I would change myself if I could
I would walk with my people if I could find them
And I'd say I'm sorry to you
I'm sorry to you
--from Deep Inside Of You by Third Eye Blind
Edith popped her head into the room.
"Kids, lunch is ready--" She stopped abruptly when she saw Micah. "What's wrong?"
"He had another nightmare," murmured Gabe, stroking his hair tenderly. He held back the tears and let out another shuddery sigh.
"I'm fine," he mumbled. She layed a light kiss on his ear.
"You just said you weren't." Gabe hugged him gently. "To quote you: 'Not fine. Bad.' "
"I'm okay now. Really."
"I'll go get you a glass of water," Edith said helpfully and scurried out before he could object.
"I don't know why everyone is so shook up," Micah cried, jerking out of Gabe's arms. "It's just--"
"Worse than last time." Her voice was quiet as she sat back on the bed. "Micah, you need to understand. I know these dreams scare you, and that they must be horrible, but I just want to help." She leaned forward a little and put a hand against his face.
"You're right," he said softly, glancing away. "They are horrible." Gabe stared at him, blue eyes full of concern, then turned to take the glass of water from Edith. "Thanks." She held it out towards Micah. "Drink it."
"Yes, dear," insisted Edith, "it's for the best." He glared at it, then took the water and sipped. Gabe watched while he did so, pushing his hair away from his forehead.
"Better?" Micah glanced at her over the rim of the cup.
"Sort of," he mumbled. Edith piped up.
"When he's feeling better, Gabe dear, bring him out into the kitchen. Lunch is ready." She gave them both a reassuring smile and scurried out. Gabe turned her attention back to him.
"Do you want to tell me what it was about?" Micah shot her a look that he felt was darker than necessary.
"Not really," he muttered, then took another sip. The water helped a little; he shifted uncomfortably. "Well... I suppose I could." She nodded, looking pleased, and put a hand on the back of his neck.
"Go on."
(Omit certain things, mind you. She doesn't need to know all of it.)
Micah drained the rest of the water and set the glass on the nightstand.
"I was in the cornfield," he began, embarrassed that his voice was already shaking. "There were... there were people there, and I was going to do something bad to them. Then you showed up." Gabe's brows twitched a little.
"And?" Micah's fingers started fiddling idly with the angel necklace. It was personal, but he felt he could share it with her -- at least, he hoped.
"You... you told me to stop, that it was wrong, and then I said something I wish I hadn't."
"Is that all?" Gabe sat back, looking relieved. "You had a dream that you yelled at me?"
(don't tell her don't tell her don't you dare)
" 'Cut out her tongue, then carve out her heart.' " He said it quickly and quietly, almost as if he hoped she wouldn't hear. She heard, all right; Gabe's blue eyes widened.
"That's what you said?" she asked in a small voice. Micah nodded meekly.
"Yeah. Pretty much." He felt horrible, and he hated the look on her face, but she had pressed. It was her own fault.
"Oh," Gabe murmured. She rubbed at her shoulder, eyes dropping. "Yeah, that sounds pretty bad."
"Told you." Micah swallowed, suddenly nervous of her avoidance of eye contact. "Gabe," he said softly. "Gabe, look at me." She frowned slightly, then glanced up.
"Are you mad at me?" asked Gabe in a tiny voice. He blinked in surprise.
"What?" Micah echoed dully. Her fingers began drawing idle designs on the black bedspread.
"Have-- have I done something wrong?" The boy blinked again and put an arm tentatively around her.
"Why would you think so?" he murmured, brows furrowing in concern. Gabe swallowed thickly, but leaned into him.
"Well, let's see," she mumbled, looking hurt, "you had a dream about cutting out my tongue and carving out my heart." Micah winced.
"I didn't get that far," he muttered. Gabe didn't seem to hear; she hugged him hard.
"Are you sure you're not mad?" He held her tightly -- for lack of a better thing to do -- and kissed her forehead.
"Positive." The girl was quiet for a moment. It made Micah a bit uncomfortable, so he pressed his lips to her brow again. "Are you mad at me?"
"No!" Gabe pulled away and flashed a grin. "Well, now that we have that figured out, how about some lunch?" Relief surged through him; he kissed her one more time and smiled.
"Sounds great," Micah stated, ready to put the awful dream behind him. "What are we having?" She hesitated.
"Corn dogs," she said meekly, and offered a little grin. He clapped a hand over his eyes with a groan.
"Oh, not funny."
Lunch went by quickly. They both downed the corndogs and gulped the milk, then retreated back into Gabe's room. It always felt comfortable in there, Micah noted. Her walls were a pale blue, and there wasn't much furniture: just a four poster bed and a computer desk. But it seemed that every memory Gabe had ever had was plastered on that desk. Pictures had been taped there, CDs stacked, books stashed. Papers were shoved in every crevice and candles dotted the shelves. As if to complete the look, a blue lava lamp rested on top of the desk. It was switched off.
"Gimme a sec," said Gabe after she wheeled Micah next to the bed. She whirled and began digging around in the stacks of books. "I've got a book here somewhere that can help."
"What, it cures insanity?" He smirked, but she shot him a dark look.
"Don't kid." The girl shoved aside a few more books and seized a small one. "Ah, here we go: 'Dreams And What They Mean'." Micah blinked.
"You're going to analyze my dream?"
"Yup," Gabe said cheerfully, plopping cross-legged on her bed. He set the brake on his chair absently.
"I should think the message would be pretty clear," he muttered, and that earned him another black glance.
"Quiet. Okay--" She began flipping intently through the little book. "--you were in a cornfield? That's not in here." Micah scooted a little closer and peered over her shoulder.
