Log Date:
	7/18/99, 7/20/99, 7/23/99

Log Cast:
	Shenner, Webb

Log Intro:
	Webb's come over to Shenner's apartment to spend time with her on yet 
another of their mutual nights off -- and as seems to be the habit being 
established between them, once again they've utterly failed to watch a movie 
on the holo-player all the way through. But much though Shenner might wish 
otherwise, even the presence of a man potently attracted to her can't keep 
ghosts out of her sleep all the time...

----------
The holo-player has gone idle again, its projection winking out without 
  concern as to whether its audience had actually been paying attention. With 
  most of the lights in the apartment already deactivated, the light level was 
  already low; the one lamp in the living room has turned itself off, though, 
  its motion sensor having detected no signs of stirring from the two people 
  entwined in one another's arms upon the couch. In the midst of the darkness 
  and quiet that prevails in the apartment there are, however, no sensors that 
  are delicate enough to pick up the subtle change in respiration of one of 
  those entwined figures. Shenner frowns to herself in her sleep, her slender 
  form shifting in your arms, her pulse beginning to pick up in reaction to 
  what's flickering across her dreaming mind.

At about this point, Webb's eyes slowly begin to drift open, not so much 
  because he can sense any sort of distress in your dreams, but because of one 
  subtle little change in his environment. Namely, what has occurred, is that 
  while the two of you slept, somehow he ended up with a wayward lock of hair 
  (decidedly russet coloured at that) intruding into his slightly open mouth, 
  while other strands tickled at his nose. Now, there is only so long that one 
  can conceivably stay in slumber with these two influences acting upon him. 
  So, with a soft 'bleah', Webb extracts the hair from his mouth, then gently 
  gathers up the curtain of red hair, and pushes it aside so that it trails 
  across from the other side of your head, where it'll have a more difficult 
  time infiltrating its way into his face again and tickling him from his 
  slumber.

While you shift her hair, though, Shenner stirs in decided unease, her body 
  growing more tense in your embrace. A tremor wings its way through her free 
  arm, making her fingers clench up, and a tiny whimper slips out of her.

Okay, now that Webb is in some semblance of an awakened state, your own lack 
  of restfulness begins to draw his attention. Carefully, he shifts a little 
  as he reaches down to touch the underside of your chin, tilting your head a 
  little so that he can peer curiously at your face.

Distress is beginning to tighten Shenner's features, drawing her eyebrows down 
  over eyes squeezed tightly shut. Whatever is haunting her slumber grows in 
  intensity, making her shudder against you; since she doesn't have room to 
  toss and turn, she begins to shake all the more vehemently. Another small 
  noise, this one sharper and more ragged than the last, escapes her.

Webb's eyebrows arch faintly as he slides down a little so that he can more 
  directly gaze into your eyes, and begins to ask softly of you, "Shen?" 
  Seeing as nightmares are rather common among individuals in Webb's line of 
  work (the battle hardened ones at least) the distressed reactions are more 
  than readily apparent to him, and begin to draw out concern.

Shen's arm tries to flail out for something unseen, and a ragged cry bursts 
  out of her: "Paul?! K'chaiya?" Though her eyes are still squeezed shut, a 
  wild grief seems to have seized her expression, and she is now trembling 
  violently.

"Shen?!" inquires Webb again, with a touch more urgency in his tone once it 
  clearly becomes apparent that you are indeed experiencing something that 
  could be considered rather anguishing. "Wake up hon," his voice drifts back 
  towards a more gentle tone, perhaps suspecting that urgency in his tone 
  might only fuel the nightmares.

"Ke awen... ke awen maxx? K..." Right in the middle of babbling out these 
  words Shenner starts violently. Her eyes snap open, dark and wild and 
  unseeing, but something in your tone must have gotten through to her for the 
  next thing that she says is far less frantic -- but no less anguished: 
  "R-Rekkie?"

