It was a restless night for Murphy. She frequently had those while working on cases, and especially after Harry had been shot.
Tonight, she started out the dream in her parents' house. She was much much younger. Her hair was in braided pigtails and she was wearing her blue church dress that her mother had picked out for her.
She knew this one. She knew it was a nightmare, but there wasn't a damn thing to keep herself from going upstairs.
"Daddy?"
She climbed the stairs, still calling for him. He had to be in his office.
No, don't go in there, Murphy tried to tell herself.
No matter how much she willed herself not to open that door, she always opened it. The agony-filled scream always left her lips.
Usually, the scream was enough to wake her up.
Tonight, she wasn't that fortunate.
"Everyone you love dies," a voice that was like her father's minus the warmth that had characterized it in life whispered.
She stood over Greg's grave, her own words to Harry echoing in her mind.
"He didn't even tell me he was sick."
"You can try all you want, but you'll never quite be strong enough, or fast enough. You'll never be good enough to save them."
The scene changed again, this time to Thomas' boat. She had gone to a lot of trouble to pick out her outfit. She was wearing actual date clothes. She'd even taken the time to dab on a little bit of make-up and to put her hair up.
Her heels clacked against the pier as she approached the boat. Harry should have been out there, but she supposed that maybe he was inside. Maybe...
She stopped short as she saw the smear of blood. She drew her gun and approached more cautiously.
"Harry?" she called out as she moved closer.
Harry wouldn't be there. It was his blood. All that was left of her best friend was a blood smear and a bullet hole in the wall of the boat.
"In the end, you'll just be alone. No one to believe the things you've seen, no one to even care. Just you, alone with the nightmares."