Common goals

Anaisa stared at her husband, waiting for him to answer her question. He was asking for her to trust his judgment, and that he intended to do what was best for them.

That, in itself, was almost a larger act of trust than giving him all her secrets. How could she truly trust he was doing what was best if she didn't know everything he did? If he didn't know everything she did?

She knew that in fact, they wanted very different things.

"We're married now. A team." He told her. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him.

"A team?" Anaisa tested the term out on her tongue.

"Yes. We work together towards our common goals, and trust each other to help with that. Like working the farm. Teamwork keeps us both fed and clothed, which is something we both want." He explained.

"What I want first is to be assured of my sister's safety," Anaisa chewed her lip thoughtfully as she watched Trace's reaction, but he simply nodded. He didn't ask what she wanted second, and she didn't offer the information.

"And we will go look for her as soon as I can get the animals settled." He replied.

It still didn't make sense. Why? He couldn't be that altruistic. Setting aside the pursuit of his livelihood to go on a possibly fruitless search for her sister? It was unwise, and illogical on his part.

She'd already told him she wouldn't ask more about his secrets if he didn't want her to. That was in part so that she wouldn't feel guilty keeping her own secret to herself.

"So we will work as a team to make sure she is safe?" Anaisa asked in confirmation.

"Yes. Do you trust me that much?" He responded.

He was still hiding something. Possibly something large. Alarms in her head were going off, but she was getting what she wanted. Did she dare risk changing that?

Whatever his real reason was for taking her to the city, it would accomplish her goal of searching for Katia, and putting her closer to getting her home back.

"I think so, for now." Anaisa answered as honestly as she could. If Trace betrayed her trust at any point, he would lose it all, but up to this point he had been straightforward with her.

"That's good enough for me, for now," He smiled. "I almost forgot, I bought some little cakes at the store while you were looking at fabric."

"You did?" Anaisa blinked at the sudden change of subject.

"We had no proper wedding with a grand meal, but I didn't want to let the occasion pass without at least some form of celebration." Trace rose and went to a parcel yet to be opened, drawing out two delicious looking treats and laying one before her.

"Thank you," Anaisa accepted the delicate pastry and nibbled at it slowly. It reminded her of the snacks the cook sometimes snuck to the sisters when their father had one of his parties, but less refined, and perhaps a bit squished from the wagon ride home. It was scrumtious.

As the pair readied for sleep, few words were spoken between them. The quilt was secured in place as a barrier between them. Anaisa took her place on the bed, and Trace on the floor. Silence reigned for a moment. 

"Goodnight, Trace." Anaisa said softly to the man whose home and life she now shared.

"Goodnight, Anaisa." He replied quietly. 

_

Trace lay staring at the ceiling for a moment, his mind running back over the conversation he'd had with his wife.

Was it good? Bad? Was it a productive step towards mutual trust, or a simple acknowledgement that they didn't, and might not ever, trust each other?

It bothered him. He'd never thought twice about keeping his secret before, but now, it felt wrong, especially compounded further with the secrecy of the blackmail that was holding Katia hostage.

And her secret, whatever it was. Or did she have more than one? A bit of paranoia at the corner of his mind whispered malicious thoughts. That maybe she was some sort of spy sent by the blackmailer who wished to control him.

But that didn't make sense at all. Did it? No, of course not!

He rolled to his side and willed himself to sleep. The deep breathing from the other side of the room coaxed him into his dreamworld.

Trace opened his eyes to a brilliant blue sky and blazing heat. Desert mountains and low scrub brush dotted the horizon. But he didn't stay there.

Barely thinking of it, he found himself at the edge of his world, looking out, to that glass orb of his wife's dreams. With an almost involuntary draw, he walked towards it again, unable to make out what was happening inside.

There was turmoil within.

The temptation to look inside was nearly overwhelming. Trace had just talked about building trust, but this would be breaking it, wouldn't it?

Still, if he wanted to protect Anaisa and her sister from the blackmailer, wouldn't it be better for him to know the secret he was guarding on their behalf? And his wife had expressed her unwillingness to tell him, hadn't she? She found trust difficult, she said.

Trace sighed, hating himself for what he was about to do. But just a peek wouldn't hurt… right? 

He took a step forward, through the glossy edge of Anaisa's dream.

Inside was screaming.

A man, half-monster, towered in a small room. Drunken and raging, he threw furniture, breaking it, roaring as he hunted. Under the bed in the corner, Trace could see two girls huddled together, one with red hair, the other dark.

Anaisa as a child, with her sister.

Terror flavored the dream, making it hard to breathe, or move. Trace closed his eyes and banished the monster, unable to bear its presence.

The dream destabilized, as dreams sometimes did when he interfered. It was easy to replace a dream entirely, but to change a part of one in progress was a delicate matter that risked collapsing the entire thing.

That had happened once or twice in the army, and it jolted both him and the other person awake, making them suspicious and restless. He held out his hands, palms out to each side, as if holding the walls of the dream in place.

He should have known better than to so casually dismiss the primary character in a dream like this, but the sight of the two cowering little girls had turned something sharp in his heart.

Slowly, the wavering images solidified, and he stepped out of sight, watching the little redheaded girl. She peeked out, braver than the slightly larger girl beside her.

Instead of fear, now a look of anger and determination carved her features. Her upper lip curled in distaste as her clear, small voice rang out.

"He deserted us, Katia. Just like he always does."

Trace's stomach clenched. Dreams didn't always accurately portray reality or memories, but this still painted an incredibly bleak picture of his wife's childhood.

"Katia? Katia?" The little voice changed from angry to terrified as Trace blinked and refocused. The other little girl was gone, leaving the small redhead alone. "Where are you, Katia??"

The panic in her voice was too much for Trace to take any longer. He turned his head away and concentrated on a peaceful scene. Pushing Anaisa's nightmare aside, he replaced it around her with a vision of a green field.

The little girl blossomed into the woman he knew, and she looked about in momentary confusion. Trace stayed hidden behind the branches of a tree, watching to make sure she relaxed.

The fear and anger of the former dream lingered, mixed with panic as Anaisa looked around the new place.

"Katia?" She asked the sky.

Trace realized that, no matter what kind of dream he gave her, she would be alone. Tears streaked down her face.

From outside the dream, he could push emotion into it, make peace out of chaos. He could do that now, as he had the night before, but the idea of her being alone distressed him.

He'd already been here too long, seen too much. He should go.

Anaisa remained standing in the field, looking around and calling out for her sister. Guilt plagued Trace. If not for him, her sister's husband would not have been summoned to the city, and into danger.

If not for him, she wouldn't be alone.

Exiting the edge of her dream, he turned back and laid his hand on the glassy, clouded surface of the bubble surrounding it. There was no turmoil within, just a deep, aching loneliness. Breathing deeply, he thought of his childhood games with his brother and pushed that feeling of joy into the dream he'd given Anaisa.

He felt it slowly take hold, glowing and blooming.

For the rest of the night, he stayed there, guarding her dream with one hand placed on it. Her waking anxiety was his fault, the least he could do was keep it at bay for the night.