Disclaimer: I do not own 07 ghost.

A/N: Hey guys, let's skip the bl warnings and the don't like don't read stuff. I guess you already know anyway. More important, this is not my mother tongue and I don't have a beta right now, so feel free to help me improve my English.

I won't give you any further information on the pairing, cause I'm a meany and like teasing my readers :P Though I guess it's not very hard to figure out.

Anyway, have fun reading.

The dreams had changed. First it had been Yukikaze haunting him at nights. Then it had been brown haired beauty breaking his sleep. Now it was... well it wasn't that Eve had left him. It was rather like there was something else. Like she was drawing in other memories lately. Memories connected to his, no to Verlorens feelings towards her.

There was something he couldn't put his finger on.

The deafening silence in this small cabin made the silver haired more then ever aware of the death god lying half awake, half asleep inside his body. At times like this he could feel how much the borders of their personalities had already merged. Not that he was afraid to loose himself, ever since Verloren had awoken he had considered him a long lost part of himself, he simply disliked the fact that he had no control over it. His amethyst eyes stared a blank hole into the ceiling. As chief of staff he surely shouldn't be sleeping in a place like this and it wasn't that he technically couldn't find sleep in his room, but lately he preferred to avoid... avoid what? Ayanami realised he wasn't avoiding anything, but the true reason he was so fond of his new bedroom.

It was quite like a coffin.

Coffin. The word echoed in his head. With just the slightest rustling of clothes and sheets the pale man stood up. Quietly opening the door he peaked out, listening carefully for the guards steps which were right now echoing away from where he was. Though he was their commander and though they were loyal without doubt, he had no intention of being caught off guard like he always was after waking up.

Ayanami blamed the death god for it, like he always did when his ego didn't allow him to admit the truth. Tiptoeing barefoot back to his office nobody did cross his way. Why would they, he thought. It was four... four something in the morning. Though he had went to bed just three hours ago he wasn't able to sleep any more. Lately his dreams had begun to become disturbing. Disturbing in a way that made him feel slightly awkward. Not that he showed it to anyone, but deep deep down in a corner far away in his mind the silver haired knew that this was going some direction he was uncomfortable with. While he was usually a person being able to control himself, he was rather headless at moments like this. He wasn't dizzy, he wasn't light-headed, he wasn't thinking less – he was just not himself. At least he didn't feel like himself. He didn't feel like Ayanami Arawn Éléazar. He felt not like Verloren either. There was just an empty person, with a death god embracing him, making his stomach feel weird.

As the silence kept creeping into his nothing filled mind, he silently slit the door open and entered his room. Unapproachable at day, he was very approachable at night. Not that he would seek human contact or even his longing for such grew. Plainly said his mind just had a widened range for the things around him. Maybe the word sensitive was in fact more accurate for his current condition. Ayanami was sensitive to the utmost of his being and cause of that he felt approachable.

Without making the faintest noises he pulled open one of the drawers at his desk. It had a false bottom where he kept his secrets hidden. One of them was think black book without a lock and any description. It was a dream diary, not his first and certainly not his last, but it wasn't due to Verloren that he had started writing them down. Though now it came in handy to get even the slightest grip of the death gods memory. As a child he had never dreamt much, at least that was his belief until he was told that everyone dreamt and that he just wasn't remembering. After that he had told himself to remember his dreams before going to sleep. A simple spell. I will remember my dreams tomorrow morning. It hadn't worked from the start, but after some years of remembering every single dream he had started writing them down.

Since then it had been the only constant thing in his life. Constant. He liked constant things, not that he disliked change. Change could be a good thing. Still he liked some things to never change. As he played absent mindedly with his pen he tried to put his thoughts in order. The dream was still clear in his mind, he just felt uncomfortable with recalling it. That the recovered memory was clouded and in a shambles was a just lazy excuse not to occupy himself with the details of it.

Kisses mixed with laughter. Rough but somewhat gentle hands ruffling his hair. Tugging that became pulling on clothes as the breathing grew heavier and soft moans were escaping their lips. Warm skin to warm skin. Hearts pounding like mad. Moaning. Soft whispers and words he couldn't understand, though he felt like they were imprinted into his mind. Imprinted into him.

