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Wishful Thinking

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She wakes up with a scream caught in her throat and sweat beading on her skin, like usual. Her eyes are tightly shut, but even when she opens them she can still see red in her vision. Even as she stares wild-eyed at the wall across from her, images of the mangled, bloodied bodies of her friends remain in her mind's eye. May raises a shaking hand to her mouth to muffle the sobs. Barely a week has passed since that day at the UM, and night after night it's been the same thing. She hasn't gotten a good night's rest, not with the nightmares. And not with...

Beside her, Kent shifts in his sleep. He looks peaceful when he's asleep. He looks like the man she knew, the man she'd found herself starting to love. Sweet, peace-loving Kent who would do nothing to harm his friends. But that Kent's gone now. His other self, his berserker self, had claimed he'd squashed his peaceful side. "Gone forever," he'd assured her with a wicked smile.

But that can't be true. May doesn't want it to be true. Although the tears gathered in her eyes start spilling down her cheeks, she's able to get a reign on her breathing. She lowers her hand to rest gently on Kent's face, her fingers lightly pressed against his temple. He fidgets, but he doesn't wake. Sometimes, she imagines him waking up to look at her with those pretty blue eyes of his and giving her a smile that held nothing but love and kindness.

She lets her fingers stroke his skin, slowly, gently. Kent, the real Kent, had to be in there somewhere. Hiding, she thinks, pushed far, far back from the trauma of seeing his friends brutally murdered by his own hand (but it hadn't been his fault, not really). The event was still fresh, the moment too soon. Perhaps, one day, he'd come back to her.

May forces a smile that's shakier than her hand had been moments ago. She leans over Kent, fingers still gently caressing his face, and wonders what she can do to help him return. She won't leave him, she refuses to. His berserker side terrifies her, and she's certain he knows that. But he doesn't care, and neither does she (oh she cares, she cares so much). She can't allow herself to be chased away (not that he'd let her go).

The tears fall from her face to plop on Kent's as she lowers her head. She can see his eyes start to open, but she doesn't want to look into them. May presses her lips to his, more than aware of how she's beginning to tremble. Come back to me, she thinks desperately as she feels Kent's arms lazily circle her waist. Please, please, please. I'll wait for you. Come back to me.