When I first started living with River, I used to have these really vivid dreams.

I could never break them down into 'good' or 'bad' because they always felt like little fragments of memories pulled from deep within my subconscious, and that was the part that scared me about them.

Because some days, it got hard to tell the difference between the two.

Sometimes they were real-life recollections combined with my hopes and fears all in one, and I would open my eyes in the morning to the non-existent memory of being fifteen and driving back from the mountains in my parents' car, the moon following us, and the silvery voice on the radio singing: we'll be there someday, we'll be there someday, we'll be there someday, over and over.

Sitting in this cab and blearily watching the streetlights zoom past — the knowledge of Finch's new life slowly, carefully making home in the spaces between my ribs — it feels the same way.

Like this is a vivid dream and soon, I would gain consciousness to River's fingers rubbing soothing circles against my shoulder, and open my eyes to the sun bathing my sheets in a soft, muted dandelion that fades into white.

I was once told that some people can remain stuck at an age where they experienced a traumatic incident, and today I can hear the seventeen-year-old in me stealing all the air from my constricted lungs and breathing louder than ever.

I'm not sure if the cab driver — a stout man in his forties with salt and pepper hair — is a quiet person in general or if he had taken one look at my face and decided that he wasn't going to get a word in or out of me, but I'm grateful for his silence either way.

It feels like we're on a different street every time I blink; phone lying untouched on my lap, heavy from the weight of the new contact Meera added to it barely half an hour ago. I don't have a name for the feeling in my chest that makes me dig my feet deeper into my shoes, but when I close my fist as if that would allow me to hold on to it and learn its shape, I feel nothing but my own skin.

When the buzz of numbness inside my head begins to get loud enough to leave my ears ringing, I close my eyes and try to focus on the low hum of the radio even though I can't make out the words.

The drive back to the apartment seems to take both a minute and a million years at the same time, but when we finally stop outside the building, my mind continues to wander.

Thanking the man when I hand him the bills and greeting the guard at the gates is a quiet feat on my part. It could just be my imagination, but even the air around the place seems like it has stilled somehow, my footsteps echoing on my way to the elevator.

I fold my arms across my chest after hitting the button for my floor, losing my remaining strength in a flash now that I know that I can tuck myself into bed and deal with whatever mess my mind is in later.

The elevator stops at the first floor right as I'm about to sag against the mirror, and the doors slide open to reveal a young man I've never seen around the building before. I tuck myself into a corner and almost instinctively avert my eyes before my line of sight follows down the length of his arm to see his hand wrapped around a little girl's.

She follows him inside the elevator and looks up at me with the most striking blue eyes I've ever seen.

I return the man's smile of greeting with a nod, mustering up a half-smile for the kid.

When the door slides shut and the elevator starts moving again, I see her tug on his hand in my peripheral vision, and I try my best to keep a straight face when he leans down to her level to let her whisper in his ear.

My fondness for kids does nothing to take away from the fact that they can be brutally honest and terrifyingly bold sometimes, and there are days when I'm too scared to hear things that I might not be ready to hear.

I stiffen when I hear a light chuckle from him after she finishes talking, but before I can prepare myself for possible words of utter humiliation that might keep me up for the next four nights, the man responds to the kid in a stage whisper, "Should we ask?"

She seems to consider it for a moment before she cranes her neck, and her big eyes fix me with the most intense stare I have ever been on the receiving end of. I try to smile down at her again, but I'm sure it comes off a little tense.

Until she asks, with as much awe as a child her age can muster, "Do you eat all of your veggies?"

In a millisecond, my apprehension is replaced by confusion, and it must show on my face because the man lets out a low chuckle and says, "It's because you're very tall."

My shoulders visibly sag, and I can't help the tiny laugh I let out with my relieved exhale. "Mhm." I nod, and the smile that I direct at her this time comes a little easier. "How did you know?"

She reaches for her ginger ponytail and twists the end around her index finger, shyly averting her eyes. "My daddy always says I'll grow only if I eat all my veggies." The scrunch of her nose that follows the sentence makes pure, boundless affection unfurl in my chest.

"He's right," I tell her with as much solemnness as I can manage. When she doesn't look too fond of the answer, I add, "I don't always like them, but I want to be tall. So I had to."

"You can't stop now?"

I shake my head with a pout. "I don't want to shrink, you know?"

The lines that appear between her eyebrows almost make me laugh because I've never seen a kid that barely reaches my knees look this contemplative before, and then she looks up at the man beside her. "Uncle Noah?"

"Yes, honey?"

"What does 'shrink' mean?"

"It's when you become smaller."

She tilts her head to one side. "Like Jake from Adventure Time?"

"Yeah."

"So you have to keep eating them then?" She directs that question to me, and I nod again, barely covering my laugh with a cough when she adds a serious, "Ugh," at my response. "She's even taller than you," she tells her uncle, and my smile widens into a grin when she adds, "Maybe you should eat more veggies."

"Ah..." He looks at me like he's confirming that fact, his shoulders shaking a little, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip when the corners of his eyes crinkle with the laugh he's trying to hold back. "You're right, sweetheart, I should."

"Then I don't have to be tall. I can sit on your shoulders."

Tipping my head back to look at the ceiling, I breathe out a quiet laugh.

"Wow, so you've got it all planned out, huh?" he asks her.

"Yeah." She nods once, twice, and then one last time to herself before directing her blue eyes at me once again. "You're pretty," she states in a way one would when reading a headline off of the morning newspaper, entirely unaware of the way my eyes widen in surprise and an immediate dusting of pink appears on my cheeks. "Do they also make you pretty?"

"Uhm." I fiddle with the sleeve of my coat, trying to collect the scattered thoughts inside my head back in one place. "The veggies?"

"Yeah."

I blink a few times, resisting the urge to cover my cheeks when they grow warmer. "I think so."

"Oh."

There's so much disdain packed into that one word, that I almost feel bad. "You're very pretty, too," I tell her, and my chest just blooms with warmth when she directs a big, toothy smile at me that almost makes her eyes disappear. We're almost at my floor and presumably about to go our separate ways, so I ask her, "What's your name?"

"Chloe."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Chloe," I tell her. "I'm Sky."

She tilts her head to one side in thought again, and just as the doors slide open, she asks me with all the seriousness in the world, "Because you're tall?"

The words make a surprised laugh bubble up my throat, and the last remaining knot in my chest loosens somehow. "Yeah." I smile at both of them on my way out, because the weight on my shoulders seems to have disappeared for the time being.

With a last wave of goodbye, I make my way to my apartment as the doors slide shut behind me.

Small mercies, my subconscious whispers as I punch in the code and push my way inside, closing my eyes for a second and remembering to breathe in slowly through my nose, and then out through my mouth.

The light comes on with a click to reveal an empty living room — no clattering noises or the smell of fresh food wafting from the kitchen, no sound of laughter from the TV, no extra pair of shoes at the threshold to signal someone already waiting inside.

I take my coat off and hang it behind the door, slipping out of my shoes with my head down.

Wiping the moisture off my eyes with the back of my hand, I drop all my belongings at the coffee table as I make my way into my room.

"Small mercies," I whisper to the quiet house.

a/n

i've been writing a lot these days and trying to take better care of myself :')

i've left the comments from the old draft up so don't get confused! the chapter is still (partly) new. i hope you're all safe and warm. thank you for reading <3