(EDIT: When I was younger, I spent years as a silent reader—one who genuinely loved even the cheesiest, most poorly-written fics if I liked the idea behind them, and one who became so sad whenever an author deleted/unpublished a story just because they'd improved as a writer and didn't like their old works anymore. I made a personal policy with myself that I wouldn't delete my older works, even if I thought they were terrible someday—because who knows? There might be another young silent reader out there like I was, once, who'd be genuinely sad to see it go.
That said, if I were in the habit of removing stories, most of what's in this book would definitely go. It is so terrible and I apologize for its existence. I promise I've improved in the past several years! I'm not sure why I thought these were good enough to write or post in the first place. Please check out pretty much anything newer than the following two chapters for better content! Hopefully I'll finish a few better ideas I had and update this eventually—these kids deserve better than this, lol. Still, if you can, enjoy!)

A/N: Did I mention I have a ship? I do. Beware the ship! Also beware the oldness of this one; it's from ages ago. It's not much, but enjoy!

* * *

He was running.

Not running for his life, though. He would've been fine if that was the case—he was a Murphy, after all. The thought of having to escape danger didn't really scare him anymore. Why should it? It was inevitable, and he would probably be okay.

His friends were a different story. They shouldn't have to be in danger. And what if they got hurt? Really hurt?

The thought of that was much, much worse than being afraid for his own life.

Milo felt his tired legs shake beneath him as he ran, but he couldn't think of stopping. Not now, with so much at stake.

It was dark, very dark. Only a few aging street lamps lit the way down the pitch-black road.

There was no one else was in sight. Was the town empty? Where was everyone?

How could he find any help?

Milo, with an increasing feeling of anxiousness settling in the pit of his stomach, realized he didn't know.

He veered a sharp turn down a black alleyway. Broken glass and rusted nails littered the ground, but by some miracle, he didn't step on them.

He barely noticed where he was. He was here, that was what was important at the moment—he didn't need to question it.

"Milo!" a familiar voice called, but it was so faint that Milo couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"W—What?" Milo asked the empty air, for some reason getting a very distinct feeling who was calling to him. "...Melissa, is that you? Where are you?"

"Milo!" the voice came again, and a rock settled in Milo's stomach. If it was Melissa, she sounded very strained... and sounding strained was just about the closest Melissa ever got to full-out panicking.

"I'm coming!" Milo quickly called back, only half-focusing as bricks and asphalt and dark alleyways blurred by in his peripheral vision. "Hang on; just a minute!"

Darkness drifted by in a blur, and Milo found himself at a dead end in the road. A towering brick warehouse stood in front of him, a huge doorway standing open, as if to swallow him up. Milo couldn't see anything inside—it was a massive, empty shadow of black and blue.

He barely paused, not stopping to think. Instead, he dove inside, stumbling slightly in the dark.

Hallway. He was in a hallway now. He must've been here before; he already knew what the layout of this particular hall was.

Doorways whirred by at a dizzying pace, each as dark and void of life as the next.

Black, black, black, orange.

As soon as Milo caught a glimpse of orange and white and pink in one of the doorways, he skidded forward as he tried to scramble to a stop. Reversing direction, he ran back to the doorway and stared anxiously inside, only to find...

Nothing.

"Milo!" called the voice again from somewhere else, sounding increasingly muffled and faint. "Milo!"

"I'm coming!" Milo called back, turning heel to run toward the sound. He was vaguely aware of crashing and crumbling noises from Murphy's law behind him, but he outran it all. "Melissa? Where are you?!"

"Milo!"

Orange again.

He heard the eerie groans of chains rattling and sliding, which gave him a very bad feeling, but he couldn't see anything. Why was it so dark?

"Melissa, keep talking!" he yelled into the void, his feet pounding on the concrete beneath him. Or was it not concrete anymore? It felt uneven, like it might be rock—

Sure enough, as soon as he had the thought, he tripped and went flying, tumbling head over heels against the hard ground.

"Milo!"

Milo gingerly pushed himself up to his feet, willing himself to keep going. His face must be hurt; it still felt numb from the blow. But he could deal with that later.

"Melissa!" he called back, running again, head whirling back and forth. Why was it so black? Didn't there have to be light somewhere?

Thunder boomed in the distance, earthshaking yet muffled—maybe it was outside? Was he still inside?

Windows, thousands of them, lit up dark blue against black as lightning flashed beyond. The window panes surrounded him, though they were hundreds of yards away, and were secured into mile-high walls he couldn't see.

Orange.

Milo stopped instantly that time, straining his eyes to see the color again, but it was gone.

And before he could form a thought, lightning stuck again, illuminating the silhouette of his friend suspended eerily in the air.

