Just Another Disease
By Kay
Disclaimer: I don't own Everworld, Jalil, Christopher, anyone. Although I DO own my own characters if I add them in this fic... And no one wants to steal my characters. So I think they're safe.
Author's Notes: Well, it's a continuation off of "Conversations" in a way, only longer, much more detailed, with an actual plot, and chapters that will be added on. More Christopher/Jalil slash, of course. Although I KNOW most people like C/D better, I can't write those two worth anything, soooo... sorry! Maybe I will one day soon.
For the David fans (Duuuck-K, I heart your fanfics!) I DO have some nice David parts coming in. :D Slashy, too, perhaps?
Anyway... it's R for a reason-- there's no intimate stuff between anyone... flushes Just. Later, there will be disturbing stuff, violence, and ect. (Gods, I love angst.) Sorry if this is badly written... blushes and runs off
Daisuke: ... right. Let's just get on with it.
Jalil: She's torturing me again, isn't she?
Daisuke: Oh, and bear with her-- this is the prologue of sorts, and therefore, very very boring. She hates it. She thinks it sounds corny. Go figure-- she's right!
Sometimes in the middle of the night, when no one could hear him scream, Jalil would dream in Everworld.
Before they had all faded in the real world, the logical plane of reasoning where they'd been transported to when their eyes rested, he'd only dreamed in Everworld once. Once and only once. A dream of Senna and washing his hands, a screwed up play of scenes and haunting words when he'd caught himself sleeping in both worlds.
Jalil had woken up from it. Went on.
Now there was nothing to stop the nightmares or dreams from coming, no reality to "cross over" into, not a place to call sanctuary. He'd expected his sleep to be more or less the same as it was in the real world before the entire mess started-- normal REM, a little time you couldn't remember because your brain was shut down on the conscious level. Sometimes you had a dream, sometimes you didn't. And sometimes you didn't even remember it when you did.
What he hadn't expected was this-- every night he let himself fall into a deeper sleep than just a slight nap. When the nightmares came for him.
Jalil wasn't even certain he could call them nightmares. They were more like a horrible twisted contortion of dreamscape, disturbing and haunting, but not exactly frightening. He'd expected bad ones, about Hel and blood and torture, things they'd been through here and things he'd never want to repeat. However, to the dark eyed, intelligent teenager, this was something new and unexpected.
There's a psychological order to the dreamworld that follows a very strict outline of balance, where there's no reason or logic applied to the realms of sleep. Yes, there are images, familiar realizations. However... order and reality never turn up, there is no sharp, clear thoughts within your dreams. Everything's as though swimming under dark waters; murky, deep, so enveloping in its embrace that you can't bother with mere things such as thoughts.
However, Jalil did not have ordinary dreams anymore.
They had order. Too much order to be true, too many shaky coincidences.
He dreamed every night. Behind closed eyelids that fluttered and deep, soft breaths.
And never, never could he awaken without the screams.
The sound of nothing filled his ears like a howling rush.
In mankind's entire lifetime, the sound of silence has never existed. Noise is a common distraction, a prevailing force in the way we survive, and to truly hear "silence" for once would most likely destroy a normal man's mind. After all, even when we are alone, the breath, the shaky heart beats, they echo within us.
Never silent, Jalil used to think. Now there was silence.
Around him, falling in sheets of glossy flakes and wisps, a fluttering of snow rained down softly from the sky. It covered the ground in pure, crystal blankets of white and glimmering ivory, endlessly stretching across to a flat horizon in the distance. There was nothing here. Nothing but snow falling, gently brushing over his features as he stared up incoherently at the inconceivable, incredible blankness of the sky. An empty canvas of world. Snowing.
Jalil blinked.
It was strange in that-- he was here, he could feel the snow beneath him on the ground, shiver at the touch of its icy breath, the digging of tiny flakes in his skin. Strange that his breath came out in shuddering balls of puffed cloud, but he couldn't hear it. There was no sound here.
Silence looming over, everywhere. No sound.
