A/N:

This is the prologue to my very first story - I have doubled and tripled checked, but I may have missed something, so I apologise in advance. I've rated this M already, as I've already planned the story and it will get quite angsty/M like in further chapters, just a warning :-)
Also, I am trying to keep everyone as in character as possible, let me know if something one of them does doesn't quite sit right. Next chapter should hopefully be up tomorrow, or sooner if I can.
Please, please, review, constructive criticism wanted - anything to improve the story. Apologies for the short length of this chapter, but it is only a prologue, so this one and the next one are fairly short, setting the scene as it were, but it will be worth it in the end :-)

I am also looking out for anyone willing to Beta the next chapter before it goes up, so drop me a message if you're interested. Enjoy!

denouement-resolution

Running.

She was running, faster and harder than she'd ever run before in her life, her bare feet pounding on the cold, hard earth. She stole a glance behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of her pursuer.

Nothing.

Only gloom. Not even a sound.

Yet, somehow, she knew she was being followed. It was a feeling, the shiver running up her spine, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. It terrified her.

Increasing her pace, she flew across the ground, eyes straining in the near darkness. Suddenly, a few metres ahead, the ground seemed to disappear from view, the bare, brown earth vanishing in front of her.

Stopping as abruptly as she could, she fell to the ground, bare feet slithering on the soil as she struggled to prevent herself from going further forward.

Standing on shaking legs, she moved closer to the edge, where the ground had been only moments before. Toes curling around the edge of the ground, she stared.

She was standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground falling away into a cavernous darkness. It was a darkness unlike anything she had ever seen, as black as pitch, that seemed to carry on forever. She could see no opposite wall, and when she looked up, she saw no ceiling, no roof of any description.

She was standing on the edge of a drop; a drop into what seemed like the very mouth of hell, and all she could see was gloom, apart from the brown soil that she stood on. She could hear nothing, smell nothing, see nothing.

Then there came a sound behind her. Only one, but it was enough.

One single footstep.

She felt all the hairs on her body stand on end, and only then did she realise she was naked. She wasn't wearing anything, only standing, vulnerable and totally exposed, caught between the complete and utter darkness of the fall, and that footstep.

Another footstep. Then another.

Closer and closer the sound came, first slowly, then increasing in speed, in loudness.

They were coming closer and closer, coming for her.

Frantically, she searched for a way out, glancing hopelessly from side to side, seeing only the edge of the precipice extending out of her field of vision. In front of her, the footsteps were coming closer, almost within range of her sight.

Without thinking, she stepped backwards, and her foot slipped off the edge, the ground crumbling away beneath it, the clods of earth falling into that immense darkness. Righting herself quickly, she was just in time to see the soil disappearing forever.

Behind her, the footsteps were even closer, almost there.

The choice had already been made for her. She knew, knew without even having to think, that she did not want to see what was behind her, that nightmare waiting for her, the footsteps following her.

Closing her eyes, she stepped off the edge, giving herself up to the hollow darkness of the fall.

—-

Molly Hooper woke with a jolt, her heart pounding.

She could still feel herself falling, the terror she felt at the endless blackness swallowing her whole.

She sat up in bed, raising a shaky hand to push strands of her thick brown hair off her face. Her forehead and whole body was slick with a cold sweat, and her breath came in short, shuddering gasps.

Pushing the sheet off herself, she sat cross legged in her pajamas, resting her head in her hands. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, and attempted to return her speeding heart rate to normal. She was a doctor, after all. She was sensible, and it had only been a nightmare.

Nothing more.

At least, she hoped so. She had been getting these nightmares every night for a month now, the same dream every night. Glancing to her bedside table, she saw the alarm clock glowing in the gloom of her bedroom. 2:47 am. The same time every night, too.

Molly was no fool, she knew that dreams were supposedly linked to your mind, your experiences, the things you loved and feared. She knew also, that recurring dreams were especially significant, especially ones that progressed, as hers had.

At first, she had merely been running, she knew not why, or where she was running to, she had just woken up, forgotten about it, and gone back to sleep. When the same dream returned the next night, it was a little different. She ran farther, and with an increased sense of urgency, and awoke that night with a feeling of dread.

Eventually, about a week in, she realised she was being pursued. A week later, she reached the edge, and the footsteps began. They came closer every night now, and every night she waited just a little bit longer before throwing herself off the edge, giving in to the fall.

Molly knew that it was only a matter of time before she saw to whom the footsteps belonged to, before the dream reached the final scene. Of course, she could seek professional help, see a psychiatrist, someone who would know what to do, but that was out of the question.

Molly never had been one for talking, at least, not about her emotions, or her thoughts. She hated the idea that people could know things about her, could have even the tiniest bit of control over her life. To prevent this, she never told anyone anything, no matter how small. Whenever she did, it inevitably ended up with her being hurt, or being left even more alone than she already was. Even relationships were out of the question. Sure, she had attempted them before now, even progressed to it being considered 'serious'. As always though, they crumbled; the other furious at her lack of trust.

Molly sighed, and rubbed her eyes in frustration. Seeing anyone about the dreams was out of the question, then. Besides, what could she say? She knew that the running was probably out of some fear, the nakedness would show some 'vulnerability of her person', that the progress of her dream would show that she would have to face her fear. Molly knew this much, but not the fear, not who the person chasing her was. This was what she was consumed by. She needed to know. Had to know, longed to discover. At the same time, she was also terrified to know. She had a feeling, deep inside, that everything would change, as soon as she saw him, saw her hidden watcher.

After all, she had her suspicions. She had been having the dream for nearly a month now.

Almost a month since that day at St. Barts.

Almost a month since he fell.