"Milo!" Melissa's voice called, but it wasn't coming from her silhouette. The lightning vanished, the shadow was gone, and he was running again.

Bricks flew by, doors came and went, and Milo's heart pounded harder than it had in a long time. He wasn't easily scared, no Murphy was. They couldn't be.

But what was happening to Melissa?

"M-Milo!" her voice came one last time, and he could hear that she was on the verge of tears. Milo's heart wrenched, and he froze, whirling around to try to see anything in this blackness.

"Melissa!" he shouted in panic, feeling fear creep up his insides and constrict around his chest. That color flashed by again, on and off so quickly he couldn't focus on it.

Orange. Orange. Orange.

Fear.

"Melissa! Melissa?"

ORANGE. ORANGE. ORANGE.

BLACK.

Panic.

"Melissa! Melissa!"

***

Milo jolted upright in bed, breathing hard.

Melissa! Melissa! his own deafening voice in his mind still yelled, so clearly and sharply that he was sure he was saying it aloud.

But his mouth was very dry, and when he tried to open it even a little, he found his tongue didn't want to move. Still shaken up, he reached down into a wooden box attached to his bed and pulled out a small glass of water. He gulped it down, almost more quickly than he should have.

But Milo then took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. He sat still for a moment as his body relaxed, closing his eyes hard again. Then with a hesitant hand, he opened his eyes and tucked the plastic cup back in the box where it belonged.

Okay, Milo told himself internally, rubbing his tired eyes as he crossed his legs to sit better. It's okay, self. Everybody's okay.

Just a bad dream.

But... what if it trying to tell him something?

No, he thought, shaking his head sleepily. That was silly. Dreams couldn't actually do that, right?

Right. It was a silly idea.

...But you could never be too safe, right?

He quickly pulled himself out of bed, carefully scaling down the ladder down from his bunk. His cell phone sat on his desk in its crushproof overnight case, so he hurriedly pulled it out and climbed back up to sit on his bed.

Milo opened the messages, quickly selected the last person he'd texted, and opened the conversation. For a moment, his fingers hovered uncertainly over the keys, but with unsteady fingers, he then began to type.

Hey, Melissa? I'm super sorry; it's really late, but... nothing bad happened to you tonight, did it?

Milo swallowed, calming his nerves, before gingerly pushing the send button.

Instantly, he felt dumb for asking such a silly question. Melissa was probably perfectly okay. And now he'd sent her a message at... what was it, two in the morning? And for what? A bad dream?

Well... As guilty as he felt about possibly waking his friend up, he had to make sure she was okay.

Milo sat on his bed for a long few minutes, staring distantly at his floor. Miraculously, not a picture fell off the wall or a tree crashed through his window. Not even a lightbulb fell out of his ceiling light.

At first, the only sound was that of the occasional car outside, humming lowly as it drove by—first softly, then loudly, then softly again, until the noise faded into silence.

But then, the phone lit up and bleeped.

Milo quickly grabbed it and opened his texts, eyes hurriedly scanning the screen.

Actually, yeah, something did happen. I woke up in the middle of the night because I got a text from my best friend. It was terrible. ;P

Another bleep.

I'm just kidding, Milo. Don't worry about me, I'm totally fine! All chilled out in bed right now, actually. But thanks for checking up. Really nice of you!

Milo's tense frame finally relaxed, and despite feeling bad about waking his friend, he couldn't help but smile at her words. She always did know how to make him feel better, didn't she?

His phone blipped again.

How about you? You okay?

Milo glanced away from his phone for a long moment. It was dark in his room, and he couldn't see his floor very well, so he didn't try to focus on it. He was busy thinking.

Finally, he hesitantly typed an answer.

It was... just a bad dream, I guess. I'm okay, though! Thanks for asking. Sorry about waking you up.

His phone blinked again.

Aw, sorry bud... Those are rough. It's okay, though, and you'll be too—it'll get better! <3 Wishing you a good night's sleep so you'll be rested up for an awesome day tomorrow!

And don't you even apologize! You know you can text me whenever, goofball. ;P

A grin slowly crept into Milo's face, and he replied.

Aw, I know. Thanks, Melissa.

Heh, no problem. Are you gonna get to sleep alright, or should I send you bad jokes until get -TIRED- of them? ;)

Haha! No thanks; I think I'm okay. xD Probably shouldn't stay up texting on a school night...

Ha, yeah, probably shouldn't. Weekends, though... BEWARE ;) Well goodnight then, Milo! Sweet dreams, you hear? Or else!

Milo chuckled softly despite himself.

Well, if it's an or-else situation... sure! I'll see what I can do. XD Goodnight, Melissa!

You bet it's an or-else! ;) Goodnight!