His train of thought stopped at this point and he looked down at the words he had written. As always, when he wrote down Verlorens memories he never used the first person. While Ayanami did feel connected in bond to the death god, he was clearly aware of the fact that Verlorens past life wasn't and had never been his life. Just like the Seven Ghost needed one, his body was nothing more than a vessel to Verloren. Though in his case it was a bit more complicated. He wasn't sure about the details, but the silver haired knew this much: Verloren was the first thing he had ever seen in his life and their souls had been bound together for several previous lives, maybe ever since. And because of that, even though his dreams lately had the tendency to disturb him slightly, he could manage to get enough distance not to mind the fact that apparently Verlorens sex partner had been male. Not that it actually bothered him. It just wasn't the thing he was used to be dreaming about.

In fact he had some experience himself, he just preferred the women. Male sex partner. Ayanami scribbled the words down thoughtless. He had learned that it was easier to get information out of his mind, when he wasn't thinking too much. That way he tricked his subconscious to slip information he needed.

blond

memory can't reconstruct face

black clothing – both

deep voice

emotional connection

As his hand stopped, he began to focus his eyes on the words he had scribbled right next to male sex partner. Uncertain if able to leave it the way it was, he began to scribble down other details he remembered. Sadly nothing helped to find out who that ominous blonde was. With a quiet thud he closed the book and put it back into its hiding place. Fun time was over. Silly saying. He didn't consider this fun. It wasn't work either. It was just necessary.

For a short while the amethyst eyes rested on the reddish glowing letters on the clock. "Four fifty-seven", he read by just moving his lips. Quite a nice time to get back to work. There was still plenty to do and why bother not wearing a uniform, it was long before anyone would get up.

As the sun was rising Ayanami saw a need for showering and changing his clothes. As short and less his dreams were getting lately, their weirdness increased rapidly. He couldn't see the link, neither could he feel it inside Verloren. Usually there was even just the faintest glimpse of recognition by the death god. Not this time. It seemed like the memories where as unfamiliar to his alter ego as to himself. Per day there were just a few rare moments at which he was truly honest with himself, about his innermost feelings and now this was something that somewhat scared him for real. Almost nothing ever scared him.

And when it came to this point it actually was just because of Verloren. Even during the time he had been still asleep, he had felt his powers lying somewhere hidden inside him. Powers that made him superior. Powers of which just a glimpse was like a tornado to the thunderstorms of his opponents.

His pale skin was barely covered with scars, though he still looked awesomely perfect he disliked every single inch of scar tissue covering his skin making it less perfect than he felt. A bad habit of his was rubbing a small nearly non-visible scar on his left collarbone, when rapt in thought. It had the length of half his index finger and he was fine with it as long as it was covered by his uniform. But every time he got a slightest chance on laying his fingers on it, he immediately did so. Though hating it, touching the scar reminded him of being human. Something he lately forgot way to easily.

And as his eyes met his reflections', he just stood still for a moment. He had disliked mirrors ever since, cause they made him see how imperfect his body was. Same moment he realised he was human. Human as a synonym for vulnerable. Looking away he grabbed for his coat and put it on. The heavy winter uniforms fabric covered the unsightly imperfectness again, as he finally stepped out the bath room. A few strands of hair still wet, were leaving little marks on his standing collar. They would dry soon enough.

The fire had been out for quite a few hours now, not that Frau minded, around them there way miles of nothing but rocks, sand and dust. Soon the sun would rise again to shine upon their lives in vain. Why was it that everyone seemed to be blessed with soundly sleep, while he felt so restless and exhausted at the same time. Two hours. That was this nights total. As stinging cold in his right arm reminded him that there was no way he would eventually get more sleep in the next few days. As long as the fire had been burning, there had been something to lay his eyes on. Something to stare blank holes into. Now there were only Teito and his hawk zile left. One thing to tempt him and one thing to remind him of long forgotten dreams.

A needle less cold, but just as sharp pierced his heart. All that he was left with were two stupid earrings and an unsatisfied love. For his liking one heart was not enough for a pirate, cause for one a pirate gave all his love already to the raging seas or to the heartless winds. While the sea was often compared with a woman, he had never heard of a similar metaphor for the winds. Then still he liked to think of them as guarding ghosts. Female of course. The winds had been the only constant love in his life. They were never leaving and he was sure they never would. It wasn't that he didn't care for Teito. That he hadn't become someone somehow important to him. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to rent some space in his heart to someone. He was just not willing to give away his whole heart, because he disliked graves.

It had been long before Bastiens death he had agreed to that with himself. A deep growl inside his head interrupted his thoughts. "Shut up...", he mumbled, careless. As if it will listen anyway. It never did. It didn't like him. He didn't like it either, thus he named it fleabag. In return it caused him pain, as always. It would never change.

Parasite.

