A/N: Blame Aiko's Eclipse series/Lightverse for this. Remi's muse decided it wanted to let this idea run wild too.
This is part of a long-winded series (see my series list under the subheading "Doppler" to see what order the fics are in; this'll be updated as things are further written/ideas grow and change). For now, it's simply post-frontier, but there'll be AU elements later on (looking at the current fuzzy plan for certain other sequels/side-stories/possible prequels anyhow :D). Or if you're following me and don't want to mess around with the plan, look out for any fic titles that start with [Doppler] – that means it's a part of this –verse.
And that's enough intro from me. I'll let the stories speak for the rest and indulge my muse's desire for twin-torture. She claims it's been too long. I claim she's not reading right…but she doesn't like to listen to me very often. The story will slowly build up regardless, so enjoy this first instalment!
The Doppler Series
The Voice is a Dream
1.01
Someone was whispering in his dreams. Insistently. Louder when he rolled and buried his head into his pillow in an effort to drown it out.
'Can't you see?'
No, he wasn't going to look. But there were hands on his face: sweet but bitter smelling, calloused but smooth, unfamiliar and yet he wasn't recoiling from them, as if he did know them after all…
Those hands flickered past his eyelashes. Pressed on his eyelids. Tugged on them. He felt them opening unwillingly.
'Come now. Don't be afraid.'
But he was afraid, wasn't he? There was no other reason he'd keep them squeezed shut as he was. Why he was trying to stop his eyes opening, instead of fighting those cool hands on his face.
'I'm only showing you the truth.'
He heard another whisper. Somewhere. Sounding familiar – and yet, for a moment, he felt he didn't know it at all.
His eyes opened. He stared at the mirror. At his own face in the shadowed glass. At the scar over his right brow…
No… He wasn't the one with that scar.
'Kouji!' It was a shout, and yet it sounded like a whisper to him. So distant. So far away. Barely recognisable…and yet, why wouldn't he recognise it immediately for what it was? Whose it was?
'Because…' And there was that first voice again, unknown but for some reason both familiar and knowing. '…that voice tells a lie.'
He was slipping away, and unfamiliarity descended upon him, grasping him. Unfamiliar hands – they weren't on his face anymore, but his shoulders –
They made him squirm. He struck against them. He felt those hands let go, those final words still echoing in his ears.
'That voice tells a lie…'
What lie was that? And why did he even need to know, he wondered.