Nightmare

Laura bids Katie goodnight, and after finishing her movie, she does some cleaning, then heads to bed herself.

Henry wanders down the hall, getting used to a second person in the apartment, and he nudges Katie's door open. After looking around the room, he hops up on her bed near her face and starts to purr.


Jason lies awake in bed, his eyes aimed toward the ceiling, but focusing on nothing. His mind has been in turmoil all day as guilt has crept into his conscience. He had been a jerk. He had messed up royally. Despite his agreement with why he had done some of the things he had, he had handled the situations poorly, resulting in him losing his friend...his best friend. But he couldn't keep dwelling on it. He had to pick himself up and move on, no matter what it took. Whether he liked it or not, he was here to do a job. He was here to help others, not himself. He was learning an awful lot about himself in the process, but in the end, he was here to protect innocent people and to help bring down a criminal racket. He'd done some things right, and he'd made some mistakes. But if he continued to dwell on them, he would be defeating his purpose...he'd be defeating himself. Just like JT had said...he needed to start fighting for himself and begin the forward momentum he needed to pull himself back up out of the rut he'd gotten himself stuck in. He was sorry about Katie...and he could admit now that he missed her. He missed talking with her...sharing with her... he missed knowing that he didn't need to tell her all - she instinctively knew it already. And knowing that she'd sent him that email...she'd opened the door back up... but Jason knew that right now, it would be best to simply leave that door alone. Maybe she was ready to patch things up, but if he reinserted himself into her life again right now, it might just make things harder for her...harder for them both...maybe they simply needed to let things go. It wasn't an easy call, but perhaps it's what should have happened, despite the rough way in which it did. They had been good friends...and it was better to have experienced that, than not having had it at all. Perhaps when Jason was ready, that door would still be open. But he had to learn how to move on first.
Jason rolls over, pulling his blanket up further to his shoulder. No...it was no longer about him...it was about the people around him. He had been selfish...no matter how right he had felt, or how much he could justify his actions, they had been born of selfishness and pride. Even his sudden trip to TJY...no matter if Carter had been testing him or not, after receiving the privilege of being allowed back on the team, he should have realized what he knew now. It wasn't about his rank, his position, or what his job was. It was about serving and doing his utmost best to fulfill his role. It was about them.


Luke wraps his arm around Angel and just holds her for several minutes, almost afraid to speak lest he break the moment in which he feels so much joy and peace. Finally though, he shifts his weight, reaching into his pocket. "Well...if that's really he way you feel..." He pauses. "I don't know what I did to be blessed with someone like you... You deserve a whole lot more than I could ever give...but maybe this will help." He takes her hand in his and gently slips a ring onto her finger, the dainty diamond twinkling delicately in the moonlight.


Cindy can't help giggling as Wes picks her up. Her cheeks grow red, but as she wraps her arm around Wes' neck to hang on, she ignores the funny stares from other people, not caring a bit what they think. Once back in the truck, she shrugs, still grinning. "I don't need anything...unless that late night ice cream place is yelling as loudly at you as it is to me."


Mick is so exhausted that he doesn't even wake as Rosetta situates him on the couch. Instead he rolls over on his side, burrowing further into the cushions.

Despite his body's tiredness though, his mind is racing with random thoughts, creating scenes and evoking buried emotions brought out through dreams. What starts out as a generic setting quickly becomes a nightmare of war. Mick is surrounded by his family and friends, but they're not at the ranch. They're somewhere dark and cold. They're fighting...fighting against an unseen enemy that blindsides them at every turn. Gunfire echoes through the alleyway, and people run down the street. He hears a scream for help, but cannot lift his feet to move towards the sound. Suddenly he's looking down on the scene as if it's a movie playing before him. Mick can see the faces...he feels the pain...the torment...the terror. The pain tears his heart in two as he sees his family hurting, but is unable to help. In an instant of horror, his brothers are gunned down. He can hear another scream and knows it's Rosetta.

Mick cries out in desperation to the only one he can imagine stopping this battle. "God, help us, please! Stop this suffering!" But instead of the hoped-for peace, a voice whispers back in his ear, hissing with condemnation. "He doesn't know you, Mick...when have you given Him anything but pleas for help? When have you done anything for Him? When have you taken the time to get to know Him?" A mocking laugh cackles. "You do not claim Him as your God, yet you expect him to claim you as His child? You never accepted His Son as your Savior, yet you expect a bridge to Him? You expect peace? You expect to escape eternal punishment? You fool."

Suddenly an image of Sparky's face flashes in front of Mick, his eyes full of sorrow - the same sorrow that had shown through as he'd begged for his brother's attention while expressing his concern and his own experiences through Christ. It was a look begging Mick to believe...begging him to accept the Truth. Yet it had been denied.

In an instant, the world goes black, enveloped in an impenetrable fog. There is nothing - only a pressing feeling of despair so deep that it chokes the very life out of anyone who enters.
Mick feels as if he's been pushed off a cliff, falling towards his death, alone with no one to catch him.

Mick's whole body tenses, jolting him from his nightmare. A cold sweat pours down the back of his neck, and his pulse is racing. He blinks in the dimness of the room, trying to decipher his surroundings and talk himself down from the horrid images he'd just experienced. He rubs a hand over his face, unable to shake the lingering feelings his nightmare had pressed into his soul. "Dang, Sparky," he mumbles. "What did you do to me?"