A/N: I'm sorry it was confusing. It was a dream, or perhaps more accurately, a premonition, Dave had. I didn't think it would confuse the readers so much...


Prompt Forty-Four : Nemesis

Dave's eyes slowly opened. He stayed still in bed, taking a moment to recognize his surroundings. He was relieved when he saw that he was in his bedroom at Arcana Cabana. Only could Balthazar's hardly-for-sale antique shop have those hideous brown and yellow wallpaper. Dave slipped out from his bed, wobbling a little. He guessed this was the after-effect of his odd dream. Odd…or presumably real, Dave thought in his head as he pulled on a clean shirt and some jeans.

He took another minute to check out his new room. It looked so different than his apartment. After lunch with his father, Derrick, he was allowed to go back to the apartment under Veronica's supervision. Becky and Dave packed here, taking his portable laptop and such. Dave memorized much of his old home as possible, so he wouldn't forget the next time he arrived here.

Dave walked down the stairs quietly. He wasn't feeling so great, which was another symptom the nightmare had caused. It wasn't so frightening, what with the slow, easy conversation and his familiar Tesla coils. But it scared Dave because it sounded like he had been ripped away from his past family and friends. Dave paused on the tenth step. Wouldn't being an amnesiac already have ripped you away? Dave decided to ignore his thoughts.

"Balthazar left at first light, along with Ezra and the others. He'll be back around supper. We should all eat together."

"A special dinner would be nice." Dave recognized the voice as Becky's. "We could celebrate the engagement between you two."

Engagement? What did that mean? Was she referring to an event or a marriage? Dave silently shook his head. It was stupid of him not to know before. Of course Balthazar had proposed. After all, he was definitely in love with Veronica, and was bound to bring out a ring sooner or later. Dave felt a smile form on his face. It felt good to know that he hadn't disrupted everyone's schedule entirely.

He wanted to move downstairs so he could greet the pair, and apologize for getting up so late, but then he heard Veronica say, "That's a nice idea. Should we go wake Dave? Maybe he'd like to help."

"I think he has homework. I finished mine some time ago, but the professors here are not merciless." Veronica laughed. Becky continued. "He has to catch up on a lot, so I don't think it would be in our best interest to ask him. He really has to complete the assignments."

"I see," Veronica said. "That's all right; we can make the supper and when we're all here, we'll tell him about the plans. Unless you have something else to do?"

"No, no. I would love to help," Becky replied. "But I think I should check on Dave every fifteen minutes or so. The amnesia… It's been hard on him."

"On all of us, Becky," Veronica said softly. "Dave's a very brilliant person. He'll adjust sometime in the future. He's determined; in fact, he's already becoming quite comfortable with his current environment."

"Yeah, I've noticed that…but it's just frustrating. The trackers are tracking for their second day. Balthazar, a great sorcerer, couldn't find any trace of them. I'm sorry for that, Veronica. Balthazar's giving it his all. I feel like I have to point that out."

"We'll find something eventually. I hope you don't fret so much. Depression favors us in terrible circumstances."

"Thanks," Becky said, but it sounded like she didn't mean it as much. "I appreciate what you're all doing for him. For us. I wish this happened to someone else instead of Dave."

A gasp. It was clearly from Becky.

"Sorry, Veronica," she hastily added. "I shouldn't have said that. No one has to go through what Dave's going through."

"Dear, calm down… No one's blaming you; I understand your feelings. You didn't mean it."

"I really didn't."

"Of course," Veronica agreed.

Dave heard the older woman mention shopping for gowns, but the words that flowed from their lips were blocked by his ears. He didn't want to hear anything more. Dave quickly rushed down the stairs, miraculously avoiding tripping. He caught a glimpse of Veronica and Becky seated at a table. They were surprised to see him. Dave mumbled hurriedly, "I'm going out, be back soon." And then he threw on his coat and ran out the door.

Dave had no destination or actual plans. He just wanted to get out of Arcana Cabana. Hearing them talk like that was a slight wound from a knife. It didn't hurt that much because Dave knew they hadn't said rude words or implied anything. It did hurt that they spoke of his amnesia. He didn't like hearing them talk about it in the way one might speak of a deformity.

Dave took a sharp turn, thankfully getting out of a brick wall's way. He felt like a fool for even leaving. Arcana Cabana protected him and he wasn't safe on the outside. But right now, he really wanted to get out. Just to go someplace away from his stupid troubles.

Dave was comforted with the fact he was going to walk around on his own, rather than with his protector. Besides, Veronica and Becky needed alone time. To talk. That sort of thing. He was sure girls did that.

Dave slowed down. He eventually took on a steady, casual gait of a random civilian of New York, although he felt anything but.

His upset mood faded at once. He was greeted by lights, shops, towering skyscrapers, and groups of people. Dave was astounded by his home city yet again. It was impossible not to be awed when the colorful lights and signs bathed you in their fantasy-like glow. The wind licked his neck as he slowly turned his head to peer at stores. He couldn't help but chuckle when he saw a magic shop.

Dave soon wandered into the deeper parts of the place. He was barely near the outskirts but he sensed he was getting farther away from civilization. There were smaller groups here and a ton of people sitting on the street. The shops and stores were still bright though. It had a couple of clubs, but that was no problem. Dave wasn't going into them anyways.

