Disclaimer: Not Mine!

It doesn't really make sense, but most of it is a dream, so I'm taking liberties.

It's the same dream, over and over. Same time, same place, same horror film going round my head. And I know that it's impossible – improbable. He's dead, and she was ten seats away, cowering, sobbing, but not faced with immediate death. But I keep having that dream.

It starts in the courtroom – on the day that gives everyone nightmares, I'm sure. Only this time, it isn't the guy from the club who gets sent to "death row" by Jeffers, its Chris. And she looks at me with this face that says she's given up – that she knows she's going to die. But I can't find words to tell her I won't let it happen. She sits in the corner, her face changing from blank, to terrified, to shocked, to sobbing uncontrollably.

Time moves in a blur – the way that time usually does, in dreams. Instead of Chris objecting, it's Rossi, but it does no good. I don't know why I'm on the stand, or what the questions he asks me mean. But I know that I am trying my best to save her life, to make her seem innocent. When the judge says "Not Guilty" I almost faint with relief – Chris isn't going to die. I still have time to tell her, and she isn't going to die.

That's when Frank Jeffers turns his gun and aims it right between her eyes. She is sobbing uncontrollably now, her body shaking in terror. We're all shouting, pleading, begging him not to do it. There is panic in our eyes. But I can't speak. I can only stand there, my hand outstretched, staring at the scene.

The phone rings and the gun drops. Chris lets out a shaky breath but she is still terrified. When the gun goes back to her head she doesn't look surprised. She sobs and cries out to me to help her, but I can't. I can't even move.

The gun cocks and everyone is cowering, averting their eyes because they don't want to see her get murdered. I don't. I stare into her eyes and she looks into mine. Maybe I imagine in but there seems to be a bit of blame in her eyes, like she knows I could have stopped it, but I didn't. And she's right – I don't know what I could have done, but I could have done something. My heart is racing and I know that it's just a dream. Chris can't die.

Then Jeffers pulls the trigger and a deafening sound fills the courtroom. The sound of my world, shattering.

That's when I wake up, panting, terrified, my mind still in the illogical sleep state. And I don't fall back asleep that night. And it's only when I see her in the mornings, smiling at me, or researching info for some case or another, that I can relax. And the moment she is out of my sight the dream comes back and all I can see is her terrified face. The face she made even when the gun wasn't pointing at her, but at a man she barely knew. The terror was real. That's what kills me.

And I know that it's illogical – that there is no way things would have turned out like that. That she wouldn't have died like that.

But even in the daylight, watching her out of the corner of my eye, there is a tiny little voice full of doubt in the back of my mind.

What if? it asks. Just what if?

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