Milo sat cross-legged on his bed, staring off at nothing in particular for a good long while.

It's okay, he reassured himself, though he already felt much, much better. The dim light from the streetlamps outside just barely illuminated a photo that hung framed on the wall—one of him and Melissa, finally getting to pose for a backyard picture on his ninth birthday.

His gaze rested on the picture for a moment. He was beaming happily, seeming to pay no mind to the crocodile jaw-shaped bite out of the corner of his vest or the rosebush scratches on his legs.

Melissa was grinning also, and had managed to get almost all the duck feathers out of her hair in time for the picture. All but one, a feather that was barely noticeable... that was, if you hadn't been the one to pull it out for her.

Diogee—still a puppy at the time—was bouncing happily between them, ears flapping merrily and tongue hanging out. He and Melissa were both looking down at the dog out of the corners of their eyes, trying and failing to not get distracted during the photo.

Milo smiled, and his gaze fell down to his bedroom floor.

She's okay, he reminded himself. A comforting warmth swept over him, and for a minute he was content to merely sit on his rumpled covers and relax.

Then, his phone blinked again.

Psst. Milo. Don't reply to this if you fell asleep.

Milo couldn't help the smile pulling at his face. With the tiniest of playful smirks, he replied to his friend.

zzzzzz... zzzzz..... huh say what now?

His phone blipped with a response.

Hahaha. Give it up for Milo Murphy, the one and only trip-, fall-over, and stand-back-up comedian! He'll be here all week, folks! Let's give 'im a round of applause! Yeah! Whoooo!

Milo chuckled sheepishly, but before he could begin typing, another message came.

Quit it, you're making me feel bad for texting you again. xD Sorry, my brain woke up and all of the sudden I HAVE ALL THESE IDEAS AT TWO IN THE LITERAL MORNING. LIKE WHAT GIVES.

.....Is it okay to text you for a bit? Totally fine if it's not! You're probably tired.

Milo went to reply, but again, his friend's unrealistic typing speed beat him to the punch.

WHO AM I KIDDING MILO, NEVER MIND YOU ARE A MURPHY AND ABSOLUTELY NEED YOUR SLEEP. Ah, sorry; guess my brain's not actually as awake as I thought. Don't mind meee

This time, Milo worked extra diligently (with his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, if you must know) to answer as quickly as he could.

Oh no, it's okay! I'd love to text you! I... don't think I was going back to sleep very quickly either, to be honest. xD (Really sorry for getting you all woken up! My fault!)

Another text flashed onscreen.

Well, are you sure? And I mean seriously sure? Don't want to keep you up... (NUH-UH. NOPE. I WOULDA BEEN PERFECTLY FINE IF I HADN'T THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO GO DOWNSTAIRS AND GET ONE OF THOSE CLASSIC MILK-AND-COOKIE SNACKS. THAT WAS A BAD IDEA.)

(What's with those, anyway? Are people -trying- to get themselves all awake on sugar in the middle of the night?)

Milo chuckled, smiling in agreement as he replied.

I'm very, very, super sure! No, you won't be keeping me up! I've been asleep since eight-thirty, I think; I can handle it! :D (...That's actually a really good question, about the cookies.)

His phone bleeped one more time. He turned the volume down to mute, because for the next while, he wouldn't need to be hearing the noise to know he got a message.

Okey-dokey... are you ready for something big? And scientifically impossible? Here goes. Brace yourself:

I HAVE THIS THEORY....

ABOUT THOSE TWO GUYS WE KEEP SEEING SELLING PISTACHIOS.

Milo grinned and sank back onto his pillow, eyes sparkling in the white glow of his phone's screen.

Ooh! Those guys are mysterious, aren't they? What's your theory?

Mercifully, for the entire rest of the night, absolutely nothing went wrong. In fact, Milo's smile wouldn't go away, even after he finally bade his friend goodnight and nestled in under his covers.

And when he closed his eyes and drifted off, the only things Milo dreamed of this time were adventure and laughter and his best friend.

***

A/N: WHOOP WHOOP! Ah, the amazing feeling of completing a chapter can compare to little else. It's like standing on a beachside cliff with the wind blowing in your hair, or sitting on the roof watching the world while drinking a milkshake, or... Okay, there's a lot of things you can compare it to. But still, it feels like such a nice accomplishment. xD

I really wanted to tack another line on at the end ("Well, that... and pistachios."), but the story did not need that line. Oh well. Someday I'll write something where the last word can be 'pistachios'.

This was written... I think I started right after Rooting for the Enemy first aired? Almost a year ago? Chronologically it could take place anytime before Missing Milo, though. I really wanted to have it finished before Milo learned about Dakota and Cavendish, but I'm late for that!

Anywho, thanks for reading! Stay tuned!