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.
- XXIX -
When Desmond finally made it home (it took him almost half an hour, since he agreed with Raven and stayed off the freeway), he frowned slightly when he saw an unknown to him dark-blue car parked next to the house. He pushed the garage-opening button and slowly wheeled the bike inside once the door slid open.
Raven got off the bike, glad for the fact that his hands finally stopped shaking. They walked into the house after shutting the garage door, and Desmond blinked when he saw Julian sitting by the desk in the living room, typing something in the decent size laptop, while murmuring into the headset attached to his ear. The blond looked up when he heard the door slam, and gave Raven a quick, small smile before shifting his gaze towards the laptop yet again.
"Whose car is that?" Desmond asked, and Julian covered the microphone with his hand.
"Mine for now," he said with a slight nod. "Rental," he nodded again. "I didn't feel like waiting for the driver every time I needed to go somewhere."
"I see," Desmond muttered, and the blond took his hand off the microphone, returning his attention to the computer.
"I don't know when I will be able to come back," Julian said into the microphone. "I ran into some rather difficult problems that need to be solved before I can leave; I don't know when I will find the solution... That's fine," he said after several seconds without taking his eyes off computer screen. "Go ahead and wrap up the deal... What did they add?" he frowned slightly after listening intently for a minute or so. "I see... Do you have a copy? Good... Go through that document step by step... Yes, the entire thing," he nodded slightly. "Not just the new addendums."
Raven sighed, knowing that it would take a while – he figured that Julian was talking about that merger of his, and it would probably be good two hours before the blond would take a break. He headed towards the kitchen and saw Desmond who was staring at the bag of coffee.
"That's the brand Julian usually drinks," Raven nodded, immediately recognizing the brand name, answering Desmond's unasked question. "He likes the taste of it."
"Huh," Desmond nodded, thinking that he liked this brand as well, except he didn't buy it too often – it was rather hard to find and was ridiculously expensive.
"I'll make some," Raven grabbed the bag out of the ex-assassin's hand and walked towards the coffeemaker.
"Knock yourself out," Desmond nodded and glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna go take a nap before Rayhe comes home..." He looked at Raven rather intently while the smaller man swiftly worked the coffeemaker. "Tell him..." he nodded towards the living room quickly. "...to shut you up, in case if you decide to start boning again."
"Sleep tight," Raven threw him a quick, serious look.
"That's the plan," Desmond sighed. "Just..."
"I'll be quiet," Raven rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell..." he muttered and returned his attention to the coffeemaker.
"Thank you," Desmond nodded energetically and went away.
Raven muttered something else under his breath and went into the living room, glancing at Julian who kept saying something into the headset, his fingers flying above the keyboard of his laptop. Raven walked closer to the TV and nodded with approval when he saw a pair of the headphones on top of it. He grabbed the headphones, plugged them in, and carefully walked towards the couch, wondering whether the cord was long enough. The length of the cord turned out to be perfect, and he plopped on the couch and reached for the remote control.
...A couple of hours later, Raven jerked slightly, startled by a sudden touch on the back of his neck. He pulled off the headphones and looked up.
"Done," the blond said seriously and slid onto the couch next to him.
"For the entire day?" Raven blinked – he expected Julian to take a break and get back to whatever it was that he was doing.
"For the entire day," the blond replied as seriously as before and buried his fingers in Raven's hair, leaning closer.
"Mmm..." Raven broke the kiss after several minutes. "Before we start... There is a hell of a story I need to tell you."
"Go ahead," Julian sighed without untangling his fingers from brunet's hair.
Raven grabbed the remote control and turned off the TV.
"Coffee's ready," he nodded, realizing that he completely forgot about the coffeemaker.
"All right," the blond sighed again and got up, finally releasing Raven's hair.
..."Do *not *leave the house again," Julian said sharply half an hour later, after Raven finished telling him the story.
"Don't tell that to me," Raven sighed darkly, and Julian narrowed his eyes.
"He can't go anywhere without you," he said without shifting his gaze. "And if you will say `no,' he can't force you... Do *not *leave the house again," he nodded. "I am not risking losing you," he added in a minute or so, and Raven's dark expression changed somewhat.
"I won't," he said quietly. He drank more coffee. "That's not all, by the way," he looked at Julian, whose expression became even more wary than it already was. "We finally figured..."
"Evening," Gabriel interrupted him, walking into the house, his face smile-free. "Where is Desmond?" he frowned and glanced around quickly.
"Asleep," Raven said, and Gabriel's shoulders relaxed somewhat. "Good that you are back," Raven continued. "You both should know this," he looked at Julian without a smile. The blond sighed and nodded silently. "By the way," Raven shifted his gaze back to Gabriel who looked like someone who expected to hear some really bad news. "We got ambushed by Magda today..."
