This is a story of fiction, all resemblances (dead or alive) are eerily coincidental. Everything in the story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between males, if you are not supposed to read it then don't. Feel free to e-mail me.
- V -
He woke up just a little before noon and stretched sweetly without opening his eyes. He didn't dream of Desmond or of anything that happened in his past after he dozed off at eight in the morning. As he predicted, he dreamt of Julian instead, and those dreams he more than welcomed. He yawned and finally opened his eyes, blinking the last shreds of sleep out of his eyelashes. He lay in bed for a little while longer, inhaling Salamander's scent from one of the pillows, and then finally, he sighed and got out of bed, heading for the shower.
He spent a good hour in the shower, enjoying hot water and the feeling the running streams delivered to his somewhat sore muscles. After he got out and was brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection, he immediately remembered about the painting. He swore softly and spat out the toothpaste, rinsing out his foaming mouth. He completely forgot about the damn painting, he thought with frustration. He never even mentioned it to Julian last night.
He sighed and turned off the water. Well, he thought solemnly while wiping his hands and face on the hand towel. He will definitely say something about it when the blond comes back tomorrow. Then he realized that he would have to spend this night alone (a thing that hasn't happened to him for at least seven months by now) and that made him swear softly yet again. He sighed once again, turned off the lights, and walked out of the bathroom. He headed towards the closet, ignoring unmade bed and messy sheets -- someone would clean it, he knew that. It was Friday, which meant that the entire staff was here since 9:30 in the morning.
He never felt bad or guilty for leaving a mess; Julian was a surprisingly good employer. He would never harass any of his staff members with something other than work-related matters (the blond didn't believe in mixing business with pleasure), and the pay he provided was rather generous.
Raven got dressed quickly and left the bedroom, wincing slightly when his stomach growled quite urgently. He went into the kitchen, knowing that breakfast was waiting for him by now. Well, brunch, to be exact, he thought after throwing a quick glance at the clock -- it was 1:20 in the afternoon.
He was right -- he overindulged on eggs, bacon, and pork chops rather soon, and after his stomach started purring its thankful serenades, he grabbed a mug full of coffee and headed towards the office. He plopped in the chair in front of the computer, while turning on the sleeping gadget.
...Several hours later, Raven finally straightened up and muttered something under his breath. Julian was right -- this particular ability was ridiculously rare. All Raven was able to find were some vague descriptions that didn't really describe anything ("...Dream world is a shadowy territory that is haunted by darkness, the darkness that one called manipulator is able to recognize.")
The only somewhat useful thing he found was a short paragraph on one of the obscure-called web pages. "The manipulator is not recognized by a dreamer," the paragraph said. "It is connected to several factors, one of them being the fact that the manipulator is always invading the events of the past when the dreamer had no knowledge of them yet. However, as to every rule, there is an exception, i.e. the bond."
That was all it said. The rest of the article said nothing more about the entire matter. Raven re-read that short paragraph several times, trying to see if he missed something. Finally, he tutted with annoyance and got up, stretching his arms vigorously.
"The bond?" he thought with a frown. "What kind of a bond? I don't share any bonds with him... The only person I would be bound to would be Julian, not Desmond... Dammit," he sighed and turned off the computer.
He made a mental note to self to tell the blond about what he found tomorrow when he comes back, and headed towards the study, wondering whether anything else vanished from his painting. Once he got to the study, he immediately jerked the curtains apart, welcoming the sunlight. Then he stared at the painting. It seemed to be the same, the reflection of the phantom exist still missing from that particular mirror.
Raven sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets without taking his eyes off the painting. He concentrated on the mirrors, scanning every single one of them slowly with his eyes, and he didn't pay much attention to the woman in the blue dress. When he finally did look at her rigid figure, he blinked several times quite rapidly, and then he started cursing again.
Ever since he got the painting, one of the things that intrigued him was the woman's posture; the certain angle of her neck and shoulders that prevented any mirror from reflecting her face. Well, right now, her posture seemed to be the same, except now Raven could clearly see her shadowy profile in the mirror on her left, as if she moved somehow, turned her head ever so slightly, letting the mirror catch her features.
He stared at that profile dumbfoundedly, noting the sharp, somewhat long nose, fragile outline of the mouth, and a high, worriedly arched eyebrow. He looked at the painting for several long minutes, almost expecting that woman to turn her head towards him (a thing that would freak him out, to say the least), but nothing happened.
"Goddamn..." he muttered and almost touched the dark canvas with his fingertips. He drew his hand away at the last second, deciding to leave the damn painting alone for the time being. "What are you...?" he whispered without looking away from that dark-blue dress.
The painting remained mute and lifeless, just like any normal painting would. Raven shook his head and took a step back. He was about to jerk the curtains back together before leaving the study when someone rang the doorbell. He frowned and cocked his head to the left just a bit, listening intently, knowing that the butler would open the door. He wondered who rang the bell. He stood like that for a couple of minutes, and when he didn't hear anything else, he frowned, left the curtains alone, and went to the front door.
