Disclaimer: the world ain't mine. If you recognize it from somewhere other than this story, it most probably belongs to the venerable Diane Duane. *bows before greatness*
Chapter 9: On The Edge
"I just don't understand it," Tom said for the twentieth time that day. The two boys were sitting on Tom's bed. It was a Sunday; though Tom usually went to church on Sundays, he'd begged off due to sleeping extremely poorly, which was quite true. Though he was absolutely exhausted, however, he couldn't sleep; he also felt the need to talk to Carl about that crazy dream of his.
"Neither do I," Carl replied wearily. "You sure it wasn't just a dream?"
"That's not exactly what I meant. It was definitely a dream. But I know that it was significant."
"But how d'you know that?"
"Carl," Tom said, looking his partner directly in the eyes, "I've had a lot of dreams. A lot of weird dreams. But I've only had a lucid dream once before, and I used it to fly around a mountain chain, not talk to a kid who was raped and tried to kill himself who I'd only met a week beforehand. And I could tell that it wasn't my dream; it must've been his, because I've never felt uncomfortable without prompting from a dream before, and he was the only other person there."
"Okay, okay," the older boy said with a shake of his head and a sigh. "Just trying to make sense of things, I guess."
"You and me both." Tom let out a huge yawn, stretched to relieve some of the tension in his back, and in a move designed to keep him upright and give him a pillow at the same time, rested his head on Carl's shoulder and closed his eyes.
Carl raised an eyebrow at this. Tom had never been too physically demonstrative before, probably because anything other than a playful punch to the arm might be taken the wrong way. It was a shame; but it was also a testament to how tired he was (and how close they were as friends) that he felt the need to lean on him. So he winced in sympathy instead of jokingly shoving Tom away from him. "I knew you were tired, but not quite that tired," he said from lack of anything else to say and a desire to keep Tom awake enough that he wouldn't feel guilty about fidgeting a little.
"Nnngh," came the articulate reply. "Comfy. I barely got 'ny sleep las' night. Flikcrp."
"What was that last bit?"
Tom was silent for so long that Carl thought he really had fallen asleep. Then the freshman cleared his throat quietly and whispered, more clearly this time, "I feel like crap."
"Think you're sick?" The sophomore brushed his hand against Tom's forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."
"Nnnooo. Not sick. Just worn out. Dead. Emotionally and physic'ly." Despite his somewhat more stable position, Tom still managed to sway and nearly fall forward off the bed.
Carl threw his arm out just in time to catch his partner's weight, dislodging Tom's head from its perch. The Tom in question made a small noise of dissent and grabbed the arm in front of him, falling back onto his pillow and dragging Carl with him. "W-what...what're you...hey!" the sophomore spluttered. "Leggo, gerroff me!" He managed to free his arm from the freshman's grip and stand up so he was no longer lying beside the other boy. If Tom had had his eyes open, he would have seen a deep scarlet flush creep across his friend's face. Carl thanked the Powers That Be that this was not the case.
Tom let his displeasure be known by frowning petulantly, eyes still tightly shut. "Nnnngh..." he whined in complaint.
"Hush now. You need your rest. I'll see if I can keep your dreaming to a minimum."
"Mm," Tom said, nodding in assent. He sighed and made a contented sound as Carl pulled the rumpled blanket over him.
"Sleep well. I think I'll be going home soon if you're napping."
"Nnnn...don' go," Tom said, opening his eyes and staring blearily at Carl. "Please?"
Carl heaved a sigh of his own. "Okay. I'll research more and see if I can find anything more about dreams, and if not I'll work on the Speech. Sound good?"
"Mmhmm." Tom burrowed under the covers, and then he said a sleep- and blanket-muffled "Voo."
"Huh? What was that, Tom?"
But there was no answer. The freshman was fast asleep.
Carl squeezed his eyes shut, fervently thanking the Powers once again for keeping Tom's own eyes closed when he'd been pulled down to the bed. The blush still burned on his cheeks and tops of his ears. He'd never quite had the courage or heart to tell Tom exactly who the guest star was in Tom's dream one week prior. Being pulled to the bed had sparked interesting, not-so-innocent memories. But it wasn't just the sex aspect of those memories. That kiss, for example...that kiss...
He felt a mental tug from Tom. Curious and glad of the distraction, Carl delicately followed the pull. It didn't feel like the dream a week ago had, and after hesitating for just an instant, his curiosity got the better of him. Besides, Tom needed his rest. He had to try to banish the dream so that his partner could sleep peacefully.
Carl recognized the wasteland immediately from Tom's numerous descriptions. His eyes widened. No, this definitely did not feel like a normal dream, not even a nightmare.
"Carl? What're you doing here?"
The sophomore jumped, then frowned. That was weird. Why did he have a body of his own in the dream? "I'm sorry. I was curious. And I said I'd try to keep you from dreaming, and I couldn't, and it didn't feel at all like the other dream, so..."
