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Unconventional Methods

















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Blast From the Past
Fan fiction and fond (mostly) memories of soap days gone by


Unconventional Methods


Chapter Twelve

Luis held onto Sheridan until she fell asleep. The terror of the nightmare and the anguish of remembering Robert’s death had passed for now.

In the case that she might wake up again, Luis slept on the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Despite the position he was in, Luis fell asleep with ease.

He’d had the strangest dream that night. He and Sheridan were trapped in a painting. The scene that surrounded them was that of a beautiful garden. They weren’t alone, though. Behind them was a party filled with the people they loved. Only, those people weren’t real looking. They looked as if they, too, were painted into the scenery.

Suddenly, the whole scene faded and everything turned black. He couldn’t see anything, but he could feel Sheridan’s hand in his. Slowly, a light started to appear and they were back in the garden. This time, everything was real. The garden, the people...everything.

Just as he was turning his head to look at Sheridan, who was still holding onto his hand, he woke up.

Luis opened his eyes to the sight of Sheridan looking at him. She blushed and smiled lightly. He returned the smile. After stretching his body, Luis stood up.

"Thank you for staying in this room with me last night, Luis."

"You’re welcome."

"I, for one, am going to take a shower and go fix breakfast."

"You know what, Sheridan? Why don’t I make us breakfast this time? You take your time."

Sheridan was happy not to have to prepare anything. She couldn’t wait to see what kind of cook Luis was.

After a refreshing shower, Sheridan dressed and headed downstairs. She smelled sausage and pancakes. It was her favorite breakfast. She wondered ifhe knew.

Like Luis did that first night, Sheridan stood in the door of the kitchen and watched him cook. In a matter of minutes, they were enjoying breakfast. The pancakes were delicious. They had blueberries in them. She absolutely loved a good blueberry pancake.

"I could eat sausages and blueberry pancakes for breakfast every day, she told Luis.

Luis smiled. "Same goes for me."

"So, how did you sleep last night?" she asked before eating a piece of pancake.

"Last night... I had the strangest dream."

This peaked Sheridan’s curiosity. "Really? What was it about?"

She, too, had had a strange dream last night.

"Well, you and I were...we were in this painting."

Sheridan’s head shot up as she heard this. She’d had a similar one.

"A painting of a garden," she interrupted.

Luis’ jaw dropped to the floor. "And there was a party."

"Everyone looked as if they had been painted."

"Then there was darkness, then light."

"And after that everyone and everything was real," Sheridan finished.

They just stared at each other. The same dream. Nothing like that had ever happened to either of them.

"How did that happen?" Luis asked.

"I have no idea."

"Anything like that happen before with you?""


Silence filled the room. Both Sheridan and Luis wondered if they had some sort of unusual connection to each other that would cause them both to have the same dream at the same time. While wondering this, they didn’t realize that they were leaning their heads toward on another.

They shared a gentle kiss. It seemed to last forever, and they both had no desire for it to end. As luck would have it, the telephone rang. Reluctantly, they slowly ended the kiss.

"I’ll answer it," Sheridan whispered.

She got up to answer the phone. Luis cleared the table and carried their dishes to the kitchen. He had just finished placing them in the dishwasher when Sheridan appeared.

She had a grim look on her face. He held his breath, wondering what was wrong.

"What is it, Sher?" he asked in concern.

Sheridan started crying quietly. "There’s been another kidnapping."

"What?" he exclaimed.

"Brian Watts kidnapped another girl." Sheridan's face held a stricken expression.

"Sheridan. Who did he kidnap?"

"He took Clara," Sheridan told him, a shudder rocking her body as she began to cry. "He took my niece. Oh, God! He took Clara."

Luis quickly bridged the gap between them. He held her tightly as her cry turned into a sob. He tried to find words of encouragement; words that said everything was going to work out. But they didn’t come. For the first time in a while, Luis let his own tears fall. All he could think of to do was to hold her.





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