The door was locked, and there was no sign of the butler. Raven's frown looked almost comical by now. He unlocked the door and swung it open. There was nobody there, not a single person in view. Raven shut the door slowly and turned around, trying to figure out if he was having auditory hallucinations.
"Is everything all right, master Delamorte?" someone asked in a careful voice, and Raven looked up.
"I thought I've heard someone ring the doorbell," he said with the same thoughtful frown, and the butler immediately shook his head, his expression as cautious as before.
"Nobody rang the bell, master," he said with wary respect.
"Thank you, Sebastian," Raven muttered absent-mindedly and walked towards the bedroom, cursing silently. He is hearing noises now, that's just great!
...He kept himself somewhat occupied with several movies and more computer-browsing (hell, he even succumbed to online solitaire!) until 8:30 in the evening, trying not to think about the empty bed he would have to deal with tonight. Finally, he couldn't handle any more cards or television screen, and after glancing at the clock and thinking that there was no way in hell he would be able to fall asleep this early, he marched into the main bathroom and opened the large mirrored cabinet where he knew Julian kept his medical treasures.
He dug through the cabinet for a minute or two, and finally, emerged with a medium-sized plastic container in his hand. He opened the container and shook two little green pills onto his palm. He threw them into his mouth, crushed them with his teeth absent-mindedly, shoved the bottle back on the shelf, and closed the cabinet. He was on his way to the bedroom, when all of a sudden, the floor felt alive underneath his feet, and then everything around him swayed with lazy grace.
Raven immediately recognized the effect of the drug, except now, it was much quicker and stronger.
"I guess crushing them wasn't a brilliant idea," he thought hazily about those green pills, marveling at how fast they kicked in. Usually, it took fifteen minutes, give or take. "Well," he shrugged carefully and pushed open the bedroom door. "At least I'll be out until morning..."
That was true -- those little pills were ridiculously and unexpectedly strong. Raven would have at least seven hours of sleep, if not more.
He swayed his way to the bed and fell down on it, without even bothering taking off his clothes -- tonight it didn't matter.
When he opened his eyes, at first, he thought that he sleepwalked somewhere, which was bizarre and disturbing -- he never sleepwalked in his entire life. He was about to start digging in his pockets for his phone (he always had his phone on him; well, always when he was dressed, that is) when he heard tired and gloomy:
"Not again..."
He recognized that voice immediately and squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds.
"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered through his clenched teeth, opened his eyes, and turned around.
Desmond's expression was all but kidding. He let out a heavy sigh, staring at the brunet without blinking.
"Why are you following me?" Raven demanded angrily.
"I am not following you," Desmond answered darkly, and Raven narrowed his eyes.
"I beg to differ," he nodded stiffly. "I do not remember inviting you into a single one of my dreams; yet, here you are...! Again," he added after a few seconds.
Desmond muttered something under his breath, and Raven could care less about clarifying what it was.
"I am not doing it on purpose," the green-eyed man said unwillingly.
"Then learn how to control your damn ability!" Raven said sharply, and Desmond blinked at that. "Yeah," Raven nodded. "Julian figured it out after I told him that you keep popping up in my dreams. Well," he shrugged. "Sort of figured it out, I suppose... He wasn't sure. But I see that he was right... When did it hit you?" he asked with a shadow of interest, and Desmond sighed.
"Three months ago," he said gloomily. "Believe me, I keep trying to figure out how to control it; it doesn't seem that it's even possible," he shook his head with frustration. "It's like I am not even in charge of it! I have no clue whose dream I am going to end up in, and I have no clue which event I am about to witness... It seems to be completely random...!"
"Great," Raven muttered darkly. "Why the hell do you keep dreaming about me though?"
"I don't know," Desmond answered forcefully. "I also can't figure out how it is possible that you recognize me every bloody time!"
"Yes," Raven agreed with that, deciding not to mention anything about the paragraph that he found earlier. He wanted to let Julian know about it first. "That's why Julian wasn't sure about the ability theory; he said it's not how it supposed to work."
Desmond grimaced in the impatient, stubborn manner, which Raven recognized from four or so months ago when he saw him for the last time in that hospital.
"How's the mind-reading thing?" he asked with genuine curiosity, and the green-eyed man threw him a quick glance.
"That one is fine," he answered somewhat shortly and looked around with narrowed eyes. Then he frowned.
"What?" Raven sighed and looked around as well. "Where are we?" he copied Desmond's frown without even noticing it. The black-haired man blinked at that.
"How the hell would I know?" he said slowly. "This is your dream..."
"I have never seen this place in my life," Raven looked at him seriously.
"Maybe you don't remember..." Desmond started, and Raven interrupted him.
"No," he shook his head. "I have never been here before... I don't even know where `here' is."
"If this is just a random dream..." Desmond muttered mostly to himself. "...and not an actual event, then what the hell am I doing here...?"
