Adrien made a soft sound, and slipped away again, back into one of her deeper cycles of sleep, the kind it was nearly impossible to wake him from, and he kept on for hours. It was part of the healing process, according to the nurses, but it could still be alarming.

He was very still, eyes moving behind his eyelids. Dreaming.

The nightmare came on gradually, bubbling up as a feeling rather than events. Things didn't hurt in dreams, but he could still feel the fear, the desperation, the echo of the impact.

He was flying. He was flying over the city at night, warm and breathless, filled with starlight and fire, breath stinging his lungs and laughter leaving him high-

And then everything crumbled beneath him. Broke away under his touch. Broke apart and rotted.

He fell.

Adrien thrashed in his sleep, lashing out blindly with a cry.