just because she's on a mission...

Chapter 8

Peggy was dreaming of Russia.

She dreamed of a hot spring sun that broke apart the sparkling sheets of snow atop the mountains. She dreamed of the face of the mountains, dazzling against the blue sky, beginning to shift, and those great sheets of snow begin to thunder down toward her where she stood, halfway up its side. She stood immobile, the way one sometimes does in dreams (or nightmares) as the avalanche overtook her.

She didn't feel the cold, so much as the weight of it. It felt heavy, so heavy on her chest. She couldn't breathe. She gasped for air but there was none to be had, only snow and ice. She forced herself awake.

For a split second she thought she must still be dreaming, because her chest still felt heavy, and she still got nothing when she tried to pull in air. But no... This was her room, this was her bed... And this was, for lack of a better term, her lover, lying on top of her, eyes full of cold focus, staring half at her, and half through her, hands around her throat.

Peggy had no way of knowing how long Dottie had been choking her, but her grip was iron, and if Peggy didn't want this evening to end any worse than this, she had to get Dottie off of her, and quickly. She braced a foot against the wall, flipped them both off of the bed, and they landed on the floor with a loud thud. Bloody Nora, she thought as it struck the floor, not that elbow again.

They landed on their sides, facing each other, their hips bearing the brunt of the impact. Peggy grabbed Dottie's wrists, pulled her hands off of her neck and gasped for air. "Dottie!" she coughed, staring into her face, searching for signs of the woman who had fallen asleep in her arms a short time ago. She held onto Dottie's wrists, struggling to keep those strong hands from wrapping themselves around her throat again. She didn't want to use her training to subdue her, but she was running out of options.

Dottie's face suddenly changed; as if she were somehow waking up, and Peggy realized that in fact, that was indeed what was happening. Dottie's struggling slowed, then stopped; her eyes dropped to Peggy's grip around her wrists, then Peggy's face, then down to Peggy's neck, where, judging from how sore the skin felt, Peggy imagined there were some red marks.

"Peggy?"

"Dottie, what the bloody hell just happened?" Peggy demanded breathlessly, her heart still banging away inside her ribs.

A look of bewilderment, confusion, and then slow realization and horror dawned across Dottie's face as she realized what had happened. "Peggy... are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Peggy coughed a little. "Well, I've felt better." She looked at Dottie's face, ashamed and filled with urgency. "If I let go of your wrists, you won't try to kill me again, will you?"

Dottie shook her head. "No, Peggy. I promise." Peggy hesitated, then released Dottie's wrists.

They sat up, Peggy remaining tense and ready to defend herself, Dottie looking miserable and filled with panic. They sat together on the rug, a few seconds ticking by as they tried to unwind what to do next. Finally, Peggy spoke. "So, I suppose this is why you've been afraid to stay the night?"

Dottie looked away, seeming as if she very much wanted to be somewhere else. She nodded once.

Peggy looked at her for a moment, her chest still tight and her lungs still feeling grateful for the air in them. "You realize this puts a slight damper on this new stage of our relationship."

Dottie nodded again. She grabbed Peggy's hand. "Peggy, I don't want to hurt you... I was just... Having a nightmare."

"Must have been quite a nightmare. What was it?" Peggy was trying to keep it from sounding like an interrogation and not entirely succeeding.