He came to another corner but didn't turn. For one, he had gone too far, and for another, there was an elderly woman there. She was obviously struggling with her things. Two shopping bags were in her hands, as well as a couple of books and an umbrella. No one bothered to help her. Dave frowned at the clear injustice. He hurried over to the woman. She looked up, her eyes flashing.

Dave offered his palms in a surrender. "Would you like some help with your things, ma'am?" he asked politely.

A look of relief passed over her face. "Why, thank you," she said as he got her shopping bags and umbrella.

"It's no trouble," he said truthfully. It wasn't as if he were busy or anything.

"I appreciate it." She hesitated. "Do you suppose you could help me bring them back to my building?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not? Where do you live, Miss?"

She led him around the corner and through the streets. She walked a little limply but seemed to be in well enough shape for a woman of her age. Dave wondered why she was living in these parts of the city. There was nothing wrong with it, for now, he thought. Why wouldn't an elderly woman want to live in a less nosier place? Then again, there were nursing homes…

Finally they stopped at a building. It was made up of brown bricks and appeared to be in stable condition despite a couple of shingles missing from the roof. There was a side that was splattered with graffiti too. Dave frowned as she opened the door with an easy turn of the knob. No key? How was anyone safe in this building?

They came to the top floor. Dave passed slightly dirty halls that smelled of urine and peppermint, a disgusting combination. There were a couple of broken windows here on the inside that lined the dull walls. Dave could hear some scratching somewhere, which meant an animal was kept here. He was mystified. He couldn't imagine a cat or a dog living in these conditions. So much for stable.

She opened her door. Dave gaped at the inside of the room. It was a slice of what he could see, but still ugly enough. There was peeling paint off the walls and an odd smell rose from the area. A radiator could be heard shaking with heat.

"You live here?" Dave asked, incredulous.

He felt himself flying. His head smashed against the hard wall. A shriek tore through his lips. He moaned as his hands covered his head. He felt something wet. Nausea rose in his throat. He didn't have to look to know he was bleeding. His hair was soaked with red. Dave struggled to get to his feet, but such a feat was difficult when blood ran through his hair.

He was still lying on his back. His eyes could see black boots. He turned his head. The elderly woman was gone, replaced with a blonde, young girl. She was probably around Veronica's age, twenty-seven. Her face was twisted into a nasty sneer. It ruined her features.

Help an old lady with her things and this is what I get, Dave thought.

"Stupid," she said. There was disappointment in her eyes. "Didn't even bother to see if I had any magic on me."

Dave couldn't exactly respond. The loss of blood was making him dizzy. With his hardest efforts, he attempted to stop the flow. The woman didn't laugh, like he thought she would. She merely paced the room in a slow, orderly fashion.

"Supposed to kill you," she muttered under her breath.

Then why aren't you? Dave wanted to know. He winced as the pain sharpened.

A large ball of sparkling color hit the back of the blonde woman's head. She cried out in anger and pain as her body was thrown to the side of the room. Dave received a thrill of adrenaline. He jumped to his feet and tried to walk over to his savior. His eyes widened when he realized it was not Ezra or anyone else of the trackers. It was Jocelyn's small daughter Ilana. She held a glowing plasma bolt in her hands. A grin was across her face.

"That's some head injury," she whistled. "We can get that fixed up in no time. Let's get out of—"

Another plasma bolt whirled towards her, but she deflected it with her own bolt. The two collided, causing sparks to fly in the middle of the room. Dave stumbled back. The blonde was trying to create another plasma bolt, but Ilana was quicker. The woman dodged her attack, though.

There was an explosion in the hall. It sounded like furious winds. Dave was on the floor again, his head spinning and bleeding. He noticed a figure bending down. Percival. And there was Sterling too. He looked excited. Fire was forming in his hands.

"Dave," a familiar voice said. It was Balthazar, who was gently shoving Percival aside. "Dave," Balthazar said yet again. "We're going to get you out."

"Great," Dave mumbled.

.

.

.

"There was a fairly nasty wound on your head, but we stitched it up in no time," Meredith was saying. "You can barely tell you tripped."

Dave murmured something agreeable. He had woken up some time ago, only to be greeted by Meredith Weller. Meredith was the amnesia specialist at St. Carina's. Dave had met her but hadn't exactly remembered her. Meredith spoke with him about his head injury.

Dave hadn't seen anyone familiar in the room. They weren't allowed in until later, Meredith had said. Dave assumed they brought him back here and lied about his cut. He didn't know what happened to the building or the blonde who'd attacked him.

"How long will I be staying here?"

"You can go home after one more day," Meredith promised. "Paperwork and records are the only things making you stay. I'll call Mr. Blake when it's time for you to be picked up."

"Thanks, Ms. Weller," Dave said.

"You can simply call me Meredith. Everyone does, anyways. Except Dr. Connelly, but that isn't the point…"

She seemed to say his name in a snide fashion. Dave wondered what was the dynamic between the two. He gave up on it; it wasn't his business.

"I should get going," Meredith said. "Page me if you require anything."

"Thank you, Meredith," Dave muttered. He frowned even more deeply when she left. It was bad enough he had to go and get amnesia. And now he had a head injury. He should've noticed long ago he was dead weight. Or perhaps he shouldn't help elderly women anymore.


Maybe I should lay off the dreams for now. Or make them less puzzling, at least.

Jem Yorke