I know I'm dreaming. It's a sunny day and I'm at the park with Shane. We're having a picnic. I'm unpacking wine, cheese, and fruit and setting everything out neatly on our big tartan wool blanket while Shane lays sprawled in the sun, his eyes closed behind his sunglasses. His big, strong arms are folded up behind his head, his white tee-shirt stretched over the hard planes of his chest–he makes a distracting picture.

"Like what you see?"

I jump a little at his voice and glance at his face to see him grinning at me.

"You look different," I pop open the wine and pour us each a cup, "Have you been working out more?"

"Yes. I had to for the Europa job."

Europa. The Europa job. That's right. Shane took a ridiculous job with Horizon Colonies.

I balance my wine glass, careful not to spill as I shuffle over to him on my knees. He leans up on his elbows and I throw one leg over him, balancing with one hand on his shoulder. I'm straddling him, my weight on my knees.

"Don't go. Quit that job and stay home with me. I need you." This is so obviously a dream–I would never be so needy and demanding with Shane in real life–but it feels so real. When he sits up, wrapping his arms around me, I can smell him and feel how warm he is. I feel the sunshine warming my back and hear the sounds of birds and nature around us.

"I won't go. If you need me here, I'll stay with you. Your happiness is my happiness, Honey-bun, and I would never do anything to hurt you." He's speaking assurances into my hair as he hugs me so tightly, I struggle to breathe.

I'm so relieved! He's going to stay home, he won't be gone for two years after all. We'll sleep together every night, and I won't be so crushingly, pathetically lonely.

I pull back and look into his face. He's still wearing those sunglasses, so I see myself reflected back.

"But you did."

"No," he shakes his head, "I wouldn't. Not when you've asked me to stay."

"I didn't ask you to stay though. So, you left…"

"No. I'm right here." He tries to pull me close again, but I lean away.

"You left and I was alone. And then, Rick," I inhale sharply remembering, "Rick was killed! Shane, I was—they got me. Injected me with something—”

"Shhhh shhh shhh, no baby doll. I would never let that happen. I'm here with you. It's okay."

"But Rick! Shane, Rick's dead! Our plan didn't work, and I got him killed! I was thinking such unkind things about him and now he's dead!" I'm yelling and crying, and Shane is shushing me and telling me everything will be okay. I want to believe him. I want to forget that this is a dream. Forget about Rick. Just snuggle into Shane's warmth and be with him like he hadn't ever left in the first place.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

So that's what I do. I snuggle into Shane, breathe in his scent, listen to him tell me how much he loves me and that he would never, ever leave. He lays back down and I move to his side, my head pillowed on his chest with one leg thrown over him, pinning him. I hear his heartbeat and feel him taking each breath and I just soak all of that in.

The air changes–it's suddenly very cool. The sun has set, and the first few stars are out. I sit up and look around, rubbing my arms trying to warm up. Shane is gone. The whole picnic is gone. No food or wine or blanket.

Of course Shane is gone. He took the job.

The grass feels wet and cold with dew on my bare feet. My sandals have disappeared too along with everything else, and my capri pants and tank-top aren't appropriate for this temperature.

I start to shiver. I've never had such sharp feelings in a dream before, but the cold is painful. There isn't anything nearby, no building or cars or anything, just a meadow of short, cold, dewy grass as far as I can see, which isn't far in this dark.

I have never been this cold in my life. The air feels sharp and stinging in my lungs. I'm freezing inside as well as out.

Maybe I'm actually freezing to death? I remember the attack. I was sedated. Did they just leave me knocked out on the cold ground? I hadn't checked the weather before Rick, and I made a run for it. That's pretty dumb.

Oh lord, this hurts. My whole body aches and shivers from this damnable cold. I'm curled up into a ball, trying to conserve body heat, but nothing is helping. Freezing to death isn't supposed to hurt though, is it? Your body goes numb, and you fall asleep, right?

Shivering so hard my teeth are chattering noisily together, my skin feels painfully chapped. This might be a dream, a nightmare, but something is really very wrong, and I need to wake up. How can I do that?

"Wake up now," I say out loud.

"She's coming around."

"WAKE UP!" I yell as loud as I can.

I jerk, sitting up.

I'm awake. Still cold, but awake.

Looking around, I can see that I'm in a room with a bench built into the wall. The room is really small, and light gray. There's a door with no handle, but there is a window.

I move to stand, but I immediately fall over. The floor is cold and hard, only more reason to push myself to get up. I move onto my hands and knees, then straighten up so I'm kneeling. Holding the bench for balance, I slowly stand up on wobbly legs. One shuffling step after another I move toward the door with the small window and peer outside it.

It's a hallway. All that work to look at a hallway. It's boring and gray. I have no idea where I am. But this hallway is round? Tubular? It doesn't have corners at the floor and ceiling. The door doesn't either, it's an oval. Huh. Strange design.

Where am I? Those SynDeCorp guys who killed Rick must have brought me here. Is this like a secret facility? Why go through the trouble of bringing me here and not just leave me or kill me?

I sit down on the bench. I think of Rick, but then I firmly push that aside. What I need to do now is come up with a plan. They have to have me here for a reason, and whatever it is has got to be bad news. Should I attack whoever comes in here? Should I just clam up, refuse to talk, or interact with anyone? No, I can't get out of here by beating people up or being obstinate. They have all the power and I have none. I do need a course of action though.

After mulling it over, I decide to act cooperative. Pretend to be agreeable. Hopefully, they'll eventually let their guard down or maybe be convinced that they can let me go. Or maybe I should concentrate on just keeping myself alive and whole until I can come up with a plan to escape. I don't really know anything about my situation yet. I don't know what they want from me. I need to be calm and pay attention.

I lean my back against the wall and concentrate on relaxing. I need to relax all my muscles and my mind. Thoughts of Shane and Rick pop up and I push them aside. I can be emotional later. I focus on my breathing. I'm not freaking out at all. Totally calm and collected.

The door makes a click sound and opens.

I steel my nerves. Whoever this is, I will speak calmly and respectfully to them. I'll be friendly. They'll see me as a fellow human being. Not a prisoner, not a test subject, but a friendly, likable woman.

I'm ready.

I lift my chin and open my eyes to greet my captor.

It's Shane.