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Touching Dream (six)

The couch wasn't really built for this.

Janelle lay atop Will as much as next to him, one leg and one arm stretched over him, soft breasts pressed against him. He felt his elbow hanging off the edge of the couch, and protectively drew his arm more tightly around her.

Squeezed against the back of the couch, laying flat on his back, unable to move for fear of knocking her off the couch, her head nestled against his neck, her hair spilling over his chin and mouth... it was uncomfortable. But Will didn't mind at all.

He hadn't felt this *right* in a long time.

She sighed sweetly as she stirred.

"You cold?" He could feel goosebumps on her hip.
"Hm-mm," she fibbed, squeezing him with her arm.
"Liar," he retorted, sliding his hand across her bottom and giving it a playful squeeze. "Let me get the blanket." His hand fell to the floor, feeling around the cold wood like a drunken spider. He couldn't reach very far, and after plucking up what turned out to be her panties he suspended the search and called for reinforcements.

Will pushed himself up on his other elbow, holding her to him so she wouldn't fall off the couch, straining his neck to see over her to the floor near the other end of the couch. The blanket he usually kept on the back of the couch had started off covering the pair after their first lovemaking, but it hadn't been more than a few minutes of slowing breathing before giggling set in and they'd found themselves wrestling and squirming and ready for another round, this time with her on top. The blanket had been an immediate casualty, now a lonely wad draped off the far end of the couch.

"I'll get it," she said. She tried to squirm out from under his arm but got caught and wound up landing somewhat ungracefully on the hard floor with a thump. A moment of held breath -- did she hurt herself? -- was followed by a rising stream of giggles. "Just kick me out of bed, why doncha," she managed before laughter overtook her. Will couldn't help but join in.

Janelle folded over and crawled to the other end of the couch, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her as she stood and headed for the bathroom.

"Leaving already?" Will said, his tone casual and cocksure but his anxiety growing.
"Calm down, I just gotta pee," she chided before she closed the door.

Will shifted on the couch, spreading out and stretching sore muscles. It'd been a long time since he'd felt this way. Well, in some ways, he'd *never* felt this way.

But it wasn't all good. Anxiety was beginning to build over what would happen next. It couldn't stay like this. Well, there was the obvious, of course -- Janelle was another man's wife. Not just any other man, but a former professional football player, a linebacker known for his fierce playing style. Funny that that was the least of his worries, almost not worth mentioning. But then, Janelle was no ordinary woman. He would have wondered if she was a woman at all if it hadn't been for what they'd done. No, not *done*, nothing so crude as that -- what they'd *shared*.

And now his brain was in problem-solving mode, trying its best to figure out how he could get her to leave.

He didn't want her to go, but he couldn't have her stay under Randy's thumb. The image of her scars returned; he scrunched up his face at the recollection. He'd only seen them for that one brief moment before she'd covered them up, and he'd been afraid to touch them all night, not wanting to remind either of them of what waited for her when she went back home to Randy. No, not when, *if*. Will would figure out a way to make this work. He reran everything Janelle had told him, about Wi'gen and Tal'id and Dream and her mission as a Guardian and binding and...

Janelle came out of the bathroom, its light glowing around her like a divine aura.

"Your veil," Will said out loud.
"What?" She flicked the light off and came back to the couch, standing at the other end of it, looking down at him, her hands on her hips beneath the blanket draped over her shoulders. The street light leaking in from the window behind her made her a silhouette to Will's eyes, the blanket looking a little like wings folded around her. Or maybe a shield.

"Your veil," he repeated. "It protects you, right? Like a shield, or a... forcefield?"
"I guess," she sighed. "At least, it would if I hadn't lost it." She tapped at his foot to move so she could sit. Will guessed he'd spoiled the mood and there'd be no more cuddling. He swung his feet around, the rubbing fabric of the cushions reminding him as he sat upright that he was naked. Somewhat self-consciously he reached down to find his boxers as Janelle sat down next to him.
"So what's this veil look like?" Will asked. He wiggled into his boxers without standing.

