Sleepers: ficlet

Burble rolled over on her bed - but it wasn't really a bed, was it? More of a pile of clothes, a heap if you will. Looking up past the boys' hammock through the roof, she stared at the stars; their soft glow always comforted her after a bad nightmare such as this one, wiping away the doubt and shame that had followed her since the night of her family's death.

She'd been trying to save them, to make any noise through the haze of smoke that was choking her, cutting off her air and scraping her throat raw. Her mind was racing but up on blocks, going in circles of panic and despair. Of course this was the one night her parents were out, had locked her baby sister's room, had shuttered the windows and promised her that they'd be back, but they were, they had to be, what was happening, why was the roof caving in, who were the men in red and black armor, why did-

"Burble, shh! What's wrong?" Slither, her informal elder sister, looked over from her pallet. "Nightmares again?"

"Yeah. Same old, same old...you'd think I'd be used to it by now." The familiar blush was creeping over her cheeks, wouldn't it just go away for once? But it was dark, perhaps mid-night, or heading towards early morning.

"Wuzzat? Gah, Burb, go back'ta bed. Got enuff t'do in th'mornin wivvout not 'nuff sleep'ta think right."

"Shut'cher trap, Blink. Don'cha got bad dreamin's yerself a'times?" Nodd, the brothers' sister, still held her platypus-bear doll close, as she had for years. In fact, no one could remember a time when it hadn't been draped over her arm, the abdomen nearly worn through from years of love. "Din'cha ever wakey all sweaty cus'a the pictures? Minds is weird, I's tellin ya." She was the philosopher of the trio.

"Guys, quiet. I'm sorry I woke everyone up. Just please, go back to sleep." The urgency in Burble's raspy voice hardly took the others by surprise, but they did as asked without much grumbling. No one wanted to deal with the inevitable, and perhaps they could stave it off if he wasn't awake. They thought they were safe, as the next minute or so was greeted merely by cricket-cicadas and the thrumm of fireflies' wings. Until, of course, right on cue, the third of the "T'rrible T'ree" sat bolt upright, knocking his brother off their hammock.

"Buuurble hadda niiiiiiightmare, Burble's a scaaaaredy..." Winkey's signature singsong tones countered his demeanor rather well - a pure, fluid tenor made for a choir of angels, warped by a rude boy who nearly matched Bones for inhumanity. He could take any complement and turn it into the most scathing comment, and what he did to taunts made even Skillet blush and Sneers wince. Nothing in particular was wrong with them, but the delivery, the total lack of any mercy or caring in his stance...Jet had only let him stay because the other two went with him, and despite his, ah, eccentricities, he was a rather decent fighter. Never lost his head, that one.

Even just waking up, his calculating mind went for the gold.

"Does da Burbley wanna hug? Remind 'er ovver mummy. Ever'body lurves they parents, no?"

"Wink, stop it. You know that's hardly decent. Now go to sleep." But even Slither couldn't halt him for long.

"Ooh, scarey! Slitty wan'sa me'ta go ta slee-"

A resounding smack echoed through the room. "Shut. The. Hell. Up. Wink."

"B-B-Burble? Was that you?" Blink finally sat up, startled into dropping his accent. He blinked rapidly, as he was wont to do, and collected his bearings, quite a feat for a swamp-raised 12 year old. "Ya... ya slapped Winkey...."

"Sh'slapped Winkey? An' I missed't? Naw, can't be!"

"Just sleep. Or I'll call Sneers in, and you know what he's like when he doesn't like something. Something like being woken up at an hour past mid-night to discipline you three."

"Yes'm, Slit." Oh, if only Nodd and Blinkey would stop talking in unison. At least Wink was getting old enough (if 14 was old) to recognize it didn't really annoy people as much as he'd like, and so he didn't any more. Good to know life worked like that.

Soon enough, everyone but Slither was asleep, and she wasn't far from it. Not that she'd admit it, but she loved their little family in the Freedom Fighters' camp. Obnoxious, irritating, smelly, and downright awful, but hers to care for, and care for them she would.

Drifting into slumber, the cricket-bats chirping along their windy paths outside, she smiled and mentally thanked Jet once again for this second chance at a life.

--FINIS--