Tom nodded curtly and winced. "I told you, I'm sorry about that. But yeah, this is different. I should hope it's different. This isn't quite the ideal spot for...well, anyway. Here we are. D'you agree with me?"
"About what? Less than ideal spot for sex, or that it's important?"
"That it's important, smartass," Tom answered in exasperation, rolling his eyes and smacking his friend on the shoulder.
Carl laughed. "I'm a bad influence on you. You used to save cursing for special occasions." Then his brow furrowed. "Yeah...it does seem important." He froze, having just heard the sounds in the distance.
"I know, scary, isn't it?"
"No. Well, yes, but that's not—the laughter sounds like mine. And there's fire."
Tom blanched. "You're right. How could I not have noticed that! And why in the One's many names is Joshua Grogan dreaming about that?"
"Beats me. This is creepy."
"You're telling me."
"Wait. Tom, that's weird, look. That's the city skyline."
The younger of the two frowned. "That wasn't there last night. Okay, so at least we know something has to happen in Manhatt—"
The ring of the phone jolted them both awake. Tom sat up, heart pounding wildly, pupils dilated. He was practically hyperventilating. Carl fared slightly better; though his heart was thudding against his ribs, he was more used to waking up suddenly than his friend was, having used a harsh-sounding alarm clock for a few years now.
Carl chuckled. "Relax. Easy there, catch your breath. Let the phone ring. If it's important they'll call again." When Tom showed no signs of calming down, looking for all the world like a startled rabbit, Carl sat on the bed next to him and put a hand on his back. "Calm down. You're fine," he said in a voice that would have been soothing if he hadn't been struggling to hold in his laughter.
His breathing finally slowed, and with his breath came the presence of mind to look bashful. "Sorry 'bout that. I've been a little on edge lately."
The sophomore flashed him a sympathetic smile. "No problem." The phone stopped ringing, and he nodded, adding, "See? Not important. Probably some random relative of yours calling to talk about nothing."
"That sounds just like my Aunt Peggy," Tom sighed. "I love her to pieces. I really do. But she could talk for hours and hours and never actually say anything that matters." He grimaced as the phone started to ring again. "Guess you spoke too soon." The freshman got up and trudged to the source of the offending noise. "Hello, Tom Swale speaking, who is this?" His eyes widened. "Yeah, Josh, sorry I didn't pick up the first time. I was asleep and it scared the living daylights out of me."
"Oh, sorry. Um...I was wondering...can we go to the city?" Josh sounded agitated himself.
"T-to the city? Uh, sure, when?"
"I was thinking maybe now."
"Now? How come?"
"I...well...I get hunches sometimes. I have a hunch that we need to be in Manhattan sometime today."
"That is so trippy," Carl said from behind Tom. He'd followed him down the stairs to the phone when he'd heard the mention of Josh's name. The freshman put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion.
"Oh, Carl's there too? Bring him along. He needs to be there too."
"W-what? Why?"
"I don't know," Josh answered, sounding like he was pacing as much as his telephone cord would allow. "But we have to be there soon. Come on, please? I'll meet you at the bus stop in twenty minutes, yeah?"
Tom looked at Carl, who'd heard the whole conversation. His eyebrows were raised so high they'd shot up into his bangs, but he was nodding slowly. "Sure...but how will you bring Tilly?"
There was a short silence on the other end, and then a grim "I won't. I can't. She can't come with me this time. Thanks. See you soon. Bye."
"Bye," Tom said as the line went dead. With a shaking hand he put the phone back on its hook. "'Trippy' isn't quite the right word," he said quietly. "This is way past trippy. I just realized that I never told him your name. He never met you. How in the world did he recognize your voice?"
Carl's eyes widened, then he squeezed them shut. "Oh shit."
"Yeah. He must've been in that dream somewhere." Tom was ash-pale, and there were circles under his eyes from lack of decent sleep. "Do you have that icy claw of dread in the pit of your stomach that so many books talk about?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Funny, so do I." His voice sounded too calm, like he was forcing it on himself. "I always thought the authors were exaggerating, but I guess not."
"Come on," Carl said quietly. "Let's get our manuals. We'll be late."
Tom nodded mechanically and began the journey back to his room.
"Wait, Tom..." The sophomore's voice sounded unusually grave.
"Yeah?"
"I need you to promise me...promise me that if anything happens to me, you'll go on with your life. Don't be like Mr. Kolibri. Entropy is bad, but it's also kind of needed in the world, now that it's already there. It's change. Without change there's no growth. So...promise?"
Tom nodded, surprised by this paradoxically awkward display of eloquence. With a lump in his throat, he merely whispered, "Same for me?"
The dark-haired boy nodded as well, and a ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "And you were supposed to be the articulate one."
