Page 33 of The Shadowed Oracle
The two of them shared another glance before Dean said, “You’re taking this pretty well.”
“Or I’m doing a good job acting like I am.”
“Then, I guess, thank you for whichever one it is. Because fuck me if I don’t see a younger version of myself in you right now.” Another complex reverie seemed to strike him. “There were so many things that couldn’t be explained. So many thingsthat kept me up at night. And nothing compared to that very first time I heard all this. But you...”
“What?”
Dean smiled wider. “You’re gonna roll your eyes but, I really am in awe of you.”
He was right. Ingrid’s eyes rolled, but only slightly. “Believe me,” she said, drawing a circle around her face with her index finger. “This. It’s all an act. Inside, I’m losing it. No matter how hard you try to help.”
Without any hint or warning, Dean stood up from the seat at the control panel and moved closer to Ingrid. His steps were cautious, considerate of the gun she still clung to for her own comfort, but his body was relaxed. Every inch of him trusted Ingrid. Trusted her to trust him.
“Hold out your hand,” he asked finally, staring intensely at her until she met his gaze.
She didn’t reach out to meet him, only stared back.
“Just trust me. It’s something my mom did for me when she first told me all this. It helped.”
“You were six.”
“So?” Dean shrugged and attempted to meet her halfway, holding his hand out, palm up.
Ingrid looked at it, then at Dean.
His expression was still so welcoming, easy and nonchalant. It was just a hand, after all. Just a silly little exchange.
“Are you afraid?” Dean asked. “Have you forgotten you have a gun pointed at me?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She didn’t feel like she was in danger, and although it wasn’t a guarantee, she was usually a good judge of this kind of thing.
Taking a heavy breath, she thrust her palm into his and?—
Both light and sound faded from the room.
Fuzzy images and muddled scenes flooded her mind’s eye. She saw scenes that felt like memories, but couldn’t have been. Because they weren’t fromher past… they were from Dean’s.
She saw a woman dressed in combat gear, her hazel hair piled on top of her head, sitting in the chair Dean had just been sitting in. Then she saw a tall man with long grey-blonde hair, scars on his hands, a long, pointed beard, andhereyes standing over the control panel.
And then she saw nothing.
Ingrid’s mind went blank.
The next thing she knew, she was falling backwards, slamming against the wall and sliding with a thud down to the floor.
The muscles in her legs had given out.
“Oh, fuck.” Dean rushed to her side. “I’ll get you some water.” He made for the door but Ingrid grabbed him by the ankle.
“No,” she rasped. “Please stay.” Her body may have been failing her, but her mind was clear. She wanted him nearby. She couldn’t be alone. Not now.
“I’m right here,” Dean said, kneeling down next to her on the cold concrete floor. He stretched a hand toward her for just a moment before stopping himself short. “Anything you need. Just try not to pass out on me, okay? Can you do that?”
“I’m okay,” she replied shakily. “I’m okay now. I just felt… I felt what you were feeling, all at once. And then… then I saw your mother. I saw Karis, too.” She pointed at the monitors, the ancient computers. “There. They were just there. I could see them. I could feel them. What did you do to me?”
Dean shook his head confidently. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything. The hand thing, it’s a stupid breathing exercise. I didn’t do anything. It was all you.”
Ingrid went still.
