I needed to calm down. Even after I left Xerses' office, my heart raced. I was sweating. The cool air of Chicago's night did nothing for me. I wanted it to, but by the time I made it back to my apartment, I was burning up. The walk up the stairs only made it worse.

"Roger?" Clara met me at the front door. It wasn't that I knocked. I'd stood there for what could've been minutes—panting, rubbing my head, wanting to get my thoughts together. The security system must have alerted her.

She leaned against the doorway before pulling me inside, turning the lock behind me. "Roger, you're burning up," she said, her hand on my back.

I looked into the apartment we shared. The curtains to our windows were pulled open, exposing the moon, the stars. As Clara came closer to stand in front of me, I was reminded of the first night I told her how I felt; to look through her eyes and see the night sky.

Back then, it had been my escape.

I need to escape, Clara.

"What happened?" She frowned, looking up at me. "You've been seeing Xerses a lot, and when you come back home—"

"I know." I wrapped an arm around her and turned her towards the window. Leaning my head against hers, I closed my eyes.

"—And you won't tell me what's going on." She grabbed my arm. And held tight. "It's not like you to hide things from me, you know."

As I moved her closer to the window and focused on the stars in the sky, I chuckled. A soft, nervous, uncomfortable laugh. Had she forgotten how we were before? "I'm okay," I said, licking my bottom lip. A plane passed overhead, quietly soaring through the clouds. I looked at it for a moment before shifting my head to look at her, into her eyes. "I'd tell you if I wasn't."

I'm lying to you, Clara.

"But you don't look okay," she said, locking her gaze with mine. "You're sweating, you're hot, something's wrong."

I'm trying to protect you until I know what this is.

"I'm just a little disconnected, that's all." I was being a little honest. There was that. "With the rush of all the Malfunctioners, I," deflect, deflect, deflect, "think it's affecting me, too."

Clara quickly turned. Her brown eyes glistened with emotions. I was able to read her temperature with ease, and with the fluctuating heat, I knew her thoughts ran rapid. Yet, still, I couldn't tell her everything. "The Malfunctioners? Really?"

They were the beginning piece of this; a move she and Erica made when they tried to help us. They hadn't intended on it, I know that. But that didn't change the fact that it happened... and with Polk reappearing, I needed to make sure I knew what we were dealing with before I told her the entire story.

"Yeah, really, but," I smiled, "I'm okay. X's running some tests, that's all. I'll be good as new before you know it..."

But telling her everything? I wasn't sure if I would. If Xerses and I could figure this out, then there wasn't the need. Just like... I didn't want to tell her how I felt disconnected, how my memories were affected. Was it wrong that I wanted to keep her gumdrops and rainbows alive?

If she knows how dark my past was, I'll be nothing but an endless storm for her.

Cupping her face, I looked into her eyes before glancing down at her lips. They glistened as she whispered, "I love you, Roger."

And despite the saying, a lot of rain did hurt.

"I love you." I gently pressed my lips against hers.

"Just..." Clara glanced back into my eyes. "I just want you to be okay."

I don't want to be her rainstorm.

"Let's go to sleep, hm?" With a wave of my hand, I powered off the appliances in our apartment. Flicking my fingers, the television turned off, too. It was just Clara and me standing in the shadows of our small studio; the shine of the moon outside was our light. "I'll feel better in the morning. Just watch."

|||

I was asleep. For how long, I wasn't sure, but it came as quickly as it left. The moment I felt peace settle over me, the heat slipping away, my eyes snapped open. I wasn't in bed, I wasn't next to Clara.

The Void surrounded me in white emptiness.

I spun. My hands stretched out at my side before I pushed them up into my ears. Glancing above me, I searched for a ceiling, but found none.

Of course not. What was I expecting? The Void had no beginning, no middle, no end. It was my open-spaced prison; the place of my nightmares. "FUCK!" I shouted into the space. "Why, why, WHY am I here!"