"Well, there were children there too," he offered helpfully. She shook her head.
"No, it's not in here." Gabe turned the pages with dimming patience. "Anything else?"
"Not really." Micah paused, then put his hand over hers gently. He flipped back to the beginning of the book, then pointed at the heading 'angel'. "There was an angel in my dream, though."
"Really?" Gabe perked a little. He nodded and laced their fingers.
"Yeah. I already said you were in it."
(Oh my God. I've never heard anything so sappy...)
But she seemed to like it. Gabe blushed a faint pink and smiled.
"Thanks," she murmured. Micah stroked the side of her hand with his thumb.
"S' the truth," he said with a shrug. Then, deciding he could use any help at all, he glanced down at the page and read. When wicked people dream of angels it is a demand to repent; to good people, it should be a consolation.
(Well, there you have it. Satan's a'waitin', Micah my boy.)
Gabe noticed the trail of his eyes and made a soft sound of reassurance.
"Look." A tanned finger was poked at the page. "That's a good sign, right?" Micah glanced at her in surprise.
"What, that I have to repent?" Now she looked startled.
"No!" For emphasis, she jabbed again at the book. "See? 'It should be a consolation'." He paused, still taken aback, then chuckled quietly.
"Poor thing," he said, ruffling her hair. "You're so confused." Gabe jerked away slightly.
"Are you saying that you don't think you're a good person?" she asked with a slow frown. Micah opened his mouth to answer
(bad person bad bad bad)
when she continued instead.
"Micah," Gabe said softly, bringing up a hand to brush aside strands of his hair, "you have given me absolutely no reason to believe that you are anything less than a perfectly decent person." She smiled a little and slid a fingertip to the space between his eyebrows, where it stroked lightly. "And of course, in my eyes, you're a saint. But I don't think it's a completely unbiased opinion."
"It's also a lie," he muttered, but couldn't help a smile. "A good one, but a lie all the same." The girl smirked and carressed the bridge of his nose one more time.
"Stop beating yourself up." Gabe pulled her hand away and glanced at the window. The shade had been pulled down, even though the sun was brightly shining. "You're a beautiful person, Micah. You really are." Pausing, she reached over and put her hand on the cord. "So stop brooding in darkness and let in a little light." With a flick of the wrist, the shade went flying up and the room was bathed in a golden glow. It blinded Micah at first. He put up a hand to shield his eyes. In the light, Gabe really did look like an angel for a moment. Then his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness and focused on the face in the window.
It was Jeremiah.
His tanned face was right there, pressed up against the glass as if it were the window of a candy store instead of a teenage girl's room. Green eyes flicked about between the two. He didn't even look surprised; the boy just pushed back shaggy brown bangs and kept staring in. Gabe shrieked in surprise when she saw him, then laughed shakily.
"Jer!" she squeaked, unlocking and opening the window. "What are you doing, you little freak?" The boy smiled pleasantly and leaned against the windowsill.
"Waiting for you," he said casually. Jeremiah glanced at Micah, his face complacent and blank.
(You little bastard--)
"Nice to see you," said Micah politely.
"Yeah, the same." Jeremiah turned his green-eyed gaze back to Gabe. "I finished mowing the lawn, so I took a shower and went to find you. Edith told me you were busy, and I knew something was up. I was just ready to knock on your window when you pulled up the blinds." She laughed again, but there was a distinct waver of nervousness.
"God. Can't you be like normal people and use the door?" The boy grinned, flashing a mouthful of dazzling teeth.
"Nope."
(--kill you if you ever do that again--)
"Normal's not interesting," said Micah with a smile he hoped would rival Jeremiah's. "You should know that, Gabe."
"Are you insinuating something?" she snickered, swatting his arm lightly. Jeremiah's grin flickered. He hoisted himself up on the sill and swung a leg inside.
"So... what are you guys doing this afternoon?"
(--god damned pretty boy, why don't you go--)
Gabe sat back on the bed.
"Micah's not feeling too well," she chirped with a shrug of her shoulders. "We'll probably watch a movie or something." Jeremiah swung the other leg into the room and sat nonchalantly on the sill.
"Looks like he's feeling well to me," he said mildly, but Micah could've sworn there was a trace of venom in his voice. Now Gabe's eyes sharpened a little.
"But you wouldn't know, would you, Jeremy?"
(--perfect teeth and perfect hair and perfect eyes, makes me want to--)
"Jeremiah," the boy corrected, looking a little on edge.
"Right." Gabe pursed her lips a little. "You're in kind of a bad mood today. What's with you?"
"Nothing," replied Jeremiah stiffly. Micah was taking a little pleasure in this minor argument, but not much -- Gabe looked just as irritated as Jeremiah, and that didn't settle well with him.
"That's a really grumpy 'nothing'," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.
(--Wally Cleaver impersonator, 'All American Prick'--)
"Gabe," called Edith from somewhere in the hall, "can you come here a minute? I need your help on this recipe." The girl glanced away from Jeremiah.
"Sure thing," she yelled back, pulling herself to her feet. "Be right back." Gabe flashed Micah a smile and trotted out into the hall. Jeremiah stared after her, the same complacently blank look on his face.
"Don't hurry," he said quietly, and glanced at Micah. A quick chill slithered through him.
(--why is he looking at me like that?)
But Micah smiled pleasantly.
"Hm. Now we're alone." Jeremiah stared back with almost disturbing coolness.
"Indeed. And that's good," he murmured, leaning forward, "because I need a moment to speak with the Legless Wonder."
(...excuse me?)
Micah blinked in surprise and simply stared, waiting for Jeremiah to go on. Because it was obvious that he was going to, and it was obvious it wasn't going to be small talk.