Janelle knew where he was going. "You can't find it. It's gone." Her voice changed, as if she was quoting something out of a book. "'If a Guardian becomes distracted and relaxes her hold on her veil, the swirl of passing thoughts may slip it from her shoulders beneath her notice, and then she is helpless against the Tal'id.' It's probably the most-discussed line in the divine order. They drill it into you in training. You can't see it, it's not even really physical, the only way you know it's there is you get this *feeling*."

Will frowned, but was only somewhat deterred. "What's it feel like?"
Janelle turned inward a moment, obviously searching far back for a memory. Then she smiled. "Happiness."

That was... cryptic. And yet, after last night, he knew exactly what she meant.

"Maybe if you let me, I could find it through your memories."
"Will, once I entered Dream, I pretty much forgot about my veil. I didn't even know I'd lost it. I roamed around a lot before I was drawn toward the other side --your side. You probably haven't even seen the far side of Dream yet. And even if you could find the veil, how would you pull it back here? It's actually *in* Dream, if it's anywhere at all." Janelle reached out from underneath the blanket and took his hand. "But it was a nice thought."

He knew she was patronizing him, but his brain wasn't done yet.

"Wait, I have another idea." He turned on the couch to face her, pulling her hand to have her do the same. "You said you couldn't leave because he'd just follow you and bind you again. So I'll keep him busy until you're safely away." He didn't have any idea how long that would have to be -- he knew when he Shifted in Dream he could go pretty much anywhere in an instant, but maybe it was different for someone if they actually crossed over. If they did, he'd hold Randy however long it took...

"No -- he'll hurt you."
"I'm not made of glass."
"Compared to him, you are."
"Maybe here, but not in Dream. And once you're unbound, that's the only place he'll be."
Janelle thought a moment, but... "I can't. I can't just run away and leave you to deal with him."

"And if you stay here, what can you do? You said yourself you can't Dream. He's been Dreaming here at least ten years since he brought you here, and who knows how long before that."
"But it's different now. He knows about you."
Will straightened up, shoulders thrown back. "So maybe now he'll think twice before he goes messing around in Dream." It wasn't like Will to puff up, but Dream was *his* world here, and he wasn't going to let anybody mess with it -- or her.

"But you're not like him, Will. He's... *mean*."
"And I'm stubborn," Will said evenly, as much a rebuttal to Randy's threat as to Janelle's reluctance.

"Look," he continued, "I know you feel like you're just dumping your problem on me-"
"That's right -- he's my problem. I was supposed to protect both our worlds from him and instead I brought him here. And it's my duty to fix it. I signed up for this, you didn't."
Will continued. "-but I can handle it." He looked down at her hand in his, the feeble glow from the window painting her smooth skin with illuminance against his dark roughness. "I don't know if you believe in fate -- I don't know if *I* believe in fate -- but you found me, and I can help. You can finally break free of him. And I'd like to think my life has more purpose than finding keys and keepsakes." He looked back up, catching her eyes. "We'd be crazy to turn away from this."
"But Will..."
"And anyway it's not like you're leaving him here forever, right? When you tell your... Elders about Randy, they'll send you back to take care of him for good."

Janelle sighed. "Will, I lost my veil. You don't know what a huge deal that is. It's not the kind of thing where you get a second chance."

That sucked. That *really* sucked. But Will bucked up; if he didn't put a happy face on this, how would he talk her into it? "Well, they'll send someone else then. Either way, the Randy problem gets solved. And in the mean time, I'll have something to do." He gave her a wry smile.

"What if he's already moved it?"
"You just get in there, take all the marbles, and get out. You remember the place you met me the other day, across town?"
"Yeah."
"If it doesn't work out, I mean, if you don't break free or whatever, you just go there. A man named Davis has an office there. He's a good man, and he owes me a favor; he'll take care of you until I get there, and we can figure out our next move. Just remember, if he's moved it, I'll find it. Randy can't hide anything from me."
"When he wakes up, he's going to come for you."
"I won't be here by the time he gets here."
"What if he's keeping the marble with him? You can't-"
"Then I'll get a couple of friends to help me. They find out what he's done to you, I don't care how strong he is, we'll get him to cough it up."
"But Will, he can't be-"
"Janelle, stop it. I'm not giving up on you. One way or another, you're going home."

