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He was having that dream again.
Again, and again, and again, he kept having that same dream.
The same awful, horrendous, terrifying dream that felt far too real to be just a dream, that he could never really seem to remember once he woke up.
The dream that started and ended with the death of someone he loved more than life itself.
Both times, by his own hands.
He dreamed of a cemetery, of a grave, of rain that seemed to chill and drench him down to the bone.
He dreamed of warm blood trailing endlessly, ceaselessly down his face. He dreamed through only one eye.
He dreamed of pain, of Artifacts, of Ragnarok, of the end of it all. He dreamed of a device that would let him do it all over, that could take him back to the beginning, before everything went wrong, so horribly wrong. A device that could repair the worst mistake he had ever made.
Except… he kept making those horrible mistakes, in the dream. He took life, and he took it, and he continued to take it. You’re violating the last request she made of you, he wanted to yell at the him in the dream. This isn’t what she wanted.
Even if you were able to see her again, she would hate everything you’ve become.
She would never forgive you for what you’ve done.
But the horrible mistakes didn’t end there. No, he continued to make them, each one worse than the last. He continued making them, again and again, until…
He took the life of the one person he had left.
The one person who had continued to stand next to the monstrosity that was him, that had continued to support and accept and love the thing that he had become, and he sent a blade through her.
He killed them both with a blade to the chest, one whose purpose to heal, one whose purpose to kill.
How much of his humanity had he lost to make a mistake like that a second time?
The rest of the dream is always blurry from that point on, barely comprehensible. It surprises him that the him in the dream is still capable of that many tears, of that sheer gut wrenching grief, after everything he’d done.
Things get very muddled and hard to follow, but he knows he dies at the end of this dream.
Good, he thinks.
And what a horrible thing to think.
The last thing he remembers is a gentle hand caressing his face as everything goes dark. A gentle, kind, loving hand, despite everything, despite him being the monster who had brought death to the three of them.
It’s an awful dream.
And it terrifies him to no end that he knows the him in the dream exists in his heart, in the depths of his soul. It terrifies him to know that he could become that someday.
But he knows, somehow, that the him in the dream had no choice but to continue on in the way that he had. He can’t find it in him to blame the him in the dream for everything he did.
He wakes from the dream.
—
Latla is woken abruptly by the sound of panicked, ragged breathing and a clammy hand desperately, blindly trying to find her in the darkness of their room.
She groans softly, rubbing her tired eyes with one hand and reaching out to grab Rip’s searching hand with the other. “Rip, you’re okay, I promise,” she whispered, voice hoarse from sleep. “It’s okay, Leila and I are both right here.”
This had been happening more and more frequently lately, ever since the ordeal with the Union began and the revelation of the world’s loop to them, of the true nature of the world at large. Rip always wakes from whatever nightmare he’s had, terrified, but not ever able to recall what it was he was dreaming about.
Latla knows the nightmare has something to do with losing her and Leila, because he’s always in a desperate panic to find the two of them after regaining consciousness.
She would be lying if she said she hadn’t had her own fair share of the same kind of dreams lately. She could never remember her dreams either, but she always woke up feeling unbearably sad, reaching her hand out to grasp something she could never obtain, that she could never catch up to.
She wonders how many tragedies the three of them had shared since time began, for their souls to ache the way that they did.
“L-Latla… Leila…”
Latla shushed him softly, finally sitting up to face him while still holding onto his hand. “It’s okay, Leila’s fine, she’s right over there, sleeping.” Her eyes finally adjusted enough for her to make out Rip’s face, softly illuminated by the moon’s rays shining through the window of their room.
Rip’s eyes are wide with terror, tears welling at the corners of them as he continues breathing quickly and raggedly, borderline hyperventilating. The hand that Latla was holding finally grasped back, almost unbearably tight. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
“Hey, hey, stop that,” Latla shushed quietly again, glancing over at Leila to see if she had been woken by the noise and movement. She made no indication she had been, thankfully, breathing remaining even and peaceful. “It’s okay, you’re okay, come here.”
Latla used her free hand to gently pull Rip’s head towards her, feeling him almost immediately collapse into her, head colliding with her shoulder as he fell forward. She gently combed her fingers through his hair, resting the side of her face against his head. “Everything’s just fine, I promise,” she whispered, holding him tighter as she felt him start to shake, heart aching at the quiet sobs.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he continued to repeat, tears soaking Latla’s nightshirt (it was one of Rip’s that she had borrowed (stolen) anyways, so she didn’t mind).
