Awareness came slowly, subtly. She could feel her toes, cold in their boots. Her butt was slightly damp from the cold, solid, ground on which she sat. Her left ear and cheek were particularly icy from the wind tugging at her hair. Strangely enough, her right side was comfortably warm. She moved her fingers. They were oddly constricted, and wrapped in warmth as well... no, she was holding a hand. Realization hit her abruptly.

“No. No. No...” she muttered and turn slowly, hoping she was wrong.

A solid, male figure sat beside her, his shoulders hunched forward, head hung with his thick mass of hair obscuring his face. It didn’t matter, though. She didn’t need to see the face to know who it was. There was no mistaking that mop of hair.

She studied that hand that held hers, it was distinctly his. She knew every inch of those scarred, damaged fingers. She gave his hand a firm squeeze before looking around. It was comforting to have him here, despite the fact that he should not be.

It was an all too familiar setting. The moon’s glow filtered through the thick haze touched the landscape just enough to hint at their surroundings. They sat upon a frost kissed grassy knoll leading down to a black mass of water. That haunting, churning river of icy depths. She sighed, her breath a thick puff swirling out before her as she stared out over the landscape. Why would she be here again? Better yet, why would THEY be here? She wondered, shivering before turning back to Rand’s silent form.

He was stirring now, coming aware of his surroundings as she had. Watching him made her heart clench. Had she known she was capable of pulling him into the dreamwalk, she would have never taken the risk, never have let him stay by her through the night. His proximity, his concern for her had brought him into an unpredictable situation, and she cursed herself for it.

This was her duty, her challenge. She had been told she couldn’t die in a dreamwalk. Despite that fact, when she dreamwalked, all she experienced was real. Even if she awoke in her own bed as if it were only a dream, there were effects on the real world. Rand was undeniable proof that what she did in her dreams affected those whose lives she touched. It was proven again to her the previous night and many times before, that the physical effects of her dreamwalk carried on into her waking world.

Watching her friend awaken beside her on the other side of a dream, she felt a certain amount of sickening dread. She didn’t know how the rules, if there were any, would apply to him. She’d surely pulled him in thanks to their clasped hands. That had been their link. Would he awaken if she wasn’t touching him when the time came? Could he be trapped here, never to awake in his true form, his real body again?

She had never considered what could happen if she’d gotten stuck in a dreamwalk. Though she’d occasionally had reminders that her dreams were not natural, she’d never worried much over it. She’d always awoken the next morning, safely in her own body. Being disconnected from her body had never been an issue. She shuddered at the thought.

“Where are we?” The faintly raspy words brought her out of her reverie. Rand was calm, as always, dark brown eyes blinking over the scene before him. The misty puffs of his breath joined the fog swirling about them as he spoke.

She blinked back tears as she watched him take in the dark, mist-filled world they somehow had come to inhabit. He sat up straight, an almost bemused expression on his dark features. “You’re in black leather... head to toe.” He observed. “Like the first time we met.”

She glanced down at herself and rolled her eyes. “Yes, for some reason, my teen-aged biker aspirations still hold true in the dream world.”

His eyes widened, ever so slightly at that comment. “We’re in a dream?” he asked, his gaze sliding away from her to search out their seemingly surreal surroundings. “It’s a lot colder than I would have imagined,” he said, releasing her hand and rubbing his arms.

She climbed slowly to her feet. “Because it’s not a dream. Well, it is... but where we are is real, and so are we.” Surely he, of all people understood the strange dual reality of her dreams.

He stood as well, staring down at himself, his attire. “Strange,” he muttered. “I lost this sweater ages ago...” His tone was distinctly somber, and she wondered at the relevance of the clothing.

“It’s like the Matrix,” she said with a smirk, her attempt to lighten the mood. “Residual self-image or something.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Right,” he quipped as he dusted himself off. “And you know this because you often take others with you on these dreamwalks of yours?” He chuckled, but the sound died in his throat as he caught her stricken look.

“Rand, I’ve never...” She said, softly, betraying her anxiety. Her stomach twisted and she continued, her voice strained. “I don’t know what will happen to you here.”

He shrugged. “I’ll wake up. Like you do.” He stretched his shoulders, and caught her hand again, tugging her towards the river. “Let’s find out why we are here.” He urged, looking out over the churning waters, expectant.

She didn’t budge, only shook her head. “No,” her voice was faint. “Not the water again...” Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe, as the images from her daydreams washed over her. She couldn’t lose him. Not now, not for real.

He glanced up at her, where she stood uphill from him. “There’s a reason, right?” He glanced back out over the water. Something was going on behind his dark eyes, a reason for this conviction of his. She dreaded what he was pushing them towards, his clear determination to play out this dream. “Maybe this is your chance to save that boy.”

She shivered, shaking her head. “He’s dead,” she whispered.

It was his turn to look stricken. “What if you were given a second chance?” he tried again, his voice catching slightly. He turned abruptly, making his way towards the river. Ellette let out a protesting squeak, and ran to his side, grabbing his arm. If she couldn’t stop him, at least she could go with him.

Her heart was thundering painfully in her chest, the anxiety, the anticipation, overwhelming. “Rand,” she choked out, “he’s dead. I saw it on the news. This isn’t time trav-- ” her words were cut short by the all too familiar sound of splashing in the water before them. There he was. That fragile boy, struggling against the current.

Rand shot her an ‘I told you so’ look and began pulling off his sweater. He tossed it to her and began kicking off his shoes.

“You can’t do this!” She pleaded, holding his sweater to her chest, thick and warm. Her hands began to tremble at the thought of it being the last piece of him she might hold. “Please, Rand, I can’t do this again!” Her voice felt tight, raw in her throat as the terror took hold. It was one thing for her to risk her life, but now... now that she’d tried and failed time and time again. She couldn’t bear the thought.

He glanced back out at the water one more time before pulling off his jeans as well, already beginning to shiver in the frosty night air. “I have to do this.” He told her, not meeting her eye.

Steam rose from the bare flesh of his arms and torso, and she grit her teeth, remembering the freezing bite of that water.

“You said the dreams happen for a reason, right? I’m here for a reason.” He tossed her the jeans as well, and their eyes met briefly as he stood before her, shivering, clad in only boxer shorts. Her eyes already filling with tears, his were hard, strangely possessed and determined.

Ellette stood, stunned, holding a small pile of clothing as he tromped into the water. Warm trails trickled down her cheeks as she watched him, helpless, frozen. With a shake of her head, she dropped the small pile of clothing and began working her boots off.

Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Taking off heavy clothing before diving into the black, churning depths. She kept an eye on Rand as he waded deeper, finally diving in and stroking forcefully to the small figure of the boy.

She smiled sadly, realizing how much stronger of a swimmer he was than she. Maybe he would make it. He could succeed where she’d failed. Still, she kicked her boots off, and pulled her pants off, making her way to the water’s edge. She left her jacket on, dreading giving up that last bit of warmth. This last source of comfort she would discard very last. At the very least, she would help pull them to shore. At the most, she would go in after them, and if Rand were to fail...

She would fail with him.