Webb breaths out a small sigh as he sees your eyes open, though it is hardly 
  one of relief as he can still detect the unhappiness in your tone. What to 
  say in such a circumstance is hardly something that is easy to readily come 
  up with. Hopefully, "Welcome back," doesn't sound too corny when he murmurs 
  it.

Shenner's body is still rigid in your arms, but slowly, comprehension trickles 
  into her eyes, near-black as they are in the darkened room. A faint sheen of 
  sweat on her brow catches and reflects back what little light there is 
  available. She swallows hard; then, her gaze focuses on you, her ears on the 
  sound of your voice. "Jon," she croaks.

Webb's eyes half-close as he kisses you lightly upon the forehead, before he 
  looks back down to your face again. No attempt is made to hide his concern 
  as he gazes down at the almost haunted expression that he saw upon your 
  face. "Shen..." he murmurs back to you as he runs his fingers delicately 
  along the side of your face, "You alright hon?"

"I..." Still shivering in the aftermath of the dream, Shenner sucks in several 
  breaths; her eyes flutter shut as you touch her face, and when they open 
  again, they are somewhat less wild, but still visibly unnerved. "Nightmare," 
  she mumbles unnecessarily. "I... I thought I had 'em licked..."

"Still haven't beaten all of mine," murmurs Webb in a sympathetic, distant 
  tone, "Memories can be tricky... you seem to have... some interesting ones. 
  You were talkin' in your sleep hon. I've been told I do the same thing 
  sometimes... when I actually sleep." He quirks a faint little smirk and 
  shrugs his shoulders. "Though eventually I developed a touch of control over 
  them. Wasn't easy by any measure..."

Shenner swallows again, hard, and begins to try to force her muscles to 
  unclench. "Yeah... yeah, I-I... know," she rasps out hoarsely, though to 
  what isn't exactly clear. "Rekkie... used to... try to help me out with 'em."

Webb murmurs back to you softly, "I... I could try..." before he swallows 
  faintly. Yeah, he might not be the most confident about that, after all, 
  occasionally he still ends up seeing crosshairs in his dreams, but he does 
  certainly sound very willing to give it a try.

A soft, edgy sigh; then, Shenner mutters embarrassedly, "I... th... thanks. I 
  ain't had one this bad in a while...." A residual shiver runs through her 
  frame for a moment, then she appends, "'Msorry I woke ya up..."

Webb emits a faint 'mmm' of comprehension and plants a kiss lightly upon your 
  forehead, then another just below your left eye, then another just upon the 
  corner of your mouth. "It's okay..." he murmurs, before he tilts his head 
  slightly and studies your facial features in the faintest light that filters 
  through the windows. His pupils are quite dilated so as to allow him sight 
  in these conditions, but there's still a ring of silver around each dark 
  pool. "Rather be woken up by you than wake up without you."

That softly uttered statement eases some of the tension out of Shenner's 
  system; a weak, tremulous little smile comes into being, curling her mouth. 
  "How... d'ya handle yours, then?" she whispers. Though she doesn't actually 
  thank you aloud, gratitude leads her to slide her arm back around you, 
  squeezing you tentatively.

Webb hmms faintly and considers that, "Well, for starters, sleeping with you 
  helps..." although that is said with a touch of light humour to his tone of 
  voice, before seriousness (although with a decidedly warm tone) sets in, 
  "Well, I once had a doc tell me to change my diet. I had another that 
  prescribed medication that would supposedly moderate the chemical triggers in 
  my brain, thus preventing the nightmare from ever forming. Impractical... 
  and the real solution had to come from the inside."

"Gotta face your fears to beat 'em," Shenner murmurs, sounding unsurprised.

Webb nods faintly and says, "Yeah, that much is pretty obvious, isn't it? 
  There's more to it than that though, obviously. But what it came down to is 
  that I had to treat it like any new enemy... analyze it, adapt, and 
  overcome." One corner of his lips curls up faintly as he explains, 
  "Sometimes it doesn't always work... that first morning I came to see you 
  and I woke up on your couch. For a moment I thought I was still at Endor. 
  But, there are tricks that work... it's still your mind, and nightmares, by 
  their nature, tend to follow fairly regular patterns. They can be 
  disconcerting at first, but then you can start to picture how you could 
  change them... fall asleep thinking about that. The more vivid of an image 
  you can build, the more likely you are to be able to change it..."

