I'm here Reg. I'm here.
And I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you that it's not enough.
James starts having nightmares again. He's not sure why. It's been almost a year, and it's not like anything has happened. At least not to him. They're different than they were before. Regulus is always standing alone in the dark. Not because it's nighttime, or because someone has turned out the lights, but because there's nothing else. No walls or floors. No sky, no earth. Everything is black and he's just sort of...there. Alone. Afraid. James calls out to him but he doesn't hear. Reaches for him but he doesn't feel. And honestly, that's scary enough. To watch the terror growing in his eyes and not being able to do anything about it. The dreams could end there and James would still wake up in a cold sweat.
They don't end there though.
At some point, while James grows more hysterical in his attempts to get to Regulus—to get Regulus to even just look at him—hands start reaching out of the dark. If they belong to bodies James never sees them. Just hands. They grab hold of Regulus's ankles, his calves, his wrists. And Regulus starts screaming. Begging. James. James. James. His voice splits open, it cracks itself in two calling out for him.
I'm here Reg. I'm here.
And I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you that it's not enough.
James sits up, breathing heavy, sheets damp with sweat. He's shaking, biting down on his tongue to keep back whatever it is that's stuck in his throat. A sob. A scream. His supper. He cast a silencing charm over his bed before he went to sleep, does it every night. He can only imagine the things he's yelling.
It takes a few minutes but he starts to settle, breath slowly evening out. It's late but not nearly late enough, still another three hours before he can justify getting ready for Quidditch practice. That being said, there's no way in hell he's going back to sleep. After a few seconds of indecision he throws his blankets off, pulling himself out of bed.
If he's going to be awake he might as well be useful. He grabs the Charms essay he'd been working on and slips out of the dormitory, trying not to resent the fact that Remus is clearly no longer sleeping in his own bed. Grumbling to himself he trudges down to the common room.
"Someone's up late."
His head snaps up as he reaches the last step, finding a pair of sparkling brown eyes staring back at him.
"What the hell?" is all his half-asleep brain seems able to come up with.
Mary cocks her brow. "And good evening to you too." She's curled up in the corner of the couch, a pink housecoat James has never seen her wear before wrapped around her, face washed clean of make up, leaving her looking incredibly young.
"Sorry," James brings his free hand up to scrub his face. "Still a bit out of it."
Mary nods, eyes drifting towards the fire. "Tell me about it." A long moment of awkward silence passes before she rolls her eyes. "Well, are you gonna sit or are you going to keep standing there?"
James snaps awake. "Oh—yeah—er—right."
He drops his coursework on the coffee table and collapses next to Mary on the couch, sighing as he sinks down, head falling back so he ends up staring at the ceiling.
"That was a big sigh," Mary says.
James smiles dryly, rolling his head towards her. "No one gets up in the middle of the night for a little sigh."
