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Helen's face looking at her from the other side of the bed is the most natural sight in the world. Carol smiles, and the expression is mirrored back at her, a perfect match. The two of them move in unison, practiced. Carol flipping onto her back, Helen rolling over to straddle her.
What do you want, Carol? Helen whispers, except it isn't Helen's voice, not really. What would make you happy right now?
Carol opens her mouth, brain scrambling to identify where she knows the voice from, if not from her wife.
Shh, Helen cuts her off before she can find an answer, a finger against her lip. Don't worry. We already know.
"We?" Carol croaks. "Who's we?"
Helen smiles. Carol furrows her brow. She tries to say Helen's name, but no sound leaves her mouth, and it feels like she's forgotten how. And then, she can't make any sound at all that isn't swallowed up by the mouth pressed against her own.
Carol's hands fumble to find purchase against Helen's back, unsure if she's attempting to push her away or pull her closer, closer.
Helen grabs one wrist, pins it against the mattress next to Carol's head. She repeats the motion with the other, until Carol is properly trapped. Their mouths don't seperate for a moment. Carol's chest heaves. She can't catch her breath. After a moment, she realizes that she no longer needs to. She moans into her lover's open mouth, surrendering.
She tries to reciprocate the kiss, to hook an ankle around the back of Helen's leg, to struggle a little against the restraint of her hands, but she finds she cannot move at all except to let her eyes fall closed. She feels like she's floating, disconnected from her body. It feels a little euphoric. Freeing. She lets it all wash over her.
Eventually, the pressure lifts from her mouth, and a feather-light kiss is planted against each of her eyelids. When the weight on top of her pulls back, Carol let's them flutter open. There is no feeling of surpise that runs through her body, no confusion settling over her brain, when it's Zosia's eyes she sees staring back at her. She already knew. She says: Welcome home, Carol, and smiles.
Carol wakes, aching, trying to catch her breath. She closes her eyes briefly, swallows, and tries to gauge whether or not she's going to throw up. She stares at the ceiling of her bedroom while her heart hammers away in her chest. Going back to sleep is definitely out of the question. She sighs and runs a hand down her face. Her mouth is dry.
She rolls out of bed and pulls on some clothes, whatever is at the front of her wardrobe, not bothering to check the time. It's still dark out. She stumbles through the house and into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, and when she walks back into the living room, she's startled by the sight of Zosia blinking out of sleep on the couch.
"Carol," she murmurs. She's still fully clothed in what she was wearing last night, when Carol had off-handedly told her she could stay, if she wanted. "You're up early. Are you okay?"
Carol stares, a little dumbfounded, a little afraid she's still dreaming. "You, uh..." she gestures at the woman on her couch. "You sleep?" It's not really a question. She supposes she should have asked before leaving her here to go to bed herself. Did she expect her to just sit around all night, doing nothing?
Zosia rubs sleep from her eyes and yawns, an action so deeply human that it makes Carol do a double take. "We do." Zosia smiles like it's cute that Carol hadn't considered this. "The human body needs rest to function at optimal capacity."
"Right." Carol stifles a yawn of her own. "Sure. But... how does that work? You don't do it all at once, surely? People all over the world don't suddenly go into sleep mode like a bunch of, fucking, uh, robots, when one of you decides to take a nap?"
"Of course not. Each individual body goes to sleep at a time that fits them. Depending on circadian rhythms, their existing sleep schedule, habits, and of course in which of the world's timezones they are currently located. Every body gets the approximate number of hours sleep necessary for them to function comfortably the following day, which varies from individual to individual. It is not so different from how it was. Only now, nobody is forced to have less than they need."
"Gotcha, so everything's fucking... great, perfect, utopian, everybody's happy," Carol says, already distracted. She glances at Zosia out of the corner of her eye. "So... Zosia is - was - a light sleeper, then?"
"Is, yes," she says, so softly it's almost a whisper. "She still is."
Carol coughs lightly into her fist. For a while they stay quiet, just looking at one another. Zosia seems anxious to break the silence, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Do you..." Carol beats her to it. "Do you dream?"
Zosia looks contemplative for a moment, the way she sometimes does that Carol thinks is probably just an act. Though she seems genuinely caught off guard by this question, like it isn't something she - they - had truly considered before, if that's even possible. She actually frowns, a confused little thing on her face. "We're..." she looks up at Carol. "We're not sure. If we do, we don't remember it."
"Huh." Carol raises her brows, almost a little impressed with herself. There's something they can't do. "Do you remember people's dreams from..." she gestures vaguely, "before?"
"Some. Not everybody dreamt, or recalled it when they did. And nobody ever really figured out how the whole process works. It's funny, isn't it? Decades of research, from people all over the world, and yet it's still mostly a mystery."
There are several questions Carol does not ask. But she thinks about them. Do you want to finally solve this mystery, now that you have all the time and people in the world? Do you wish you could still dream?
Zosia tilts her head and smiles, asks a question of her own. "Do you remember your dreams, Carol?"
Carol exhales sharply. Too well, lately, she does not say, but Zosia's face softens anyway, in something that looks like pity. Carol doesn't like it one bit.
"We know all of this has been very frightening for you, Carol. We're sorry if it has caused you any distress in your sleep."
Carol scowls. "Stop acting like you can read my mind. I'm fine."
Zosia leans closer, lowering her voice. "You know, if you are having nightmares, it can often help to talk to someone about them."
Not a chance in hell. Carol crosses her arms and turns her head away, stubborn. "Yeah, well, you're not my fucking therapist," she spits, suddenly very thankful that she never actually saw one. She snorts. "Hey, what ever happened to those patient confidentiality laws we used to have, huh?"
Zosia just fixes her with a look that says you already know the answer to that.
"Right, yeah, whatever," she waves a hand. "Secrets, privacy, who needs that shit?"
"Carol, we know it's-"
"Yes. I know, alright? I know you think of me as some... some child, who can't possibly comprehend what's 'best for me'," she does the air quotes derisively. "You think it's your duty to protect me from the world, or from- from myself, and my own fucking choices by- by-" Carol stops and takes a deep breath. Then she throws up her hands briefly in surrender, flashing Zosia a tight-lipped smile. "You know what? Nevermind. I'm going back to bed. Enjoy your dreamless rest."
Zosia speaks up as Carol steps into the doorway, sounding a little hesitant. "Carol. You know that if you wanted us to, we would-"
Carol glares at her over her shoulder. "Whatever you're about to suggest, don't." She exhales through her nose. "Look, you can stay there on the couch or you can go sleep wherever you normally do it. I don't care." A pause. "Or, you know, there's a guest room if you want an actual bed. You already know where it is."
With that, Carol leaves before Zosia can demand she make the choice for her.