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When the nightmares first came in Paris, she reached out for him in the twilight between awareness and slumber, struggling upward and barely biting back his name: Blue. The slow dawning of how absolutely alone both she and the boy (man?) beside her were in this place, in this time, hit with a sudden ferocity that stole her breath away, left her thinking that one name, envisioning that one face, feeling a mixture of relief and fear. Blue taught her how to overcome her nightmares, while granting her yet another dear to her heart: the fear of his slipping beyond the grasp of life into a darkness she wasn't ready to follow him into, more absolute and damning than the dark she sat in then.

She reaches for red hair, resting a palm on a sleeping head, and fights back the tears she refuses to let fall. "Wait for me." Be there when she returns from this, and take her flying one more time, and one more after that, and once more yet again, until the once mores run out and all that's left is the thought, a name, and a ache in a heart -- hers or his would remain to see.