Shen listens to all of this, her body slowly settling down in your arms, her 
  head once more quietly nestled against your shoulder. When you're done, she 
  murmurs lowly, "I... figured out there was a pattern to 'em, after a 
  while... yeah. Rekkie taught me about keepin' a dream journal, see... tryin' 
  to write down everything I could remember the moment I woke up... didn't get 
  too... much at first, then I started rememberin' 'em better." She considers, 
  then adds plaintively, "You can change dreams?"

Webb slides down just a little more, generally brushing quite thoroughly 
  against the front of your body as he moves to kiss (of all places) the 
  underside of your chin before nuzzling against you tenderly, "You can adapt 
  to them... generally requires a lot of effort and introspection. Some of 
  mine I just got used to... some I kinda changed. I'd always get a lot of 
  visits from old friends in my sleep... torturous initially, but eventually 
  some things became kinda pleasant."

A little noise that might under any other circumstances be taken to be one of 
  pleasure creeps out of the young singer. Brushed against, kissed, and 
  nuzzled, she shivers and sighs... and then roughly whispers, "I... get 
  Mandalore."

Webb's eyebrows arch faintly upwards at the mention of that place, though 
  whatever surprise that word has provoked, it seems decidedly unable to 
  prevent him from planting yet another kiss, this time upon the front of your 
  throat, before he inquires, "Mandalore?"

"Went there," Shen whispers, her head arching backward a little in reaction to 
  that kiss. "Real... rough time."

"Ah..." murmurs Webb softly as he studies your throat before carefully 
  selecting the next spot upon which to place his lips as he softly murmurs 
  against your skin, "From what I've heard... it sounds like a real vacation 
  spot." That, of course, is a term that Webb has used on a number of 
  occasions to describe certain less than pleasant locales... like the area of 
  Trinumvira base which houses the Sickener.

"I..." Shen trails off a moment, beginning to be distracted by the attention 
  you are bestowing against her throat; her pulse flutters a moment beneath 
  your lips. When she continues, her voice is slightly hoarser. "I-I think it 
  musta nearly killed me..."

Webb seems uninclined to cease his kisses, even if the two of you are having a 
  conversation. He could be wrong, but from his observations, you seem to be 
  enjoying it. "You don't know?" he inquires as his lips zig-zag their way 
  over to a point on the side of your neck, before returning to your throat.

The redhaired musician shakes her head, or at least tries to; this is a 
  somewhat chancy proposition when her throat and neck are being attended as 
  they are. A shudder not entirely related to the old memory she has 
  experienced in dreams tonight courses delicately through her, and she has to 
  wet her lips beneath she can mumble huskily, "I don't... remember the end of 
  it. Never have..."

Ah, this is a decidedly crafty strategy that Webb has implemented, attempting 
  to keep you at ease by buffering whatever stresses the story might bring out 
  through kisses. Or, one /might/ interpret this as him rewarding you for 
  beginning to get the incident off of your chest. "Unconscious, or just memory 
  loss?"

Interpretation of the motives for smooching, at the moment, is not foremost in 
  Shenner's mind. "I dunno," she murmurs unsteadily, "I... remember bein' in 
  the crypt.... w-where we found the body... and then nothin', dead black, 
  t-till I woke up on Calamari..." Her hand comes up to slide into your hair, 
  burying itself as best it can in the short fair strands.

Webb's next question is, "Umm... why Mandalore?" with a decidedly curious sort 
  of tone. After all, it hardly seems like the kind of place that anyone would 
  go to on just a whim. Once the words are out of his mouth, you feel his lips 
  press against you again, this time upon the base of your throat.

