The hot steam rose in wafts over the shower.
He rubbed at his face in attempt shake off the residue.
He was stepping out, grabbing for a towel when a hand was on his shoulder, stopping him.
He felt a kiss planted between his shoulder blades. He smothered the smile that was threatening to spill over on his face.
"Don't go," he heard him whisper behind him.
He gave almost a sigh-one of frustration and also longing.
"You know how this works."
He drew him back in the shower as if he didn't even hear him.
After a long round two he chanced stepping out of the shower again-the bathroom was a cloud of massive steam by that time.
He wrapped a towel securely around his waist and wiped at the huge mirror that was fogged up.
His stony face was impassive-his eyes almost dead.
Almost dead-there was still a spark of life in there somewhere reserved for his children and his lover.
He rubbed at his face again shaking his head a little.
He quickly exited the muggy bathroom and murmured to him that he would be where he always was.
He quickly dressed and opened the big doors that lead out to the expansive patio.
It was the view that always drew him there. They were high above the city, tucked into the hills and a million stars were out.
The moon was heavy and full in the sky. He felt powerless to watch it. He clasped his hands on the balcony railing, gripping it tightly.
He lit a cigarette as he liked to do after sex and imagined the plumes of smoke were wafting up to the heavens and stars to mingle with them.
How he would love to escape to those stars. He reached out a hand to them in a weak attempt to capture some of their glory.
Arms were around his waist then-it was always the same scenario.
He felt the cool kiss on the back of his neck.
"I'm not enough for you?" It was playfully said.
He shook his head glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the familiar smile was still on his lips. It was.
He took a long drag exhaling, depositing ash over the balcony railing, turning to look at him finally.
"Why is it always night? Don't you like the daytime?"
He shrugged taking another long drag.
"I find more solace in the night." Before he could take another drag he intercepted him and stole it out of his deft fingers playfully. His hands always needed to be busy. He didn't smoke normally-only when he was doing it. He told him he was a bad influence but it didn't stop him. Whatever he did he followed suit. He didn't know if he thought it was endearing or annoying.
He was leaning his arms back against the railing facing him. They were taking each other in-getting lost in each other's blue eyes.
He leaned over him, cigarette dangling from his mouth, both hands on the railing on either side of him.
His cool eyes were challenging him.
"You look gorgeous in the moonlight Mr. Charles. That's why you do it right?" He was wearing his sarcastic smirk.
Dom stole the cigarette back.
"You can't see my imperfections that way," he winked.
His eyes were drawn to the brilliant night sky once again, smoke circling above his head but he was bringing his face back to him-leaning into him for a kiss. Just as their nicotine breath was about to mingle, lips about the brush...
"Dad, Dad, Dad!"
Dom's eyes flew open to bright light and the screams of Phillipa. She pounced on the bed on top of him like a cat.
Dom was very aware of his morning wood. He tried his best to hide it-willing it to go down. He didn't want to alarm his daughter.
He had woken up from the same dream almost every night.
It was very different now after inception. Before he never dreamed and now he had long sex dreams with...
"Dad," his daughter giggled and got right in his face.
"Dad, wake up! James and I want pancakes!"
Dom yawned and tickled his daughter under her arms sending more echoes of giggles into the room.
"All right," he sat up moving Phillipa over on the side of the bed.
"Give Daddy a moment and I'll make you whatever you want." He was spoiling them rotten these days but he justified it as making up for lost time.
Phillipa grinned hugely, having gotten her way, vaulting off the bed running out of the room.
She was seven now, James was five. They were growing up so fast. He spent a year away from them after Mal's death and he knew sadly that he could not get that year back.
Though he got his sanity back, sort of. He still thought of Mal from time to time and had visions of limbo and he almost always shuddered in spite of himself.
As much as he willed it to go away his morning wood was still present. He groaned deeply in the back of his throat, disgusted with himself.
He drew out his top, his totem from the nightstand drawer giving it a good spin on the nightstand. It spun weakly for a while before stopping and rolling over on its side. Old habits die hard.
A quick hot shower took care of his erection problem. He tried hard to not picture his face as he rubbed it out.
He tried to confide in Miles about the dreams-without really telling him what they were about realizing that he wouldn't get much help.
Miles was very pleased he was dreaming again but Dom just shook his head almost out of disgust.
He felt like a pervert.
He was dreaming about the mark from the last job he took!
Miles told him not to analyze it too much-to just go with it. He was healing, moving past Mal and the dreaming was all part of the process. Dom really wanted to believe that-truly.
If only Miles knew the half of it.
He went through all the emotions about the dreams he had about Robert Fischer-anger, sadness, bewilderment, confusion, guilty happiness and finally acceptance. So he suppressed it, hid the dreams, telling no one and just went with it.
Once he stopped worrying about it he almost dare he say-enjoyed them a little though he would never admit that to anyone.
He hadn't been with men before (which again brought on the onslaught of emotions) but after Mal maybe he was up for a change? He shook his head-but he wasn't gay. Was he? He buried that down too.
