Number Seven lay next to Sorrow and waited for the sound of her breathing to change. The scar comment was new. His colleagues were always telling him that chicks dig scars. He hated the phrase, partly because who the hell would compare a woman to a chick and partly because what kind of a word was dig. She probably wasn't the first woman who admired his scars. She was just the first one honest enough to admit it.

At last he heard that shift, that slower rhythm to her breathing, the very slight snore. He waited a little longer just to be sure. Then he rolled over to her, put one arm around her midriff and nuzzled into the nape of her neck where he could smell her hair. He was asleep seconds later.

For once his sleep was undisturbed.

#

Sorrow dreamt.

She opened her eyes and she instantly knew that something was wrong. This was not her dream. Every night since she'd accepted the Morrigan's gift she had dreamt of the same place. It was a land of tall trees and dark skies lit by impossibly brilliant starlight. The most advanced technology was the iron kettle that long dead heroes used to brew tea over the campfire. This was not that place.

She was in a rocky desert somewhere. There were mountains in the distance. The terrain looked like Afghanistan or Pakistan, or possibly Kashmir. Maybe. If this was the real world. And if it was somewhere she knew. She'd been around a lot but she hadn't been everywhere.

It was dark and cold but she could see a glow along the horizon. Was that dawn or dusk? The air was still in a way that made her feel like the glow was dawn. It was the stillness of the world holding its breath. Surely the land was waiting for the return of the sun.

Or maybe it was waiting for the wailing. It was far off when she heard it. Screaming, crying or perhaps both at once. It was too distant to tell. She walked towards the sound. Something about it was familiar. She'd heard it before but it hurt to try to remember where.

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The sound didn't seem to be getting any closer. As she broke into a run the memory of the sound came back to her. That was the sound of grief, of a heart breaking, of someone losing everything. She hadn't heard it often but she understood it on an ancestral level. Just like the first time she'd smelled death and she'd known exactly what it was.

Sorrow wasn't any closer to the sound. It made her angry. No dream was going to mess her around. She leapt into the air and flew towards the sound.

The sun was coming up. She could see the sky ahead growing lighter. The light spilled through a gap in the hills and across the ground and rolled over the remains of a compound. That was the source. It had been a solidly constructed place once but someone had bombed the living fuck out of it. It couldn't have been easy. The compound was hidden in a sheltered gorge and had been well dug in. It was probably virtually invisible from the sky.

Closer still and she realised that there were no craters. There had been no air strike. Someone had planted charges and blown it up. And possibly also hit it with a flamethrower. And shot the place up a bit.

She could see something moving in the shadow of the walls. It was a long strip of blue cloth flapping in the wind. She got closer and could see what looked like a human figure huddled over something on the ground. Then the sun burst over the horizon and the light flooded the gorge and rolled over her and she woke up.

She opened her eyes expecting to see sunlight bursting in through the window. She was confused by the cool blue light until she remembered that she was in the bedroom of the safe house. She checked the time. Still a couple of hours before she needed to get up.

Number Seven was pressed up against her. She could feel his breath on her neck. His chin was resting against her bare shoulder and she was glad that he'd shaved. Still, he was a bit too close for comfort. She levered him off and rolled him onto his back.

She looked at his face. Even totally relaxed it had a hard edge to it. Maybe something to do with the scar that ran down the middle of his right cheek. She listened to his breathing, just to be sure that he really was asleep. Then she kissed the livid purple bruises that spread out from his ribs and across his stomach, laid her head on his chest and went back to sleep.

Seven smiled but did not wake.