Work Text:
“Wake up.”
Rev jolted awake. The voice was in his ear, low and deep. He was in his tent, and there was another body pressed against his, though it was not the comforting, furry warmth of Waesric. The blood in his veins turned to ice.
“You think you can just abandon me, again?” the voice hissed. Breath that should have been warm felt like a creeping wind against his delicate skin, and Rev shivered. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at the intruder. He didn’t have to - he knew what we would see.
“Where’s Waesric?” Rev asked softly.
“Your companion is fine.”
“Is this a dream?” Rev felt cold, bloodless fingers trace a pattern into the side of his neck and shuddered.
“Does it matter?” The fingers clamped down onto his throat, not squeezing hard enough to choke but to hold him firmly in place. “You can’t even look at me, you coward.”
Rev clamped his eyes shut, struggling to control his breathing. His breath hitched - his pulse had quickened, and he could feel each beat of his heart.
“I even gave you an opportunity to redeem yourself, and you still ran,” the voice hissed in Rev’s ear. His grasp around Rev’s throat tightened. “You’re never going to escape yourself, Reverence.” The grasp tightened more, and Rev’s breathing, already shallow, was cut off. As the edges of Rev’s vision grew fuzzy, the voice whispered to him one last time.
“Murderer.”
Rev sat up with a violent gasp. Beside him, he felt the comforting fluff of Waesric’s fur. The harengon was still sleeping. Rev brought his hand to his throat. He half-expected the skin to feel tender and sore, but there was nothing out of the ordinary - no pain at all. He stayed still, feeling his pulse slowly drop back to normal, then sighed softly and dropped his hand from his throat. The dream had felt so real. Rev could swear he could still feel the cold grasp on his neck, the whisper of the words in his ear.
"Just a dream," he muttered under his breath.
But even as he said it, he knew that it wasn't. It never was. There were things he'd done, choices he couldn't undo, and no matter how far he ran, they would always catch up with him. His gaze drifted toward the entrance of the tent. Rev rose, and took a slow, deliberate step toward the flap of the tent, the cold air outside beckoning. Waesric would wake soon, and the harengon would ask questions—questions Rev didn't want to answer. But it was time to leave this place, this moment. The shadows of the past were too close.
He pushed the flap aside, and stepped out into the night.