Davy frowned to himself. Despite his best efforts, Micky wasn't spending any more time with Jenny. He now spoke to her when she started a conversations, and he didn't mind her company, but it was almost always her that initiated it.
He leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes as he let his mind wander. The slow rumble of wheels continued under him as he drifted off to sleep.
Mike frowned as he glanced down at the envelope. The tiny ribbon of dread he always felt when he looked at it was growing quickly as he thought about opening it.
He frowned deeper. He thought he knew what was in the envelope; that was why he dreaded opening it. He sighed as he put the envelope back in his bag and turned back to the song he'd been writing. Mike stared out the window as he tried to think of the right words to say what he thought.
Further up the bus, Peter had just finished his latest letter home. He read it over and then, satisfied with the results, placed it in an envelope which he then put away in a safe location, ready to be mailed the next day.
He was lucky, he thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair and watched the sights of the road. He was lucky to have found Mike, Micky, and Peter, he was lucky to have found Nicole. He was also, he recalled, very lucky to be alive. They were all lucky that they had found success.
He glanced around the bus and observed his band mates. Mike was writing, Davy was sleeping, and Micky was chatting with Jenny. They were lucky to have each other.
Davy had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Images and sound floated through his mind.
'Davy,' he heard a voice whisper through him. 'Davy.'
Davy looked around. "Eliza?" he whispered. Suddenly, she was there, right in front of him. As beautiful as she had been when she was alive.
'Davy,' her voice called to him, though her lips didn't move.
Davy started to walk towards her. Suddenly, a tall, brawny man stepped between them. He held a gun in his large hands.
From behind the man, there was a deafeningly loud crack as a gun went off, and she was gone.
"NO!" Davy shouted. He tried to run, tried to do something, but found he couldn't move. His head whirled, and the images spun around him. He looked down to see the chains on his wrists and ankles.
"Let me go," he said, as he struggled against them.
Melissa's face appeared in front of him. "It's your fault, Davy," she told him. "If it wasn't for you she'd still be alive."
"There was nothing I could do," he insisted.
"You killed her."
"No."
"It's your fault she's dead."
"No," he screamed. He couldn't cover his ears, not while he was chained, but he shut his eyes. "No, no!" he shouted.
There was a loud crack again as a gun went off. "NO!" he screamed even louder than before. His eyes flew open and he saw he was covered with blood.
.
.
.
Davy sat up, sweating. His throat was sore, and he realized he had been screaming. He looked around. He was still on the bus.
'Only a dream,' he thought to himself, trying to slow his beating heart. He shut his eyes. 'Only a dream. This is real. That was a dream. Only a dream.'
"Davy?" a voice asked. He focused on the reality, and opened his eyes. Peter was sitting next to him, and Davy realized that he was the one who had spoken.
"Are you okay, Davy?" Jenny's voice asked. She and Micky were kneeling on the seat in front of him, looking at him over the backs of the chairs.
Davy blinked a few times and nodded mutely. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just a bad dream."
Mike was kneeling over the seat behind him. With a commanding air, his eyes scanned the small crowd of crew members. Seconds later, the on-lookers had disappeared, including Jenny. Micky, Mike, and Peter stayed.
"What was it about, Davy?" Peter asked, once the crowd had dispersed. Davy had been known to have important dreams.
Davy had by this time sufficiently returned to reality. "I'm fine, Petah," he told him, brushing the question aside. "It was just a dream."
Mike walked around from behind him and knelt next to Micky. He raised a skeptical eyebrow and gazed down at Davy. "Pretty important dream," he commented. Davy shrugged.
"You don't usually wake up screaming from your dreams," Peter added pragmatically. "What made this one different?"
Davy shrugged and looked out the window for a moment. He turned back and whispered his answer softly. "It scared me," he admitted.
Peter remained calm. "What scared you?" he asked. "What was the dream about?"
Davy took a moment before answering. "Eliza," he admitted in a small voice. "Just memeories."
The other three exchanged glances. They hadn't realized Davy was still bothered by her.
"Davy, you know it's not your fault," Mike began. Davy brushed it aside, swiftly.
"I know," he said. "I know it wasn't my fault."
Mike looked as though he was going to speak for a moment, but shut his mouth. He looked at Peter and shrugged.
"You can talk to us, you know," Peter offered.
Davy turned away. He didn't want sympathy. "I know," he replied in a somewhat tense voice.
Peter looked at Mike and shrugged. They both stepped off.
Davy remained silent for a few minutes as he looked out the window. Micky spoke after a while.
"You still miss her?" he asked in a quiet voice.
Davy looked up. He looked at Micky for a moment. Micky stared back at him. Davy scanned his face and sensed his emotions. No pity, no sympathy. Just understanding. And then Davy realized. Micky understood.
"Yeah," he replied. "I do." He smiled. Micky smiled back slightly. He wasn't sure entirely of what had happened, but he knew it was important. Davy nodded.
"Thanks man," he told him. Micky nodded and shrugged.
