A/N: I didn't know if I should post this. Written for the AD weekly prompt: Insecure.

Sandry hated the dark. She felt confined, trapped, by the night. Shadows meant light. But darkness - she couldn't stand it at all. Being locked away for nearly a week when she was nine years old had traumatized her. Even now, four years later, she couldn't stand to be alone in the dark.

Tris, Briar and Daja crafted a night light out of a globe infused with magical properties for Sandry. Without it, Sandry couldn't sleep.

Briar was haunted at night. In his dreams, every face he saw was someone he couldn't help. They blamed him for their deaths. He screamed and screamed as blood poured over his body. Their blood. The blood of innocent people. He was swimming in a lake full of dead, bleeding bodies.

He woke, shaking. His bed was a mess. Sheets and pillowcases covered the floor. His pallet was askew and Briar found that half his body was on the floor.

Moving his mat, he crept outside. Laying down under a tree, he found comfort in the flowers and vines that wrapped around his body.

In his mind, he felt a shimmer of grey winds touch his shoulder gently.

I heard you scream.

Go back to sleep, he said gruffly.

You should really go see someone, you know. Talk to them about it. If you won't talk to us.

Before he could reply, she severed the connection.

He felt even more alone. Shivering, he closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

The grey connection opened again. You really shouldn't do that. You know what Rosethorn would say.

I'll deal with Rosethorn.

He could feel her scoff. You mean Rosethorn will deal with you.

He smirked at how right she was. But it didn't matter.

I can't sleep, either, she admitted.

The two were somewhat comfortable with each other. He was just glad to not be alone.

Being alone was unbearable. The nightmares got worse and worse. He could never be alone. Not at night.

Tris had never found a home. Even Number 6 Cheeseman Street was an impermanent address. Forget what her foster-siblings said.

She wasn't lovable. She was plump and prickly as a porcupine.

On the road, during their travels, Niko understood Tris's fears, try as she might to hide them. Niko was the one person she could open up to about everything.

The one person she most feared rejection from. Not her foster-siblings, and especially not Little Bear or Glaki. Not Keth or Dema, either.

Niko. It was always Niko who had her best interests at heart. It was also Niko who fueled her fears. She knew she couldn't stay with him forever.

She also knew she wasn't going to be allowed to live at Winding Circle. She wasn't going to take a Temple vow. She wanted more than that. She wanted to travel, she wanted to see the world and learn so many different things.

She wanted to go to Lightsbridge. She wanted to be normal. But she was a realist. Normality was not Trisana Chandler, merchant girl and weather-mage. A normal Tris would be a powerless Tris.

Tris was far from powerless.

And her power scared her. Even though she meditated daily and kept her hair tied up in braided coils specifically patterned for different types of weather magic, Tris feared what her power represented her as.

She could see such fears reflected in the eyes of the people they met. Novices and new mages avoided her. Experienced mages wanted to test her. Some thought she would turn to battle magic, having heard of what she did to Enahar's pirate fleet. Others believed she was making it all up. There hadn't been a wind scryer for centuries!

Sometimes, at night, Niko watched her and worried about her future. Would Tris really be able to flourish on her own? He decided that, for her sake, he would do everything he could until she had more self-confidence. If that meant sacrificing a few more years, so be it. Niko was very devoted to his charge. A fact many people took as interesting. Was Tris a weakness to world-renowned mage Niklaren Goldeye?

Tris's own power rivaled Niko's. Although this never bothered the man, some of his rivals found this enlightening. Rumours spread about the old man and his protegee. Nasty rumours. False rumours. Rumours abound everywhere, Niko thought.

But still, it bothered him slightly that people would talk about anything. Simply because he was a powerful mage.

His biggest fear was that Tris would find out about the rumours. He dreaded having that conversation with a practical person like her. He feared he wouldn't know what to say because he didn't want her to retreat even further into herself. He didn't want to see the love and affection she had shown him over the years diminish into coldness and isolation. He knew that if he lost her, she'd become a hurricane of emotions, like she had been the day he met her all those years ago when she had been an uncontrolled ten year old girl.

Daja had her own demons to fight.

Ben. He was there. In front of her. Kissing her.

Then, he was burning.

"NOOOOO!" she screamed, body jerking upright in bed. She was panting from the exertion of her tossing and turning. Large beads of sweat rolled off her stocky body.

Frostpine opened the door to her room and saw her shaking, crying, clawing at her own skin.

He ran to her side. "Sh! Shhhh!" he soothed, taking her into his arms. "It's alright, Daja. Everything's okay. Listen to me, you're safe now. You're home. You're all right."

"B-b-but, Ben..." she sobbed into Frostpine's shirt.

Frostpine could do nothing but sit there, with her on his lap, calming her until she stopped crying.

This was their routine. Until the nightmares stopped.

But would they ever stop?