In a meek voice, almost as if he was afraid to be so bold, Tom asked, "Can I have a hug?" For answer, Carl wordlessly walked over and wrapped his arms around his partner, who did the same in return and sighed. Tom stood there for a moment, allowing himself to revel in the warmth and solidity his friend provided. He raised his hands. Paused with them a few inches from Carl's face. "May I?" he asked. At the other boy's nod, he traced his eyebrows with his thumbs. Tom ran his pointers over Carl's ears as his thumbs moved lower to brush against his cheekbones, then up again, then lightly down the straight line of his nose. Then along his jaw, finally ending with a feather-light touch at his lips. He was memorizing his friend's face, not just by sight, but by feel as well. On an impulse he cupped Carl's face in his hands and moved his own head close. Once again he stopped inches away, eyes questioning, giving the other every chance to protest or pull away.
He didn't. Tom pressed his lips against Carl's in a soft, chaste kiss. There were no sparks; no fireworks lit their minds. It was serious and tender, an expression of love without passion; and while not rushed, it was quiet and quick and simple. Tom pulled back and gave a half-smile at Carl's thoughtful nod, then laid his forehead against his partner's. Thank you, he said, even his mental voice quiet.
For what? Carl seemed genuinely puzzled. When Tom looked at him incredulously, the sophomore shook his head. "Don't thank me. It wasn't a favor." Before Tom could ask what that cryptic statement meant, he sighed, then regretfully drew away. "Come on," he said gently. "I hate to kill the mood, but we're going to be late."
Tom took a deep breath and nodded resolutely. "You know this is probably our Ordeal, right?" he asked. They had read up on Ordeals, but the Manual had been vague, just saying that each wizard was created to solve a specific problem. "Wonder what we're supposed to do?"
"Dunno. But Josh has something to do with it. And what about those dreams? But isn't he not a wizard anymore, or something?"
"No, he's still in the Manual. It says he's 'on hiatus', but he's still a wizard, even though he doesn't know it...wait a minute." Tom frowned, heading back to his room to pick up the book that had gotten him into this. "I know he tried to kill himself, almost certainly by cutting his wrist. Last night I saw a twelve- or thirteen-year-old Josh with a cut wrist. He was blind. Wizardry does not live in the unwilling heart, but it's not his heart that's unwilling, it's his mind..."
"This blind Josh was trying to find something. Something about having to help. Going to the source of the sounds—"
"—which we found out today was Manhattan. The real Joshua doesn't know why he's going, but the dream-Josh knows he has to help. And now we're going to Manhattan. Bringing Josh with us. Do you think we...?"
"Do I think we what, Tom?" Carl looked baffled by the entire thing.
Tom's expression went from concentrated to helplessly, bleakly amused. "Great. Wonderful. The only answer that fits is absolutely insane."
"What? What is it?"
The freshman dropped his head into his hands and laughed weakly. "I think last night I was talking to his wizardry, and we have to find a way to get him to be a proper wizard again."
Carl made a sound that was half groan, half chuckle. "You're right. That is insane. And because it's so crazy, that just might be what happened, and what we're supposed to do." Then he sobered. "But why the fire? And why was I laughing?"
"Good question," Tom answered briskly, grabbing his Manual and putting it into the nifty otherspace pocket he'd made after going to the park and having it be visible. It was such a hassle to have to carry it around all the time.
The two boys walked to the bus stop in silence. Josh was already there, even though they were early. He looked so lost and vulnerable without his faithful dog. The raven-haired boy looked up and ran over to them. "Oh, thank you for coming, I know it sounded crazy, but we have to be there today, I just know it. Look how terrible the traffic is, we'll never make it at this rate, the streets are all clogged up—"
Tom put a hand on his shoulder to stop his babbling. "Take it easy, Josh. We know we have to be here too."
"What...? You do? But how'd you and Carl—"
"Hi," said Carl, looking amused. "I'm Carl. I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I also don't believe I've even met you before."
Josh looked shaken; his mouth opened and closed as if he was a giant, humanoid halibut. "I...I didn't realize...I mean, I'm sorry, I don't know how..."
"Your dreams told you, didn't they?" Tom asked knowingly. "You knew him from a dream you had today. Am I right?"
Now Josh could only stare and nod, speechless.
"Yeah, I don't know how you managed it either," Carl said dryly. Then he took a breath and squared his shoulders. "Best get this over with...Dai stihó, cousin. We are on errantry and we greet you."
Yeeheeheehee! Oooh, the plot is picking up! After a run of shorter chapters, I thought it was time for this thing to finally make an appearance. I admit, the kiss took me by surprise, but they wanted something that wasn't mushy or romantic and that didn't change their relationship at all (yet).
Also, please don't hate me for the cliffhanger ending, but if I hadn't put the chapter break there you all would've had to wait longer for the next chapter.
Oh. I also changed the rating from M to T. I was originally going to have this have a decent amount of smut; now I'm rather leery of writing that, mostly because I'd forgotten that the characters are 14 and 15. Um no. SO what I might do to satisfy those people who want to see the sexual tension between these two be resolved is finish this story without anything too graphic, and write an M-rated sequel that's a few years down the road.
Also I may get more reads this way. *shifty eyes*
