Part One
Dream
夢想
相信在一个人的梦想，是把一个人的生命睡着了
White.
The endless snow, blanketing the earth, screaming, whirling, sweeping down and across the jagged peaks of the mountaintops surrounding.
Red.
The blood, splattered across the plain of white. Sticky warmth trickling down his clothes and face.
His face stares up.
Mountains surrounding. The tall, dark, craggy peaks reaching the sky as cold snow swirls around.
His eyes are wide open.
The stars, specks of light in the infinitely black sky, like spirits hovering in eternal darkness. Closer then they have ever been before.
His skin is white as snow.
His face red with blood.
His body gaping-
"Chang!"
Tintin jolted off the cot, flying forward, his heart pounding, his lungs gasping for breath. Please not… please not Chang… please not Chang…
"Tintin?"
He barely heard the words. His mind was shredded; bewildered, agonised chaos. Each shaking breath rattled his chest. His grey eyes stared wildly around him; his heartbeat was so fast and hard it hurt.
"It's okay," he heard the Captain say, and felt his arms go around him. For just a second, his tense body resisted the movement, screaming for space. But eventually his body relaxed, and he let the Captain ease him back down.
"I—I had another dream," he gasped, struggling for air, but Haddock cut him off, shaking his head.
"It's okay. It's just a dream." His brow was furrowed with concern, but he smiled gently, his gloved hand resting against Tintin's cheek for a brief moment as he said, "You go back to sleep, lad, okay? It's fine."
Even in the darkness of the tent, Tintin could see the ice-blue eyes that had, only a few days ago, very nearly closed forever. For his sake. He felt himself nodding. "Okay," he murmured, relaxing against the pillow. Satisfied, Haddock's face disappeared into the darkness of the night as he left Tintin's side, going back to his own pillow and blanket.
Exhaling, the boy closed his eyes tight, but in minutes had opened them again. His eyes wandered to the holes in the canopy of the tent above him. Through the tiny slits, he could see pinpricks of light, glistening through the thick, velvety blackness of the Tibetan night sky. Their light was cold, he thought. So cold and white.
Time flowed onward, drifting like the soft current of wind caressing the canvass tent. His body ached to rest, but sleep had abandoned him. He could hear the Captain's breathing; a slow, steady pattern. Besides that and the wind outside, it was deathly quiet. Tintin shifted his position, trying to become more comfortable. But no matter which way he turned, he couldn't seem to relax. He couldn't get Chang's face out of his mind. And not even what he had seen in his dream. The face he'd seen two years ago, when they'd just met. That face wouldn't leave him. The boy had been so bright, and innocent. And so young.
Too young to die.
He sighed again, blowing the air out in a steady stream. Despite the thick wool blankets over him, he felt chilled, and burrowed in deeper. The Captain was less than a foot away, and after a moment of hesitation, he moved closer to the man, trying to goad warmth back into his body. It was comforting to be close to someone, he thought. After the dream. It was good to be near someone... alive.
It was a long time before he could fall asleep again.
Author's Note: Yep, another Tintin in Tibet fanfic. Guess what my favourite comic book is. Since I'm cramming for the PSAT right now, I decided to do a short story with super short updates. Hopefully, this means more updates! Just... shorter ones.
Also, I forgot to mention that I don't own Tintin, Moulinsart, or Tibet. No, not even Tibet. (I'm not sure who actually does own Tibet, but it isn't me.)