Raven closed his eyes for a second, feeling more and more frustrated with each passing minute. This entire ordeal started to get on his nerves.
"Then get out," he said sharply and opened his eyes. "Get out and maybe I would be able to wake up..." Then he remembered those little green pills and gritted his teeth with helpless fury. He wouldn't be able to wake up for at least several more hours, thanks to those pills. It seemed like he was pretty much stuck in this bizarre dreaming reality for now.
"I can't," Desmond said slowly, glancing around yet again. "This is strange... There is not a single ripple!"
"Ripple?" Raven repeated, having no idea what he meant.
"A month ago, I figured out how to escape a certain dream," Desmond explained somewhat patiently. "There would always be at least one..." He paused. "...ripple," he nodded slowly. "That's what I call it. Looks like trembling air, like it's trying to shimmer... Anyway, I realized that if I go through that ripple, it would take me somewhere else. I would never know where I'd end up, but some dreams are definitely worth that risk..." He threw a quick, dark look at Raven. "Like your dream last night..." he muttered. "I did *not *want to witness that... Sorry for leaving you like that, by the way," he added after a few seconds, throwing another quick glance at Raven.
The brunet looked around again.
"Looks like an opera house," he muttered, and Desmond blinked at the change of the subject. "The structure of the building," he answered Desmond's silent question. "It's the same as all of the opera houses Julian dragged me to... Plus, the posters," he added, nodding slightly at the old, half-ripped, almost colorless by now posters that rustled quietly in almost non-existent breeze.
Desmond looked at the pictures and words.
"I guess you right," he said slowly after recognizing a few names and titles. "Doesn't seem like anyone performed here lately though..." he looked at the dark, silent building. "Looks abandoned..."
The building indeed looked abandoned; the same mild breeze kept rustling dead leaves, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts all over its steps, mixing itself with a heavy, damp sensation that crawled from the wide open doors. Broken windows of what used to be a place for entertainment gawked at two lonely figures blindly like empty eye sockets.
"Try waking up maybe?" Desmond suggested, feeling that he did not like this place much, dream or not.
"I can't," Raven gritted his teeth. "I took two sleeping pills; I'll be out for at least a couple more hours."
"What kind of sleeping pills?" Desmond sighed.
"Don't remember the name," Raven shrugged. "Little green bastards."
"Noxum?" Desmond sighed again, knowing immediately which pills Raven was talking about; the smaller man was right -- those little green bastards as he called them would keep him under for a while.
"Sounds about right," Raven agreed and narrowed his eyes. "Are we alone here?" he muttered.
"That's what it looks like..." Desmond started saying, and suddenly, he stopped talking, pressing his mouth into a thin, hard line.
"What?" Raven asked in a low voice when the ex-assassin just stood there without saying anything.
"Something isn't right..." Desmond muttered and grabbed Raven's elbow. "Let's move."
They started walking towards a large old wooden post, which was shedding ripped posters and announcements.
"What is it?" Raven asked, pulling his elbow free. "And how do you know?"
"I have no idea and I always feel when something is off," Desmond muttered, glancing around warily. "I never question my intuition."
Raven remembered several stories about Specter's stunts and nodded silently. Yes, he thought. He remembered people saying that the man's intuition was downright mythological. He was thinking solemnly that it was a good thing Specter's famous intuition was still present in the dreamland, when all of a sudden, Desmond grabbed his shoulder and forcefully shoved him onto the ground. Raven almost kissed the dirty asphalt, bewildered, stunned, and pissed off, wincing at the unpleasant feeling in his right elbow where it made a hard impact with the ground.
"What the fu..." he started growling when something brushed through his hair swiftly, and then there was a soft `thud!' on the wooden post behind him.
He blinked, looked around, and shut his mouth. Right there, behind him there was a still trembling black arrow, pinning one of the old advertisements to the wooden post. Raven hissed a scrambled obscenity and rolled on the ground, making sure he keeps his head down, throwing his body behind the post and pressing his back hard into the bumpy surface.
"You sure it's not *your *dream?" he asked Desmond, who dove after him. "Nobody ever shot an arrow at me before..."
"It's not my dream," Desmond answered irritably. "I've never seen this place in my life!"
"Maybe you forgot..." the brunet narrowed his eyes.
"No," Desmond interrupted him as irritably as before. "I don't forget things... Now," he took a quick breath. "This is not an actual event, both of us are here, and someone just shot at us... I'd say, it's a trap," he nodded and looked at Raven.
"A trap?" the brunet repeated incredulously. "Who would..."
"No idea," Desmond interrupted him quickly. "And right now, I don't care! You need to wake up," he looked at Raven steadily. "Because the minute you wake up, I'll be out of here as well. You have to wake up!"
"I already told you..." Raven growled softly, and Desmond interrupted him yet again.
"Try it!" he demanded, and Raven let out an exasperated sigh.
"Fine..." he muttered and closed his eyes.
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