it?" he asked, and she nodded in return. "Good. Now, pull." She pulled her hand back... and woke up.

She was lying in the dark, on her bed, in her room, breathing heavily. The pillow had been all but flattened, the sheets all gathered to one side, and there was something in her hand...?

With her other hand she fumbled around for a light. She found her phone and pressed the lock button, the dim glow of the screen casting a faint light across the bed. She held it up, and stared into her hand. Forethought's mask stared back at her.