"A body was found on the east river early this morning. A minor, age twelve, was discovered by a pair of joggers..."

That was it. A shot of the frost covered ground, the rushing depths of that disturbingly familiar riverbank... And nothing more. No other information would be released. There would be an investigation, but all signs pointed to suicide.

She shook her head, angry suddenly as the tears welled in her eyes. Why had it happened? It had been hopeless, there was no way she could have saved him. A cruel joke, a tease, a torment. In that cold, in that current, she'd died trying to save him. What was the point in that?

What kind of lesson could she learn by watching a boy die, knowing that she'd awaken alive? She choked back a sob and dropped the remote, curling in on herself.

She'd been like him once. Now she rescued others like him. It was her salvation. It made her whole — until moments like this. This threatened to undo her entirely. She felt herself sinking, wallowing. She'd been alone once, a desperate and haunted teen. The torment of her youth, she'd managed to push down, to ignore, to kill... yet this... this boy. This experience, this dreamwalk brought it all rushing back.

There was a hand on her shoulder, warm, firm. "Ellette." His voice was soft, concerned. She came back to herself, and stared up at him from her balled up position on the couch.

"Rand," she choked. "What was the point?" She blinked, straightening. "This wasn't a nightmare. The newscast confirmed it just moments ago... They found a body," she explained, her voice flat, struggling against the numbing feel of the depression climbing within her.

Rand settled down next to her, and picked up the remote, flicking off the noisy TV. With a flick, he tossed it into the couch cushions and took her hand. She couldn’t help but stare down at the stark contrast of the alabaster perfection of her own hand, cradled in his own dark, disfigured fingers. She took a deep breath. Those hands, the damage done to them, reminded her in no uncertain way, that though she knew of pain, he knew of it in his own way.

“Perhaps there is no point.” His voice was low, consoling. “Sometimes, things just happen.” There was so much more behind those words, emotion, things not said. She and Rand had shared the same tiny apartment for some months now, but still, they kept their secrets, the intimate details of their pasts, their scars, to themselves.

“There was no saving that boy.” She sighed, calmed simply by his presence. “Usually, there’s some chance...” She sat, shoulders hunched, clinging to warmth from that hand, her solitary link to another person.

“You have a gift, Ellette.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But I think you can only do so much.” There was a catch in that statement. The words clearly meant something to him as well, more than just a pleasantry to sooth her.

She looked to him then, finally raising her gaze to his face. His eyes were moist, and her voice caught in her throat. “Rand. What is it?”

He shook his head, shaking off the emotion, releasing her hand, and moving to stand. “You should rest. The dreams won’t come again for some time, right?” His tone was matter of fact. He was only comforting her, that was all. The change of subject settled it. There would be no broaching the subject of his own internal struggle.

She nodded and curled up on the couch. “The moon calls me to walk,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Not ‘till tonight, I think,” she spoke again, for his ears this time.

Rand went to the ancient stereo, the familiar chunky click of the old cassette player made her smile. She knew what would follow. The flute music she enjoyed so much filled the room, despite the state of the battered old speakers. If anything, their tendency to sound tinny and off only comforted her further. This was what home sounded like. She drifted off before she’d even realized she’d been exhausted enough to sleep.