The floor shifted. I quickly glanced down at my feet as the floor changed. The white spread into a front lawn. Clean cut grass called to me, beckoning me to look ahead. Lifting my gaze, I saw the front steps of my Georgia home. The white exterior should have welcomed me, but it didn't. It couldn't.

This house had been destroyed because I was impatient.

"Why am I here?" I whispered, shaking my head. "I don't want to be here."

My first instinct was to call out to someone, to Xerses, but no one placed me here. This was a dream, not a memory. And this could easily turn into a nightmare.

Yet, I looked up at the attic's window, which opened to the space. The curtain inside rustled with imaginary wind. Taking in a slow breath, I remembered the attic's interior space; my mother's sewing room. The mannequins inside terrified me as a boy. A space filled with, what my child-like brain processed, nightmares.

I wasn't a kid anymore. And I shouldn't be afraid of where I grew up.

"Maybe my mind's trying to calm me down." Taking a step forward, I listened to the grass under my shoes. I pushed my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. I was dressed as any other day, not the pajamas I put on before bed. This could be freeing; I could see my mother, a sweet memory to counter the bad.

Walking up the front steps, I tried to smile. "I can't be afraid of everything in my head..."

Brown furniture bordered the walls of my mother's living room. The TV sat in the center, placed on top of a wooden stand. A small pink candle had been lit in front of the news that played on the screen. The flickering flame had my attention as I stepped inside, but the news anchor on the channel pulled it away.

My eyes glanced at the man with the blonde comb-over. Captured footage of the war's beginning played beside his head. Just as I'd done when I first learned about the war, I bit my lip, leaned back, and called out to my mother. "Mom?"

I wanted my dream to have a sweet memory, not this. Yet, I remembered how she consoled me that day. She told me there was nothing to be afraid of. If there was anything I needed in that moment, after the days of relearning about myself, after the afternoon of seeing Polk; someone needed to tell me it would be all right.

I turned back to look into the hall, at the stairway that went up to my room. Darkness filled the space. And yet, I still called out again. "Mom?"

Nothing. Silence.

I gulped. "Mama, you here?"

"Why would she be here?" a voice said from behind. "She wasn't before all of this. You never thought of her."

My eyes widened. I knew that voice. Polk. Yet I didn't turn to look at him. I focused on the picture hanging on the wall. It was of my mother and me, sitting on the front porch of the house. It was our reminder that we had each other; we'd lost my brother, my father, but we were still alive.

I'm still alive.

"All of these memories are filling you with regret, hm? Pitiful."

Once footsteps echoed behind me, I turned back. Polk waltzed in, eyeing his surroundings as if he'd just bought the place. The smirk on his face made me sick. "You know, it's surprising you still retained this part of yourself after the deletions." His gaze dropped to me. "You remember those days, don't you? Back when the threats of deleting the world were real."

Polk stepped into my living room, then stared at the TV. He passed his hand over his hair before sighing. "I remember those days, you know; even though known of it was me. Zara, well shit," he laughed. "When Zara got angry and put her mind to something, she—"

I turned to him. "Why are you here?" I asked, then narrowed my gaze. "How are you here?"

The light from the TV passed over his face. The voice of the anchorman's report filled the room as we looked at each other in silence.

"These Rebels are inciting fear within the southern states, many of whom have called upon their National Guard."

"You're still the old Roger, hm? Asking the wrong questions, so you're not getting the answers you need." Polk clicked his teeth.

I clenched my jaw before gulping. "I never asked questions."

"Ha!" Polk laughed before rubbing his temple. "There's that. Shit, I forgot about that one."

"If you can join your state's forces, please do so. Help us fight this war," the news anchor said. "Our country needs you."

I was done listening to the news report that lied to everyone. To use fear to get us to move, to react; it was how my father and brother died, and why I joined the fight.

Crossing the space into the living room, I powered off the TV with the button on its side. "This is a dream." I faced Polk. "This is a dream. It's in my head. None of this matters."

"Oh, so you say." He slowly nodded. Without the light passing over his head, he looked like a shadow. Yes, that's what he was; pinging darkness in my dream.