Filthy fucking parasite couldn't keep it's mouth shut. Frau grumbled himself into silence. Why was he left awake in anxiety? What for? What for all this time killing? What for the tension? There wasn't going to happen anything at all in the end. The scythe had been there before Teito. There had been hard times before. There had been food that wasn't for eating before. So what did it make so hard? Ah, right.

Sometimes he knew just to well, how the boy felt. It made him approachable for the brunette, though often in a weird way. Just cause he understood, didn't mean he had sorted it all out for himself. There was still a lot about his past he had left untouched. Of course he remembered. He had a better memory than he was fine with, thus he liked to stay away from it. Sleeping dogs were harmless, awake though...

As the first few flashes of sunlight where lightening the sky his eyelids grew heavy and he was silently laughing himself into sleep. How pathetic as if the day wasn't as horrifying as the night! Hopefully the scythe wasn't moving his body in his sleep. Though sleep walking had never been a problem, since they were out alone in this desert, it maybe would become a problem to them.

Maybe it was an hour, maybe two he considered as he was woken up by that noisy brat. In fact he wondered if humans knew how loud they actually were most of the time. But apparently they never noticed, so he kept wondering how he should be able to sleep at all with Teito by his side. Neither awake nor asleep was an acceptable condition to him. As to speak for the scythe, asleep was the preferred state.

Frau rubbed the sleep out his eyes, while he stood up to get some life back into his stiff body. Joints were creaking as he pulled the last bits of himself together, trying not to loose his senses. He wasn't anyway, he was just being careful, not give the fleabag any opportunity to take over. "The fire was out, why did you let the fire burn out?"

"As if there is anything here to kill us...!"

"Ayanami is", his voice was calm, still you could somehow feel the undertone trembling with anger and hatred.

"If so, the burning fire had been like a flare to him..." He felt way to weary to talk, even to open his eyelids and as always Teito didn't care. Something was shoved into the blonds mouth and as his hand grabbed for whatever shorty was trying to feed him with, he realised what it was. He was nibbling on dried cold meat from yesterdays whatever. As far as he remembered it had been something lizard like. Sometimes Frau wondered what he was eating for anyway. His body wasn't in need of food or anything. Just something to keep him from freezing.

Ayanami for his part wasn't freezing at all. For one it was due to his winter uniform and for another it was due to his air-conditioned ship. Statue like he was sitting in his chair, flipping through the folders, signing pages now and then. Rustling paper, sometimes the steady thud of his biro tip on the paper just to add another letter, word or signature. Writing reports was in fact one of his most hated jobs. Why was there any reason in reporting, when nobody was fine with his doings anyway? It bothered him that he had to justify his actions to a bunch of unsympathetic "%&§/() old geezers. Aloud he would never have said this, but it made the writing easier. His lack of sleep did the rest to lower his inhibition level. "Aya-tan." Way to early, but yes that had to be Hyuuga. Some kind of noise which stated his attention was given left his throat. "How long did you sleep tonight?" Another noise came from the silver haired men's throat. This time it escaped followed by a deep grumble, which stated he wasn't pleased about the direction this was going. Any other person wouldn't have been able to read anything into the low noises and hm's Hyuuga had to consider himself satisfied with. Any other person also hadn't a history of long-term autogenic training in decoding Ayanamis answers.

Usually the priest tended to suffer from narcolepsy not from insomnia. But either way it only stated that his wake-sleep-rythim was screwed up anyway. Sadly enough he knew it was scythe that caused it. However as Teito was it who kept him awake, this time it was no direct influence. He didn't want to get started about his narcolepsy. His body just freaked out, when it came to the damage the scythe caused. If he had known that Ayanami too, though for different reasons was haunted by insomnia, maybe he wouldn't have thought bad about it. He would have smirked, enjoying his enemies suffering. One day the scythe would go back into its owner hands, then his burden would be gone. His preferred vision was a dead Ayanami and destroyed Verloren and scythe though. That was splitting hairs anyway. "You're not all here yet", Teito examined his condition with almost frightening perfection as the blond stared into to sky above them.

"Just thinkin' kiddo", he grumbled annoyed, while fumbling out a cigarette from the packet in his hand. Within minutes his mood had slipped from bad to worse, as he was forced to eat this morning and Teito, as being the cause, had to endure it.

"How many miles till we reach the next town? I'm sick of seeing rocks and dust and rocks and dust and rocks and dust..."

"More than enough for you not to care."

"Humph. It's not my fault you can't sleep." Frau had been wondering, about that the past few nights. Though now it became irrelevant to ask.

"Shut up. Sit down. We're flying!" Clearly it was his fault he couldn't sleep.