tw3_ianto_jones: (afraid)
Ianto Jones ([personal profile] tw3_ianto_jones) wrote in [personal profile] iwasmore 2015-12-28 03:41 am (UTC)

The dreams feel so real, like they're something that really happened to him, a suppressed memory. Ianto's had these nightmares several times since he's been in Darrow. Sometimes they're the same as they were before, girls he doesn't remember, faces that are too clear to be unreal, and sometimes, now, they're people from here, Molly, Nikita, Demelza, sometimes even men, people he won't name, even in his own head.

Tonight he sees one of the unnamed women from before. She's walking alone in the rain, hurrying under her umbrella. He's walking behind her, quiet, trench coat pulled up around his face. She stops beneath a street light, glancing behind her, and he steps into the shadows, creeping up until he's close enough to strike.

He catches her from behind and she screams, dropping her umbrella. He drive her back against the wet brick, his fingers squeezing around her throat, and she gasps, clawing at his arms uselessly. Her eyes are wide, begging him to stop, but he won't, he never does, watching her face as the skin goes blue, her lips pale. She's dying beneath his touch, and he watches, unable to stop himself, his heart pounding in his chest.

And then someone's touching him, a hand on his forehead, and he gasps and he comes awake suddenly. He's forgotten where he is, his eye wide and wild, and he looks up, seeing someone sitting at his bedside, not quite there, like an apparition.

"Wh-wha, who?" he asks, panicking a little, his breath rushing out of him.

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