Rayhe's eyes widened at that, and Raven nodded. He quickly told him the story he finished telling Julian several minutes ago, and when he was done, Gabriel stood still for a minute or so, his eyes narrowed, head cocked slightly to the left. Then his expression became more impatient and he frowned. A minute after he did that, Raven heard the door slam, and then Desmond walked into the kitchen, his green eyes throwing daggers at Rayhe.
"Bloody hell, Rayhe..." he grumbled. "Did you have to yell?"
"Yes," Gabriel nodded immediately. "I called you the normal way four times...! You didn't even hear it, did you?" he narrowed his eyes again, and Desmond sighed.
"No," he grumbled and walked to the cupboard, yanking it open, and reaching for a mug. "Considering that I only got three hour of sleep last night, thanks tosomeone..." He threw a very dark look at Gabriel, and then shifted his gaze, letting it pause on Raven and Julian for equally long time. Gabriel blinked at that but didn't say anything. "What do you want from me?" Desmond seemed somewhat calmer after he filled his mug with coffee and lit a cigarette.
"Do *not *leave the house again," Julian said darkly, and Desmond gave him a mildly amused look.
"Do *not *tell me what to do," he nodded while sipping his coffee, his cigarette resting between his fingers.
Julian let out an impatient sigh.
"I could care less about what happens to you," he said shortly. "I don't want to risk Raven's life and well-being! Therefore, do *not *leave the goddamn house! Not until everything is resolved," he finished and drank more of his coffee.
"Des, he is right," Gabriel thought, and Desmond threw him a dark look. Rayhe never shifted his gaze. "He is right...!" he thought again. "She didn't dare to get into the house, it seems, which means you should be safe here! Stay put until we figure out how to get rid of her...!"
Desmond muttered something under his breath and lit another cigarette, even though his last one was only half-finished.
"Fine," he said shortly, and fell silent without elaborating any further.
Julian nodded slowly and almost hesitantly, as if not quite buying this. Finally, he let out a small sigh and looked at Raven.
"You said there was something else," he said slowly. "What was it?"
"Oh..." Raven threw a quick glance at Desmond, who seemed to be almost indifferent by now. "We finally figured out what was binding us," he nodded, and Julian and Gabriel became simultaneously mute. Raven nodded once again. "This," he raised his arm with the wristband hugging his wrist.
"Your wristband...?" Julian said very slowly a couple of minutes later, and Raven nodded yet again.
"Yes," he said. "It used to belong to him," he glanced at gloomy Desmond. "A long time ago."
"How did you figure that out?" Gabriel blinked.
"Because he gave it to the same person I got it from," Raven explained patiently.
"Why would it bind you though?" Gabriel shook his head. "I mean, it's just a simple object! So what if Desmond happened to possess it first?"
"The kid I gave it to..." Desmond looked at him. "The kid died," he finished with a slight nod. "Right before he died, however, he gave the damn thing to him," he nodded at Raven without taking his eyes off Gabriel's face.
"It's not the wristband by itself..." Julian said as slowly as before, his eyes fixed on Raven's wrist. "It's his death... Even if you get rid of the band, it won't change much, since you've had it for so long..."
All of them were silent for several long, `tick-tock' filled minutes.
"Okay," Gabriel said finally, crossing the kitchen in several quick steps. "That solves the bond question; why are they falling asleep if too far apart though?" He took a mug from silent Desmond's hand and gave him a quick nod. "I don't think the wristband has anything to do with that... The band only explains why and how Raven was able to recognize him in dreams and keep all his memories... What about that damn coma?"
"It might have something to do with the band, you don't know..." Julian started saying, but Gabriel interrupted him with impatient headshake.
"No," he said somewhat sharply. "If that was the reason, they would've slipped into lethargy the first time after he ended up in Raven's dream...! The whole lethargy ordeal only happened because of the painting. I think the damn painting is to blame for what's happening now... Goddammit," he growled and threw a very dark look at the thoughtful blond. "I told you that destroying it was a dumb idea! Now the only thing we can do is guess and poke blindly in the dark...!"
"Can you undo it?" Raven asked with a tight frown. "Bring the painting back...?"
"No," Julian replied with a shadow of self-frustration. "Destroying spells are impossible to undo. Once you destroyed something, it stays that way."
"Great," Desmond muttered and put his mug onto the counter.
"Where are you going?" Julian demanded sharply when the ex-assassin headed towards the front door.
"To grab the mail," Desmond rolled his eyes. "Unless you want to do it for me," he looked at the tense blond. "If that's the case, then go ahead!" he nodded energetically.
"Sorry, forgot to get it on my way in," Gabriel muttered, and Desmond shrugged.
"You always do," he said and looked away from Julian, who seemed to be just a little less tense. "Be right back," Desmond said in unusually mild tone and went outside.
"Rayhe, it's almost midnight... If you start shaking me awake again, I swear to God..."
"I won't," Gabriel sighed and buried his face in Desmond's neck. "I promise," he added a few seconds later in a muffled voice.
