again, then caught herself.
“What else?”
“It’s so stupid, but…I’ve been having bad dreams. At first I thought this was a good sign, that maybe I’d remember something in my dreams. But the only thing I remember is what I feel when I wake up. I don’t like it.”
It was very difficult for her to talk about her vulnerability, but something in Sean’s eyes said she could trust him.
“Ignoring these feelings won’t make them go away,” Sean said, choosing his words carefully. “When you’re in an intense situation, when your life is at risk, the images burn themselves into your brain. You can either deal with them and hope to put the fear behind you, or you can suppress them.”
“Guess which method my brain has chosen?”
“Suppression might work for a while, but eventually—on their own terms—the images will come to the surface. And then they own you,” he said.
She shook her head. Even with Sean’s comforting presence, she didn’t want to remember the sickening flashes of her dreams.
“Claire.” His voice and eyes were intense. “You can deal with the dreams now, or let them haunt you. It’s your choice. And if you remember…” He shrugged. “If you remember, you can do something about stopping the bastard. Isn’t that better than being eaten alive by nightmares?”
Claire was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was in a half whisper. “I think the worst thing is feeling powerless. Feeling like prey. I was terrified—it was a mortal fear, knowing if I didn’t get away I would die .” She looked up at him. “I bet you’ve never been scared like that.”
“You’d lose,” he said, then stood up. “Before working with the DCPD, I was in the army. Special Forces. I saw action in some drug-infested sewers around the world, as well as the Gulf War. Believe me, even though CNN makes it all look like a freaking training video—a complete rout spliced nicely to fit into their sound bytes—the bullets were goddamn real to those of us on the ground.”
“Oh.” Somehow the knowledge that he’d once been afraid, that he really knew what she was going through, reassured her. “Were you ever injured?”
“Not seriously. Aidan was,” Sean said, repressed emotion throbbing in his voice. “He was a Navy SEAL, but his career ended in a training accident after the Gulf War. Two men died, and they nearly lost Aidan as well. It took him almost a year to recover.”
“It doesn’t show.”
“It’s there. Before the accident, Aidan was a typical cocky SEAL. You know, the ‘I’m invincible, and good looking, too’ mentality. And he was all of those things.” Sean gave a half smile. “But everyone’s luck runs out eventually. Aidan changed after the accident. He dealtwith all the survivor’s guilt and grew up. He figured out what was important in his life.”
“It must have been horrible.”
“I’m not telling you this so that you feel sorry for him, but to make you realize that others have walked the path you’re on right now. And they came out stronger on the other side.”
Claire read through Sean’s words to his unspoken love for Aidan. “You’re very close to him, aren’t you?”
“We were raised together—he’s like my brother. He’s also the reason I’m here, doing a job I love.”
“It must be very nice to have someone who knows you so well.” Though she felt a tug of envy, Claire’s voice was even.
Sean hesitated. He knew that her childhood friend Olivia was the closest thing Claire had to family. It worried him. “When a person has an experience like yours, they should have someone to talk to. A family member, or someone who understands what they’re feeling. You might want to consider seeing a therapist.”
“A shrink? You’ve got to be kidding. How would he or she know what I was feeling?”
Something in Claire rebelled at the idea of seeking help, especially when she couldn’t even say with certainty what was wrong with
Daniela Fischerova, Neil Bermel