Hey! Taking a note from the reviews, I've made this chapter longer. I think this will be the average length from here on out. you so much for the support so far – it's a real treat to have readers review my work; I feel truly privileged when I check in and find more people have not only read my stuff, but also taken the time to leave me a comment. So, again, thank you very much! On with it then…

No characters are mine; this is a work BFFF (By Fans For Fans).

CHAPTER 3

"The Silence is approaching…"

I bolt upright with a barely concealed scream. My chest heaves with panicked breaths. I run my hands over my face and through my hair as my pulse returns to normal. I look over at my clock – 3:30am, same as last night. I resign myself to the fact I'll be getting no more rest tonight and begin to get dressed. My dream persona always wears a white oxford shirt with a black tee and blue jeans, so I always dress the same way whenever I'm too haunted by the dream to fall back to sleep. Then, I walk. And I walk and I walk… until my feet ache, or until I have to be at the track or at school, whichever comes first. I'm not superstitious about anything else in my life, but part of me hopes that dressing the same as my dream-self might get me answers. The logical side of my mind turns its' nose up at the notion, but my emotional side is so tightly wound already that its' willing to try anything.

When these restless nights befall me, and I turn to walking, I always find my soles carrying me to either the river or the lake by my apartment. At either place, I feel slightly soothed by the dark water, or the moonlight glowing on the surface, and there always seems to be a breeze that cools my nerves. Tonight is no different; when I reach the fishing pier, the brilliant moonlight's reflection lulls me into a light trance. As I watch the water ebb and flow ever so little, seemingly matching my heartbeat, I notice the breeze rustling my hair. Suddenly, I feel a power in the wind, stirring something deep inside my soul. I can barely grasp a feeling of familiarity at this power, but just as I do, I hear my dream girl's unmistakable voice.

"We must find the Messiah…. Quickly…." My eyes snap open; I didn't even realize that I had closed them. I feel warmth fading from the center of my forehead too. I rub the spot and the warmth disappears – what a strange time for a headache. I hadn't had a headache in years; I must be concentrating too hard on this growing enigma. I knew that voice all too well. My dream goddess had just reached me tonight, while I was awake? She had said Messiah – the word conjures memories of the stained glass windows at the church from my childhood. A Messiah; how would he or she fit into the mystery of the devastatingly destructive force the girl in my dreams calls The Silence? I let out an exasperated sigh and being walking again, changing my path to head towards the café I haunt at these hours. If Chiba-san shows up there too, I'm going to ask for more details from his dream. Perhaps our visions will fit together and reveal more about where all this is headed.

As I walk in, I don't see him, so I sit in my typical booth and order a black coffee with two spoons of sugar. Something from the last hour is pulling at my consciousness; a nagging feeling of a memory I can't bring into focus. I stir my drink until it forms a vortex – an old habit of mine.

"…eep Submer-" I hear while I watch the spinning chocolate liquid. My breath hitches and my limbs freeze mid-stir. I can't tell where what I just heard came from, and that nagging feeling remains; perhaps even growing stronger. A full minute passes and life continues as normal with no further ghostly whispers or fragmented visions. I pinch the bridge of my nose; if I wasn't so stubborn, I'm willing to bet that all of this would've already driven me to the asylum. Chiba-san walks in at this moment and I allow myself a humorous laugh at the timing. He looks the same as always: thoughtful, but exhausted, with a crease of either concentration or worry across his brow. Or both, and I wouldn't be surprised if my own appearance mirrored his.

Just like yesterday, I pick up my coffee and walk up to sit beside him. He glances up as I settle in.

"Rough night?" He repeats my question from last night with a barely noticeable smirk

I return his smirk and nod. "Yup. You?"

He stifles a yawn while nodding. "Every night is rough these days."

We sit there in silence for a while, both wanting answers but neither knowing exactly what to ask. He rubs his temples and plows forth.

"Does she ever ask you to find anything?"

I fail to hide the shock on my face, and I think he notices. My dream-girl had only mentioned the Messiah just tonight… how long has he been searching all ready? Or, did she just reach out to him about it tonight as well? I can't tell how he's interpreting my shock, so I try to recover.

"Actually, yes, but," I pause to gage his reaction. He's listening intently, clearly keenly interested, "I'm not sure I understand what it might mean. I mean, I understand the words, of course, but I can't even begin to fathom where to begin looking." He looks so conflicted at my answer that I don't know what to say next. I can clearly see him deflate just a bit at my confirmation that our dream princess is imploring both of us to find something. I also see his expression tighten with newborn confidence. He looks over to me and speaks with a tone of certainty he hadn't used before.

"Perhaps we should work together; two minds are better than one, right?" He holds his hand out for me to shake, as if agreeing to a contract or deal. I hesitate for just a moment; for something so personal, I would usually prefer solitary work. However, the voices of my teammates and crew members float through my mind and I realize I'd be falling back into my standard habits if I refused help – something told me this camaraderie couldn't hurt in solving this issue. A team could be just two people working together, right?

"I agree." I say warmly, but still a little solemnly as my pride practically winces from my rather quick acceptance of the help of nearly a stranger with an originally, completely, personal matter. I clasp his hand tightly to shake on the arrangement… and my heart skips a beat.