"Okay..." Desmond yawned and glanced at the clock again. "Okay," he repeated somewhat thoughtfully. "It's been ten minutes... It usually takes you at least twenty minutes to recuperate... Good," he nodded. "I'll be asleep by then."
Gabriel sighed again and raised his head just a bit.
"You make it sound like I am the only one who wants it," he muttered with mild reproach. "It's not like I take you against your will every time..."
"Nice try," Desmond nodded without opening his eyes. "But I am not getting into any discussions with you right now so you can buy yourself time and leave me with no choice but say, `forget sleep'... Good night, Rayhe..."
Gabriel grinned and kissed his shoulder.
"Night," he said and buried his face in Desmond's neck again.
...A couple of hours later, Desmond woke up after feeling that familiar breeze.
"Dammit," he grumbled without opening his eyes. "Can't I have one night of peace?"
The breeze increased ever so slightly.
"I guess not," Desmond sighed and sat up on the bed, watching transparency grow and move towards him. "Make it quick this time, will you?" he said impatiently. "And no, I am not staying in Raven's dream, so might as well just give up...!"
The breeze ruffled his hair, clearly nowhere near giving up, and Desmond sighed again – this time, with more defeat. He closed his eyes briefly when that transparency twirled around him, making him slightly dizzy. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a dark room. He looked around and noticed a strip of light emerging from underneath the door. He sighed and headed towards that door.
He pulled the door open and found himself in a small bathroom. He frowned when he saw someone with his back towards the door. That someone was standing in front of something that looked like a music stand, which held a decent size canvas. Desmond blinked when he saw the amount of clothespins that were holding the canvas in place. "Why not just buy an easel?" he thought with puzzlement, and then the person turned around when he heard the sound of the door opening.
"Of course," Desmond nodded when he recognized the artist.
"What are you doing here...? And who are you?" Henry asked dumbfoundedly, his brush frozen in midair.
"Whom are you talking to?" someone asked sharply and Desmond turned his head.
He frowned when he saw a woman next to Henry's reflection in the mirror. The woman didn't seem familiar at all – Desmond was positive that he has never seen her in his entire life. Then he glanced at the painting and swore softly – he stared at the painfully familiar labyrinth of countless mirrors. It seemed that the painting was halfway completed.
"Whom are you talking to?" the woman demanded again, her eyes quickly scanning the bathroom without pausing on Desmond.
"I..." Henry looked at the ex-assassin with even more puzzlement.
"She can't see me," Desmond nodded. "It's a dream, believe it or not, and she can't see me."
"Myself," Henry said quickly and looked in the mirror. "I am still allowed to do that, aren't I?"
The woman hemmed and her shoulders relaxed.
"Just don't stop painting," she said with a slight nod. "Talk away, just keep painting."
The artist let out a short, irritated sigh and returned his attention to the canvas in front of him.
"That must be Magda," Desmond thought, studying the reflection. "Except, she doesn't look anything like herself..."
Then he thought of something.
"Does she appear to you the same way every time?" he asked Henry, who gave him a quick, sideways glance. "Or does she wear different faces?"
"Every time is different," the artist muttered. "Apparently, it makes it less boring."
The woman in the mirror didn't even bother saying anything this time. Desmond looked at Henry thoughtfully.
"You don't seem surprised," he said slowly. "I mean, some random guy just walked into your bathroom and told you that you are dreaming, and you are cool as a cucumber..."
Henry shrugged indifferently.
"Nothing surprises me lately," he said. "Plus," he glanced at the mirror again. "It seems that you are right about the dream."
"I see," Desmond nodded.
"Okay, stop for a second," the woman commanded suddenly, and Henry looked at her with a small frown. "Right there, the very top..." She pointed at the painting. "The right corner..."
"What about it?" Henry asked with the same small frown.
"Put number forty there," the woman nodded.
"Number forty?" the artist repeated dumbfoundedly. "Forty of what...?"
"Don't worry about that," the woman said coolly. "Just do it!"
Henry shrugged and obediently wrote 40 in the upper right corner of the canvas.
"Good," the woman nodded. "Now, leave it there, but cover it up. I don't want it to be noticeable... I guess you can call it..." A small smile slid across her mouth. "A precaution," she finished with a slow nod.
"Precaution," Henry repeated, that small frown never leaving his forehead.
"Yes," she said. "Paint...!" she shook her head somewhat impatiently. "Don't just stand there! Paint...! Make sure the number is completely covered," she added in a few seconds, and Henry let out a small sigh and nodded without saying anything.
"Forty," Desmond thought, his eyes narrow. "Forty of what...?"
He looked into the mirror, concentrating on the woman's mind, trying to hear her. Suddenly, just when he was about to start reading her, everything around him shifted rather quickly, and then there was that breeze again.
"No!" Desmond gritted his teeth. "Bloody hell, not yet...! Wait!"
The breeze wouldn't take any of that; it grew stronger, and transparency swallowed Desmond whole, wrapping around him quicker than usual.
"Dammit...!" he thought with helpless frustration, and then he slid into familiar blackness.
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