Will stood up and began gathering Janelle's clothes. "You get dressed; I'll dip into Dream and see if he's asleep. If he is, you can go now and this'll all be over before the sun comes up."

"I need to think about this," she put off.

Will imagined her going back to that monster. No. "Now that he's seen me, he knows something's up. Like you said, it's different now." He pushed the clothes into her hands and then pulled her to her feet. "Stay or go. Either way, I'm gonna go give Randy a piece of my mind."

He could tell that she understood now. It *was* different.

The blanket fell from her shoulders as she stood and took the clothes from him. "William Cross, you are something else."

Will sat back down and then reclined on the couch. He was charged up, but he also had a clarity he hadn't ever felt before. He had a mission. He had a *purpose*.

It only took a moment.
Will shifted.

Inside the house. Behind the recliner. Not there.
Threads leading from the fishtank to the bedroom.
Randy, in bed, asleep.

A thread in Will's hand. Gentle...
Shift.

Randy's hulking frame, squatting in front of the fish tank, peering into it, one marble glowing brightly, tracing hundreds of intersecting curves of light all over the walls of the room. The faintest hints of dozens of threads running away from Randy in every direction.

Focus...

Threads brighter now, thicker, the room fading away to leave the two men in the middle of an endless space marked only by thick webs of mind linking unseen souls and pasts and events, waiting to be touched.

Shift.

Will was back on his couch. His eyes remained closed, but he felt the realness around him, the fabric on the cushions, the air in his lungs, the tug of gravity, the scent of someone else...

But he held on to that last image of Randy, alone, all of his threads lit up around him, connecting him to all of the things he'd done, all of the people he'd touched.

He wanted to take those threads and wrap them around the brute's thick neck and squeeze the very essence out of him.

Will felt something soft and moist on his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Janelle kneeling over him. "I thought I'd lost you for a minute there," she said with a smile.

"He's in bed asleep," Will said, all business. "You should go now. I'll keep him busy." It occurred to him that he had no idea how long she'd need. "Does it take long?"

"To break the binding? I don't know. I don't think so."
"And to get home?"

Home; the word seemed to strike her as bittersweet. "I only have to imagine it, and I will be there. Don't worry, you won't have to stall him long. Just a few moments."
"What I have to say to him will take longer than that."
"Will," she cautioned, "don't be a hero. You'll know when I'm gone. Then you count to three, and you let him go and get far away."
"I will," he said, neither one really sure whether he really meant it.

Janelle stood up to go. Will followed her to the door, reaching past her to give the knob just the right tug.

Her hand caressed his good cheek. "Thank you," she said, her voice breaking to a whisper.

"I'll see you when you come back for him," Will replied earnestly.

Will watched her leave from the window. A glass of water and two Tylenol would help with the pain when he woke up.

As he lay down, he felt his heart begin to beat faster. This would not be an ordinary trip through Dream.

He had to face another Dreamer -- one who'd held Will in Dream and chased him across Shifts, who'd *hurt* him. Will had only escaped by using his worst nightmare.

But it was that scary meeting that showed Will what was possible. And two could play at that game...

Will clenched his fists tight, breathing deeply, counting ten, nine, eight, seven...

Will stands up. He sees himself on the couch, breathing deeply.

He focuses.
The world fades away, leaving only darkness.
Will lets himself fade into it...
...and threads begin to appear. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. More than he should be able to see. And he realizes he isn't seeing them. This isn't a space of light, it is a space of mind, of feeling.
He remembers as a child being afraid of the dark -- the darkness is where crashes happen. He remembers feeling this sea of mind all around him, being afraid of it, bouying himself above it in the visual.