“Is it another nightmare?”
Latla blinked, turning her head slightly to look over at Leila who was indeed now awake, yawning and stretching her arms over her head. “Yeah. Was trying not to wake you, sorry sis.”
Leila shook her head. “I don’t mind.” She gave a sad look at Rip, crawling over to the two of them. “Oh love, you’re okay, everything’s okay,” she said, wrapping her arms around Rip’s midriff and resting her head against his back. “Please don’t cry, we’re all okay, we’re together.”
The three of them stayed like that for some time, Rip finally quieting and calming down. They remained like that, silent and unmoving, until he finally broke the silence.
“I’m blaming this all on those Union guys for putting weird things in my head,” Rip mumbled hoarsely, head still buried in Latla’s shoulder. “Still don’t even know what the hell I keep dreaming about. Sorry to keep waking you both up in the middle of the night, maybe I should start sleeping in a different room.”
“Oh, yea, that’s a great idea, we’ll just let you hyperventilate yourself into a coma in the middle of the night instead, why didn’t I think of that? Then I’ll finally be able to get my beauty sleep.”
“Latlaaaa I’m serious,” Rip groaned, still not moving. “Neither of you signed up for this, I don’t even know why it’s happening or if it’ll ever stop. I can handle it on my own-”
“But you don’t have to, love,” Leila cut him off, tightening her arms around him. “How many hours of sleep have you lost over me? At least let me do the same for you. Let me care and worry about you, okay?”
“But-”
“You don’t have to carry the weight of the entire world, stupid Rip,” Latla said, squeezing his hand. “How many times are you gonna make me have to beg to share your burden, huh? It’s embarrassing enough that I’ve had to do that even once. A weight is much lighter split three ways, don’t you think?”
Or an Artifact, split two. Latla glanced across the room at the golden prosthetics that sat against the wall, not currently in use. She smiled slightly, as always feeling a bit odd to be so happy over now missing a leg. But it was a physical representation of a bond, of a burden she’d finally been given the chance to help lessen, and she’s never going to regret her decision to do so.
“I really… don’t deserve either of you, I really don’t.”
“Ah, sure you do. And it’s till death do we part, remember? In sickness or in health yada yada, all that corny stuff we promised. If you didn’t want that you shouldn’t have dragged me to the altar in the first place, idiot,” Latla said fondly, brushing her thumb over Rip’s hand. “Now it’s too late, you’re stuck with me.”
Rip laughed softly at that, Leila joining him. “Yea, what sis said. And don’t you think it’s a bit silly to ask me to give up on you when you never gave up on me, ever? Cause I definitely think that’s silly, Rip.”
Rip laughed again. “Yeah, you’re right. Both of you. Sorry for the dramatics, won’t happen again.”
“Dramatic is all you are,” Latla retorted, ruffling his hair. “But that’s okay, we knew what we were getting into. We’ve been together this long, after all.”
Rip made a noise of agreement. “And I want it to stay that way, forever.”
“Mhm! Forever and ever!” Leila agreed, nodding her head.
They stayed like that for another few moments, in comfortable silence. Latla yawned, feeling drowsiness start to creep back up on her. “Alright, back to sleep everyone. I wanna get at least a few more hours tonight.”
The three of them slowly detangled themselves, Rip and Leila looking like they were both just as ready to go back to sleep as she was. Rip especially, exhaustion clear as day in his red, puffy eyes.
Despite this, he paused before laying back down, looking back and forth between Latla and Leila. He opened his mouth to say something, before closing it again, an apprehensive look on his face.
“Yes, Rip,” Latla answered, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask. “As many times as we need to. We’ll be here.”
A look of relief crossed his face, and he smiled gently at her. He finally laid back down, between the two of them. Sleep quickly found him, a peaceful expression taking his features. Leila was quick to follow, falling asleep not much longer after him, her arms finding their way back around him and nuzzling her face into his back.
As soon as the other two were settled, Latla finally laid herself next to Rip so they were face to face, smiling softly as she gently brushed her hand over his cheek. She leaned forward, placing a small kiss to the side of his mouth. She got the strangest sense she’s done this before, in a different time, in a different place, under much different circumstances.
“Good night, Rip.”
But this time, they’re going to get the happy ending. She’s sure of it.