"Why won't you die," Michelle mutters from the couch. Henderson and Logan keep reappearing, one face morphing into the other, and no matter how many times she shoots at them, they come back.
Blood coats her from head to foot and she's still looking for more bullets.
Jack starts a little at the sound of a muffled voice coming from the living room. He knows Michelle is sleeping in there, but she'd been sleeping so soundly, he's almost forgotten that she's there.
Putting the dish back in the drying rack, he tosses the towel on the counter and walks over to the living room. Her forehead is furrowed, her expression making it clear that this isn't a pleasant dream.
He gently touches her shoulder, shaking her a little. "Michelle?"
"About twenty after three in the morning. You were talking in your sleep," he says, taking a seat in the armchair nearby. "Why're you sleeping down here?"
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Blood coats her from head to foot and she's still looking for more bullets.
"Stop moving..."
In the distance she hears a baby crying.
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Putting the dish back in the drying rack, he tosses the towel on the counter and walks over to the living room. Her forehead is furrowed, her expression making it clear that this isn't a pleasant dream.
He gently touches her shoulder, shaking her a little. "Michelle?"
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Her eyes open slowly and focus on him.
"Jack? What time is it?"
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