That thread of memory attenuates and hums, and he finds himself there, crying out, the light coming on, the strange woman from the home rushing in, trying to maintain a compassionate face but something betraying her annoyance. Every detail is bright and crisp and subtle.

Will blinks; the memory fades, and he is back in sightless mindspace. The Shifts are effortless, almost subconscious. He doesn't need to be afraid of this place. He doesn't need that memory anymore.

Will thinks, and the thread falls to hand. A quick turn of the arm wraps it once; fingers grip tightly.
Will Pulls.

Fierce fire singes the top of his neck; he curls up in reaction to the pain, but it lasts only an instant.
The thread around his arm dissolves into nothing.
Will knows he used to be afraid of the dark, but he cannot remember why.

Soon, Randy will not remember why he keeps a marble in his fish tank.

He Shifts.

The fish tank. He has his own connection to it now, a shortcut through Dream.
The tank glows. The marble is here, but he cannot discern it specifically.

Will focuses, and the world drops away. There is only him, and the marble. And Randy, still squatting in front of it, staring at it. He must know they will be trying to take it.

Will relaxes a bit; objects begin to come into view, but only just; he sees Randy through semi-transparent walls, asleep in bed. Will hopes Janelle can be quiet when she empties the tank; Will's hands will be full keeping Randy's Dream self occupied.

Not too soon; he doesn't know how long he can engage Randy, and Janelle isn't here yet...

Shift.

Janelle is hard to find; her thoughts barely register. He wouldn't be able to sort her out at all except for their connection. Will floats next to her, above her, around her. She is almost here.

Will knows he could pull a thread to let her know he is with her, but he doesn't want to upset her concentration. But this may be the last he sees of her. He draws close, his hand falling to a glowing thread between them. He holds a thought near, knowing it will be no more than a breath against her subconscious:

You'll always be an angel in my dreams.

Will pulls away and Shifts.

He doesn't see Janelle's smile.

Randy hasn't moved.
Will focuses, and everything fades.
Everything but Randy and the marble.
And dozens of threads connecting them like thick ropes.
This isn't going to be easy.

But first he needs to draw the Tal'id away. Will needs Randy to focus on him, not the marble.

Will fades into the darkness, leaving Randy and everything else behind.

But he soon feels a tugging, and Randy appears before him.

"So you're not just a tyro after all. Do you know any more tricks? Because if you don't, this is gonna hurt even more than last time."

"How did you...?"

Randy sneers. "Oh yeah. It's gonna hurt a *lot*." He steps forward. "What say I pick the venue this time." Randy closes his eyes; when he opens them, he begins to fade; but before he is gone, the blackness starts to shimmer, and brighten, and take shape, and Will is pulled through it, until it suddenly takes focus.

Will is standing in a field. The sky is dark, but the field is brightly lit.
All around, crushing white noise.
Cheering.
And huge angry armored men are running toward him.
Will looks down -- he is holding a football.

Oh, shit.

He barely has time to brace for impact. His vision blurs; the breath leaves his lungs; gravity takes a break, then reels him back in, with what feels like a Buick coming down on top of him.

As the weight is gradually lifted, Will hears the chanting crowd: Rhino! Rhino! Rhino! Rhino!

The gray helmet and muddy uniform makes the thing looming above him look very much like a rhino, at least to his dizzied vision. He finds a breath, but it comes with a sting.

"How'd that feel, sport?" Randy taunts. "That was with pads. Just wait till they come off." Will feels Randy smack him across the helmet; protected or not, it rings his bell.

"You think because you can Dream, you can match me here? You never should have gotten involved."

Will closes his eyes. He feels through Dream; the fish tank overturned, Janelle on her knees, frantically scooping the glass orbs into a tube sock. Only a few left. And the one that counts is already corraled.

"Wake up, sport, I didn't hit you that hard. The least you can do is make this interesting."

Will smiles -- even though it hurts to smile. He must have bit his own lip; he tastes blood. Ironic that he's learned to focus in Dream only to feel pain more intensely. But Randy is also showing him the possibilites of this place.

Will stands -- slowly, trying to overstate how much Randy's hit hurt him, and finding little room for exaggeration.

