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A woman stood on the balcony, looking out over a parade of people as they shouted and cried out. But this was no joyous occasion. Quite the opposite in fact. A thousand lives, ten thousand lives, more ended in less than six seconds. The merest push of a button and a population instantly quieted. Quieted everywhere but in her own mind. In her mind, they still spoke, still screamed, still called her a murderer and on one level, she believed them.
But she would never, could never admit that. But at night, when her rest cycle started, the dreams were as vivid now as they were ten thousand years ago. A year for every life taken? She cried as she watched them march past, fists raised towards her. But this time she wasn't alone. Someone watched from the balcony, from right beside her. And that someone was trying desperately to figure out the pieces.
A flash of memory, people crying out for evacuation, begging for a way out but finding none. But it was the only way. The best way out. The statistical best. He put out a hand, touching her shoulder, offering her comfort in some small way. He knew that he could not erase it. Nothing would, but maybe with someone to share the burden, it would grow a little less with each passing touch.
She turns away, an unspoken challenge. Stay or go. His choice was simple. He caught her and without a word, he reassured her. He could not leave her alone, not with such a weight on her soul. His hand went to her hair, stroking it as he whispered words in her ear. He could feel her tears against his skin and accepted them, accepted her pain and made it his own.
And then it all clicked. A feeling that he had never felt before. A thousand lights, all as bright as the ones they had passed to gain entry to this place, seemed to turn on and everything settled into place. His grip tightened on her shoulders and quietly let his thoughts carry over to her.
You're not alone. You're not alone. Never again. All you need to do is call.
She seemed to ease at that. As if she felt the pull as well. Darkness seemed to descend, but even the darkness seemed brighter than usual and he faded off into another dream. A dragon lay wounded, bleeding from a heart wound, injured beyond belief and four other figures lying, standing, holding him as he bled. Concern evident.
He couldn't help but feel that this was important, significant. He knew what the image meant even if he didn't know the cause. Someone or something had damaged her oldest brother and they now fought to keep him there, in the game. Though to call it a game was to dismiss it and that would not do.
He woke, bright and new and feeling rested but still worried. His hand found the panel and stroked it, his habit of reassurance, of togetherness. He reached out, promising something to himself and to her.
Thank you! Thank you for showing me... I don't know if we can help... But ask and we will try. I will try. You're not alone any more. None of you are... And neither are we.
What felt like a smile brushed over his mind and he smiled in return.