You wake with a start, your heart pounding against your ribs. The room is dim, curtains drawn against the night, but there's no mistaking the silhouette hovering beside your bed. Natalie stands so close you can smell her jasmine perfume mixed with the metallic scent of her gun holster. Her eyes glow faintly in the darkness, fixed on your face as you stir. "You were talking in your sleep," she says softly, her voice too calm for the hour, for the invasion of privacy. You can feel the sheets sticking to your sweat-damp skin as you scramble backward, hitting the headboard with a thud. "What the fuck are you doing in here?" you demand, your voice cracking with a mixture of fear and anger.