Randy smirks; he's surprised but pleased that Will isn't a quitter.

"So he has a spine after all."

Will pulls his helmet off, throwing it to the turf. He turns and spits defiantly, then wipes the blood from his lips.

"My turn."

Will focuses, but never takes his eyes off Randy. The clarity of darkness is right there; Will feels it without having to leave. He finds the thread he wants, and takes a deep breath to pull it forth. The world around the two combatants shimmers, but doesn't change.

Randy smiles. "Whoops," he says with not a little sarcasm, "it's hard to focus when someone's rattled your cage, isn't it?"
"You shouldn't be worrying about me," Will shoots back. "You should be watching out for that bus."

Will can see the words form on Randy's sneering lips -- "What bus?" -- but they don't escape before a Metro Transit Authority Bus breaks through the sidelines. Randy turns toward it, dumbfounded, unable to move before...

Crunch!

The bus skids to a halt, churning up great wads of green turf and dark muck.
And Randy skids and tumbles and flops, coming to rest some twenty yards ahead of it.

Will Shifts until he is standing just a few feet away. His football uniform is gone, replaced by his usual jeans and polo shirt. Randy slowly rolls over, huffing and wheezing as he rises to his hands and knees.

"I call your linebacker and raise you a Gillig."

That jolts Randy out of his fog; he leaps to his feet, quickly grabbing Will by the front of his shirt.

"You think you can hurt me? You dumb fuck! Didn't she tell you? As long as she's bound to me-"
"You're breathing hard," Will observes wryly. It's more than he expected, and anyway, it's just a set up...
"You think that means anything? You think that means a *fucking* thing? How your ribs feel, sport? That's only the beginning for you."
"First you have to catch me," Will taunts. And then he Shifts.

He's in the playground behind his childhood school. Not that it matters -- he knows Randy will follow him. In fact, Will is counting on it.

Randy does not disappoint; time is not always easy to judge in Dream, but Will knows it didn't take his adversary more than a few breaths, despite the mentally-distant place.

"We meet again," Will drolls. He supposes he should pretend to be surprised, but he knows that Janelle is safely away from the house by now, and he's tired of letting this brute think he has the upper hand.

"Is this the part where you keep one step ahead of me until the Wi'gen bitch takes her binding back and breaks free and I just disappear? It doesn't work that way, sport."

"You're right," Will answers, feeling down into the darkness for the right threads, making sure he has a firm grip on the thickest one. "This is the part where I hurt you back."

Will lets the dreamworld fade; the instant he feels free of it, he digs in and rips with all his might.

Randy's scream precedes him into Will's darkness. Will focuses more intently, reaching for another thread. He feels Randy and the marble and knows its importance to him means he holds it by many threads. Randy capturing Janelle, scarring her, hiding the key to her bondage in the fish tank, checking on it, thinking of it every time she crossed him, every time he hurt her, every time he fed the fish...

It might take a long time to tear Randy's threads away, and Will hopes every one hurts as much as the first.

"Now I've got *your* number," Will spat.

Randy is gasping, but he straightens up. "Neat trick," he breathes, "but if you try that again I'll kill you."
"Not here you won't," Will replies, snapping another thread with a vicious tug.
Randy grimaces, but stands firm. "You think I don't know pain? You think I can't find you and beat the life out of you no matter how much you pull?" His whole body flexes, and the darkness around them takes shape. They're in a small room, with no windows and only a single door behind Randy. He's wearing heavy gloves...

"You can try," Will says, "but it's only a matter of time before I get them all. And then she'll be gone. And if you think I'll let you chase her, you haven't learned a thing about what it means to be a man."

Randy is suddenly upon Will, hand around neck, squeezing. "Where is she?" he bellows. There is a hint of desperation in his eyes.

Will closes his eyes. He feels Randy's grip tighten; he knows he can't breathe. He wonders how contact in Dream manifests in the real world -- he knows from his shiner and his sore ribs that it does, but the nature of the connection eludes him. He wonders if Randy can kill him here. But mostly he tries not to panic as he searches for a thread...