His children were top priority now. There was no time for complicated, dangerous jobs, figuring out his sexual preference or romance-he was retired in all these categories.
He was just finishing up shaving when James came meekly into the bathroom-peaking around a corner.
"Dad? Are you going to make breakfast now?"
He wiped his face and scooped James up in his arms-he was getting so big now. Not a little boy anymore.
"Yes I will," he planted a kiss on his cheek, James struggling against him telling him: "Eww, gross no kisses from daddy!"
When the pancakes were made and his children were planted in front of the television complacent he perched himself at the kitchen island, his usual spot, and ate his toast, drinking his strong coffee mulling over a newspaper.
He scanned various headlines never really stopping and absorbing anything. He had so little time to read these days-Phillipa was on summer break from school, their Grandmother was visiting other family and Miles was back in Paris so he had his kids full time now.
He flipped to the business section of the paper and he knew selfishly why. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't checking up on him but he couldn't help it. When you have a dream about someone almost every night you tend to get a little curious.
He had read about the ongoing, long battle to dissolve the Fischer Morrow company. Robert was mentioned a lot in those heated articles. This had gone on for a year now. Saito had phoned him a couple times to catch up and of course was ecstatic and reaped all the benefits for his company-Proclus Global. Soon he would have no competitor at all.
This article was different though, centered on Robert himself. It touched on the background-the controversial issue of the huge company disbanding, the shareholders in an outrage, thousands out of work, etc but in the paragraphs following it said that Robert was devoting his time and efforts into another project-the long process of a custody battle.
Dom was confused. He reread the article carefully just to make sure he understood the words correctly. In all the research that Arthur had done on Fischer for the job there was no mention that he was a father. Did it just happen recently? He pored over the article and found no indication on how old the child was.
He didn't realize he was just sitting there- in the bright kitchen, barely blinking, mouth hanging open slightly, staring off into space until he felt a tug on his pants leg bringing him back to reality.
"Dad. We're gonna play outside ok?" Phillipa was beaming up at him.
Dom blinked rapidly trying to bring himself back to the present.
"Yeah, sure honey but just stay in the yard ok?"
Phillipa rolled her big blue eyes and grunted, small hands on hips. She was at that age when she didn't want to be treated like a baby, she was a big girl now-Dom had to keep reminding himself of that.
"Yeah I know!" she said with mock frustration at her Dad's ignorance.
"All right honey. Play nice, have fun."
He dismissed her and was back to his newspaper article. There was a photo of Fischer stepping out of the court house-paparazzi hot on his heels.
Dom wondered faintly if Fischer liked his new life now after they planted inception.
He threw the newspaper in the recycling bin angrily, berating himself for caring.
He was retired now though he was entertaining the notion of getting a part time job once the kids were back in school-James would be starting kindergarten this fall which meant both children would be gone all day. He would have more time to himself during the day which for him wasn't always good.
He laughed to himself lightly as he cleaned up the kitchen, his eyes darting to the window every once in a while that overlooked the backyard where his children were playing.
What kind of job could he dream of getting that would satisfy him? He was a dream extractor-a dangerous but thrilling job that could pay very, very well.
They were living off the inception job money but that would run out eventually.
He was loading the dishwasher, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder watching Phillipa doing cartwheels, the morning sun in her hair. James was trying to replicate what she was doing but failing horribly. He followed her like a shadow.
Dom thought of his own shadow person, the person that mimicked him in the dreams-even dressing like him from time to time, pleasing him, letting him do whatever he wanted to him.
The plate slipped from his hands smashing to the title floor-porcelain flying everywhere.
He groaned loudly. He really needed to get a hobby. These dreams he was having were taking a hold of him and he knew how that worked on him before.
He had almost died and got stuck in limbo.
He left the plate and ran into the bedroom realizing he was being completely ridiculous. He left his totem in the nightstand drawer-partially retired like himself. He took it out and dropped it-watching it spin crazily before landing on its side and rolling.
He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, his heart racing.
He needed to get a grip. He knew how to rectify that but it would have to wait.
He heard the playful screams of his children from outside.
He grabbed a broom and dustpan and began to sweep up the broken dish, patting his totem in his pocket as he did.
He didn't know what was harder-dissolving the company or getting his son back. Well, that probably wasn't the right word choice. "Back" implied he had him to begin with. He never had him, he wasn't his. He was getting his son-that probably sounded better.
The growing feeling of getting his son started that day he landed in LA after the long flight from Sydney.
It grew at a fever pitch as he was dealing with lawyers to get the company divided.
It was the unknown that finally brought him to his knees. His whole life from day one was planned out carefully for him. Now that his father was dead and buried and the company was done for he had nothing. His life was completely open.
That's why he wanted his son in the states, with him. To give him the life that he never had.
This was painstakingly hard to achieve. Though Natalia was not around all the time, the nannies practically raising Julian which paralleled his own scarred youth, she still loved him which was evident in the fight she put up. Offers after offers were given in terms of money and visiting rights but she turned them all down.