The beginning of my nightmare.

"Whatever you're going to say won't matter, either. I'll wake up and you'll be just this," I pointed at the floor, "a part of my dream, stuck in my head."

"Is that what you think I am?" he asked. "Just a dream stuck in your head."

"You...." The real Polk wasn't a dream, but this was. I'd gone to sleep in my own home, in my own bed, which meant this was all a figment of my anxieties. "Yes, you're stuck in my head," I said. "And when I wake up, you'll be there, but at least I'll handle the real you and not this. And—"

Polk lifted his hand beside his head. He snapped his fingers. A flash went off overhead. I blinked to block the light, but when I focused again, my house was gone. Everything—the living room, the hallway, the front porch, and the green grass—gone.

"You know," Polk stepped closer to me, "I never got the chance to ask you how were you liking all of your memories, hm? I'd said you were the one I saw pass through here the most. The others just kind of came," he waved his hand in the air, "went, and took what I gave them. Which," he tapped his temple, "was rightfully theirs, so I had no problem doing so."

Each step he took towards me, I stepped back. Slowly, I shook my head. "I'm dreaming—"

"Funny!" He clicked his teeth and pointed at me. "I used to think that, too; I was dreaming and drifting around this place. Sometimes, I thought," he shrugged, "maybe I was dead, but nope! Zara, my loving wife," he cupped his hands over his heart and sighed, "she was the one who made sure I was nice and safe in here."

No. None of this was real. I closed my eyes. "Stop—"

"When I realized I wasn't sleeping, I, well, I woke up and found she wasn't with me. I looked and looked and looked, but nothing! There was just all of this white space."

His chest bumped mine, and my eyes snapped open. For a split second, I saw him the way I truly remembered him—a man with dead eyes and no soul. But that image quickly faded, replaced by a man who couldn't stop grinning, laughing, and telling me his life story as if I cared to listen.

I needed to wake up. I needed to get out of here.

"You know, Rog, who would've thought computers could be so open, hm?" He rubbed his chin. "That's the one thing I could never figure out."

My throat was tight as I looked at him. "What... what are you trying to say?"

"Hm? Oh." Looking back at me, he blinked. "I walked around this place looking for my wife, but she wasn't here. But you know what I found instead?" He lifted his brows. "Deleted and locked files. Lots and lots and lots of them. Memories, I believe. Does that sound familiar?"

My heart hammered in my chest. This wasn't a dream, was it? If it was, why was it so detailed? Why would it feel like this was so... real? "I..."

Polk snorted. "I thought if I were to let them out and clear up the space, I'd find Zara. But," he shrugged, "didn't think I'd find all the intricate details of WWIII. All you—what do you call yourselves, Codes?—had a very, very sad life before the Province."

I looked around. Nothing. Emptiness. I wasn't in a dream. This was the Void. How, why, was I connecting back here? I hadn't in so long... I don't want to be here. "What?" I breathed.

"Oh, speaking of the war," Polk took three quick steps towards me to get closer, "which side were you on, anyway? Since it was here, I went through your data. Each meticulous file. You know," he tapped my cheek, "you weren't the best person, were you?"

"I need to wake up." Quickly, I turned around and tried to find a crack, some split in the Void. There had to be. If there was a way in, there was a way out.

Behind me, Polk chuckled. "You were awful, right? A traitor. You know, treason, by definition, is punishable by death."

I started to walk away. If I couldn't find the exit, I knew it'd find me. Eventually, I'd be awake in my bed and out of this place. That's what happened to Clara every time, right? She'd visit and left as if she hadn't been. I needed to not be. I needed to leave.

Once I was far enough, Polk called out to me. "Roger, it would be a shame if everyone knew who you really are."

I glanced back. Polk didn't follow me. He remained, smiling, an evil look on his face.

He said, "I said are because it's not like you really changed. You did the same thing during the Digital War, right? Swapped sides, looked out for yourself?"