Summary: Joshua's always had nightmares, and they're always terrifying when he's in them, but not so much when he's awake. They're just dreams, nothing to be afraid of. Then, he meets Isaac, and his nightmares begin to shake him even after he's awake. He dreams of things that shake him to the bone, that he can't imagine ever being done to another person. Then, he learns that his nightmares, aren't simple dreams. And that's just the start of things. Who are 'They', and why is Isaac running from them?

Warnings: Torture - Past and present (possibly)



Run, run, run. Gotta run.

That was the only thing that went through his mind. They were behind him. He could hear them, but he didn't dare look back. One wrong move and they would have him.

His hands shoved against the trees as he passed them, hoping to gain some momentum; put more distance between him and his pursuers. He was going as fast as he could, and pushing himself faster. His lungs were burning, needing more air than he could give them. His legs felt like they were going to collapse on him at any moment.

Even as he ran, he could feel them trying to give out, to just stop moving. Every time he stumbled, he caught himself and pushed onwards. He couldn't give up.

Gotta run.

Even as desperate as he was, he couldn't help but pause when he reached a small clearing. The moon was just above him, only half full, but probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His sapphire eyes stared up at the sky with the reverence of one long denied a necessity of life. It had been much too long since he'd seen the moon, or the sky, or anything but his cell and the …

No, stop. Can't think about that.

Shouts pulled him from his revelry and he forced himself forward once more, glad that they hadn't caught up with him in his moment of stupidity. His legs protested, and it took him far too long to get back up to speed. His lungs screamed at him again, but he ignored it, pulling as much air into his longs as was possible so he wouldn't pass out. But he gave it no more thought. His mind had more important things to worry about.

How close were they? Where they gaining? Did they hear him? Who all was after him? They couldn't get him. No, that would be bad. That would be very bad.

He wasn't going back. No, they'd have to kill him first. He would kill himself first. He was not going back.

Had he the breath, he'd have cursed as he was yanked to a stop. For a moment, he thought he'd been caught, and struggled against it, but he quickly calmed when he wasn't being yanked back in the direction he came from.

His hair was caught. That was all. His long, ratted, nasty hair was caught on a branch, and it hadn't snapped off. He grimaced and yanked on his hair, trying to get it to tear away. In the end, he had to break the branch off because his hair wasn't coming loose, and he could spare no more time. He spared a moment longer to grimace at his hair. With all the dirt and grime, his hair was almost black.

Shaking his head, he started running again, almost falling when his legs tried to collapse once more. He could remember when he took such pride in his appearance; when he would rather have died than go out looking like this. All he wanted now was to get away. He didn't care what he looked like, or what others thought. It just didn't matter. All that mattered was that he got away.

Run, gotta run. Won't go back.

That was the most important thing. Away. He had to get away.

In his mind, he begged and pleaded with gods he'd never believed existed, but that he'd been praying to a lot over the past year. He had to get away. He wouldn't get another chance. He knew they wouldn't. They'd make sure of it.

There would be more precautions, more guards. He'd be drugged or stunned. Beaten, maybe.

He wouldn't go back. He wouldn't.

That was the only thing he was sure about anymore.

Run, run, run. Gotta run.

The rating is subject to change ... and it probably will in a couple of chapters when ... well, when things begin to happen.

I am Notplanning on making this a slash. My muse is currently against the idea of that, so who am I to disobey? Um ... however, there will be slashy themes. It doesn't mean anything, and it probably wont grow beyond little things, because that's just because ... well, you'll find out.