The story was blown wide open as the custody battle ensued.
Robert didn't care. He hid his whole life AND his son's life and he was tired of hiding.
His uncle tried contacting him repeatedly-advising him: "not to do this." Whatever that meant. Robert thought it could have been an attempt to maintain his reputation but after disbanding the company whatever little reputation he had was lost.
He had paparazzi on him constantly. He quickly hired personal security. He had offers everyday for phone and TV interviews for various talk shows and news programs. Everyone seemed fascinated at the fact that he was turning his back on a multi- billion dollar company-a lifestyle everyone always wanted. He turned them all down. He just wanted his son-he didn't care about the wealth. He wanted to start over.
So the battles raged on. His days and nights ran together. Dissolving the company and running to one group of lawyers. Custody battle, courtroom appearances and running to another set of lawyers. He barely slept-pouring over those law books hoping he could find loopholes so he could have full custody of his son.
And there were a couple but nothing too big or glaring. There was Natalia's line of work or lack thereof and how she was only living off the money that Robert provided her. And then there was the idea that his son would live a better, happier healthier life in the states being raised by him and not the nannies.
Court date after court date-debates, offers, refusals. Robert thought that he was losing weight he couldn't afford to lose and his chunks of his hair were turning white from stress.
Finally when Robert didn't think he could take any more and was at his wits end one of his lawyers on his team had delved into Russian records after much finagling and found out that Natalia had been married three times-none lasting more than a few months because of cheating.
This was an opening, the break they needed.
Then the nasty things came out but they blew wide open her infidelities. She caved then to a new offer-a huge lump sum and once a year visitation rights which he doubted that she would take up anyway.
He had his son! He was so deliriously happy but exhausted at the same time. He slept for nearly three days after the last courtroom appearance and ruling.
But then the panic set in.
He had no idea how to raise a child!
He was building a new more modest home which he guessed was still pretty large-nothing too lavish like the mansion he was enslaved to for so many years.
He was taking huge pride in building portions of it as well.
It had been so long since he held a saw, getting down and dirty. It felt wonderful.
He wiped at his sweaty brow, exhaling hot breath.
He was living in a hotel for the time being. He would pick up his son the next afternoon.
He was a huge ball of nerves and realized he was working himself half to death to distract himself, to keep his hands busy.
Everything was coming together. So why did it feel like a chunk was missing?
He needed the other piece of the puzzle but it was the hardest piece to obtain.
He was going off a dream. The same dream in fact that he had almost every night.
Mr. Charles-"the head of his security".
Robert released a little sarcastic laugh and went back to cutting pieces, laying them in a meticulous pile to be put together for their future deck.
He had no head of security to keep out extractors it was just his subconscious playing tricks on him.
But why did he feel he knew him?
Though he couldn't remember every aspect of the dream he remembered him clearly and seeing his father in the hospital bed, clinging to the last thread of life telling him he was disappointed in him for trying to be him.
Robert guessed he was remembering the most important parts?
When Robert was getting his luggage in baggage claim that day he arrived in LA he swore he saw him-a flash of dirty blond hair, steely blue eyes, hard face and goatee.
He blinked and the man had turned his back and continued to walk away briskly.
He chalked it up to a figment of his imagination, his mind playing tricks on him.
He had the dream about him that first night- Mr. Charles and him in the throes of passion, giving it to Robert hard, Robert excepting it easily, willingly.
He thought it was his subconscious that couldn't let go of the idea of someone protecting him-guiding him. But night after night it was always the same.
Robert always woke hot and bothered having to take care of things when he woke from those vivid dreams.
And then the search for him began. So amidst the long process to end his father's company and getting his son he also was searching for someone. He really had no life. He hired private investigators who found no one matching the description he gave them with the last name "Charles". He tried desperately not to become discouraged. He felt he lost the round but not the match.
To feed his desires he took up with men-but only ones that looked like him.
He even stooped so low to try to have one gigolo-too tall to be his Mr. Charles but looked vaguely like him in the face and the hair was a close match-cut his hair like Mr. Charles and slick it back, grow a goatee and put in blue contacts.
The man was resistant.
"I get it man, I do. You're not over an old boyfriend or something and you're recreating him right? I'll wear the clothes but I don't cut my hair or put contacts in-that's where I draw the line!"
Robert tried to bribe him with money but the man still wouldn't do it. Robert abandoned him and continued his quest bitterly to find the right substitute.
No man however close they looked or acted staved his appetite though. He wanted the real deal.
But how do you find a man that only lives in your dreams? A man that could surely just be part of your imagination?
Robert didn't know.
He would sit for long hours thinking of the dream he had on the flight-trying to imprint every detail about him in his mind.
Then he thought about what he thought he saw at the airport when he was in baggage claim.
Could it be a coincidence? Robert didn't think he believed in coincidences anymore after he had the dream that changed his life.
He set out then to research the enigma that was one very suave Mr. Charles.
He had his one man in his life now he needed the other.