This next few words come out of Shenner with the greatest reluctance. 
  "Paul..." That syllable by itself holds a wealth of barely suppressed pain. 
  "... was... lookin' for an artifact. He... let me... tag along. Didn't have 
  nowhere... else to be, and... I couldn't handle it..." She concludes with an 
  audible intake of breath, her fingers in your hair momentarily tightening 
  their grip.

Webb's next move is to pull the blanket up over the both of you, generally 
  dimming the light to levels where touch is the most reliable way to navigate 
  and to read each other's expressions... as well as various other features. 
  "Ever thought about going back?" inquires Webb, before you feel his lips 
  begin to travel lower down your frame to investigate your sternum.

Having the blanket pulled up over her, along with _that_ question clearly 
  startles her. "What'd I wanna do a damnfool thing like that... for... 
  mmmrmm..." It is impossible not to feel Shenner go unconsciously rigid at 
  the notion of setting foot on Mandalore -- but it is equally impossible to 
  ignore the way her chest tautens beneath your explorations.

Webb lifts his head slightly at that inquiry, displacing the blanket just 
  enough for a bit of light to filter through onto your face and his. "Hmm..." 
  he murmurs as he gazes across into your eyes, and touches his lips to yours. 
  Before he can become fully engaged in kissing you, he murmurs, "I don't 
  know... was mostly just curious. Some people eventually end up with the urge 
  to go back to where their trauma happened."

"Don't wanna--" That's all Shenner has time to say before your mouth fuses 
  with her own. Again, her frame goes taut with something that might be 
  suppressed fright... then you're kissing her, and she you. Her arms are 
  clinging to you because she has nowhere else to put them, and here in this 
  cocoon of blanket and Jonathan-embrace, she allows herself to acknowledge 
  the fear... because it is safe to do so.

Webb seems entirely devoid of objections to any reservations, or even towards 
  any outright fears that you might have with regards to reliving any 
  experiences to do with Mandalore. Of course, he's not exactly in a position 
  to continue his questioning, or one where he'd want to. Even deprived of 
  much in terms of light, his lips seem to have absolutely no problem locating 
  yours, and sealing tenderly against them as his arms tighten ever so 
  slightly.

It would be easy, very easy, to stay like this for oh, say, the next ten 
  standard years or so. She is warm and secure between the couch's back behind 
  her, your arms around her, and the blanket that enfolds you both, and as the 
  remnants of nightmare begin to be displaced by distinctly more appealing 
  sensations, a ripple of need moves liquidly through her system. "Never... 
  had this kinda... nightmare therapy," she manages to murmur into the 
  sheltering darkness, when she's once more able to pull in air.

Webb is quite intent upon banishing any remotely unpleasant feelings left 
  behind by the nightmare, and thoroughly replacing them with the previously 
  mentioned more appealing sensations which seem to ripple outwards from every 
  last point of contact between the two of you. "New technique... " he 
  whispers into your ear, "Call it sudden inspiration."

Shenner wants to rally back, to say something clever along the lines of 'Did 
  they teach you this in the Marine Corps, soldier?'. But what comes out of 
  her is a breathless, slightly overhigh "Good... technique..." That felt very 
  good, and that... that too... it occurs to her, though, that it might be 
  nice if she attempted something in the vein of what she is now receiving. 
  Still, her brain and body are not quite in tune with one another thanks to 
  the discord of dream, and the feel of your back beneath her blindly questing 
  palm only serves to heighten the feel of the front of you. Shenner presses 
  up against you, only to bend pliantly in increasing response to your 
  ministrations.

"So... you can move again?" inquires Webb quietly as he makes note of your 
  reactions to his touches, and seems to only be encouraged to wholeheartedly 
  intensify the caresses.

"It's comin' back to me," rasps Shenner, very close to your ear, close enough 
  that her breath tickles your jaw. 

[And with that, Shenner soon discovers that despite his having lavished his
  attentions upon her earlier that same night, Webb is quite capable of putting
  his military-trained stamina to a rather creative use... to wit, thorough
  implementation of his version of 'nightmare therapy'. End log.]