Will pulls; Randy grunts, his grip relaxing slightly, but it is enough.

Shift.

The schoolbus he rode as a freshman in high school.
Randy is there, two rows away, climbing over the seats.

Shift.
Junior college parking lot. Will's car wouldn't start.
Randy smashes the windshield.
Will relaxes long enough to feel the dark space. Randy reaches through the windshield, grabbing Will's hair and slamming his head into the steering wheel; Will loses his grip on Randy's threads, but finds one again and pulls -- not hard enough to pull it loose, but...

Shift.
A pet store. The aquarium section.
Will ducks as Randy throws an empty tank at him. The tank misses, but bounces off the shelf behind and knocks Will forward, into the aquarium decorations. Will closes his eyes, desperate to gain a little distance, but in panic choosing the first thread that falls to hand...

Shift.
Amusement park. People everywhere.
Randy grabs him from behind in a bear hug. Will's chest feels like it's on fire. But he hangs in, pulling them both down into darkness, feeling Randy resist, groping in his mind for the marble, tracing back, ripping one, two, three threads, feeling Randy spasm with each one, until one gives Will just enough room to...

Shift.
The park.
It seems Randy is waiting for him, clearly winded and hurting but still quick: the punch catches Will in the side of the head, and he goes down. Will doesn't try to Shift again. This is it; he tears at Randy's threads with abandon, stilling his attacker, reaching into the dark again and again, knowing if he lets up for a moment he is finished. There are so many threads, too many, and he is getting tired, his grip faltering, his tugging less directed and more desperate. Randy staggers before him, face twisted in agony, but his meaty paws find Will's shoulder, and then his hair, and then Will feels a thread slip from him, and Randy half-falls, half-shoves Will's face to the ground.

The sting is superficial, but Will has lost his momentum, and Randy is on top of him now, pinning him. He tries to Shift, but Randy holds him. He tries again, and...

Shift.
Davis' office. Will shouldn't be here. Randy will come here, and he'll see Janelle...
But Janelle isn't here. Where is she?
He wants to find her, but he knows he shouldn't. He should leave here, but he can't think of anywhere else to go. And Randy... Randy isn't here yet. Why didn't Randy follow him? Why doesn't Randy finish him? Confusion falls to self-preservation. Will breathes. It hurts. He wonders how bad he looks. He thinks of Shifting to his office, but he's so tired. No. He's not finished yet.
Randy still isn't here. Maybe he's beaten. But he still has a hold on Janelle.

Will Shifts.
Back in the park. But Randy is not here. It takes all of Will's concentration to find Randy's thread. He takes a deep breath...

Shift.
Will's office.
Where is Randy?
There, just inside the door.
Will sees himself on the couch. He doesn't look good. Still just in his boxers, curled up now, almost fetal, coughing. He should wake up. But it's hard to concentrate. He's never pushed this hard before. He's tired, so tired. He's slipping.
And then he sees Janelle, sitting on the floor, the sock full of marbles next to her. She's stroking his cheek gently, her head on his chest, whispering softly, over and over, "wake up, baby; wake up." He can almost feel her touch.
Why is she here? She is not supposed to be here. It is not safe for her here. Randy will know she is here and he will come for her.
Will wants to wake up. But he's so tired... and he's not finished.
And then Randy, half-broken and leaning against the door, speaks to him.
"Neat... trick," he says, pausing to take a deep and pained breath, "and it almost worked. But you have a problem."
"What?" Will gasps, slipping halfway into the dark, seeing only a half-dozen threads remaining between Randy and the marble, and knowing he can't possibly pull hard enough to undo even one of them now. He searches desperately for some final reserve, but it's hard to think at all...

Randy straightens up, nostrils flaring, lips curling up into a wicked smile. "I don't have to sleep to be in Dream. Knock knock."

Randy leans back, falling through the door...

...and then the door explodes off its hinges, skidding into the room and falling underfoot of a very angry and very real Randall "Rhino" Holden.