He got up, wincing as he did, the ice sheet under him scraping his palms. No sound of it, though. Not his clothes when they rustled, not the sound of his breath, no heartbeat. Even the falling snow didn't contribute a whisper.
And he was aware. So very aware.
There was nothing.
Except now there was something. Jalil stood up, dark eyes darting around the wasteland of snow and landscape. Nothing but him, the cold, the wind, and the silence. And something else. He could feel it as sure as his bones were in his skin, like he was just as a part of the ground tread upon by the "something." It was... disturbing.
It was coming-- and now he could see it.
The dark figure on the horizon, shimmering from nothingness into existence, the absurd way a dream works-- yet even as he thought that, Jalil recoiled at the knowledge he could think in this, knew it was a dream, knew it was illogical and strange. Realized he was aware.
Wrong. So very wrong.
And the name that passed over his lips, not echoing at all in the stillness, not even being heard-- but said-- that name was wrong, too. The word he craved, the person he needed, and it was horrible, but he said it, and it was wrong.
"Christopher."
And it was wrong. Christopher was in his dreams-- again-- and this time, he couldn't be sure. Was this a good dream? Or was it going to hurt this time, was it going to be painful? Because even if he didn't remember upon waking, in the dreams he recalled every wretched detail of the last.
He dreamt of good things with Christopher. Forbidden, horrible, couldn't take it, wasn't right, but jesus, he had to dream about them. Couldn't stop his own traitorous mind from playing the scenes out, the bittersweet yearning reaching out.
There were the bad ones, though. Harsh words, hatred-- the easiest to assume, because Christopher showed the most potential there.
This didn't feel like either of those kind of dreams, though. This felt as though reality, although couldn't possibly be.
Jalil shuddered in the stillness of the cold air. Wrapped his arms around himself, tightly, clutching the frozen skin and watching silently as the figure drew closer, gliding across the surface of the ground effortlessly. It was definitely Christopher, physically visible now. Washed blonde hair falling slightly into his face as he bowed his head, hands shoved in the dark pockets of his black trenchcoat.
Jalil's breath caught nervously. He didn't like this.
So wrong. So wrong.
Sometimes the dreams were different when he finally closed his eyes another night. There were times they confused him when he bothered to consider their impractical realness, and the strange new order or twist that would accompany the new ones.
There were always new things, different ways, but they always, always ended the same.
He didn't believe in basing your life on a dream. Dreams were merely the workings of a mind's unconscious. There was no truth to them.
Sometimes, though, he couldn't help but think of the taste. The feel of the snow in his back. Touching the soft fabric of his shirt, all something understood, all clear and sharp in his mind, unreliable as it seemed to be.
These were no ordinary dreams, even he knew that. Didn't acknowledge it, but he knew. Jalil remained cruelly, even in this world, a person of logic and intellect. Knowledge held the power, the final key to everything, restoration of the mind.
He didn't believe in the dreams. They only ruled his sleep.
"Christopher." Was it supposed to be this cold, he wondered, in a dream? Was his voice supposed to not be heard, even though he felt like he was screaming the words? It was all Jalil could do to resist the urge to bolt, to demand an answer he knew wouldn't come.
And the figure who looked like Christopher but yet wasn't him... who knew if he even had an answer to give.
The snow fell in spades around him, and he wished he could at least hear the sound of "Christopher" breathing. If it really was Christopher. The blonde figure was before him then, gazing into his eyes, and it seemed all fragmented and ordered at the same time. Like a hopelessly messed up math equation, all the pieces there in their correct formation, but every way it was supposed to go together was shattered.
"Christopher?"
The teenager reached for Jalil's arm, and it was so wrong. So wrong.
"I... Christopher..." And by the time the words were on Jalil's lips, the blonde teenager was gripping his arm tightly, knuckles turning milky-pale white. Holding on so tightly that his fingers cut into the mocha skin, so badly that it hurt and brought sharp tear pricks to Jalil's eyes without his permission.
"Christo-"
And then Christopher, the dream Christopher of impossibilities, swept down and forced his mouth over Jalil's own-- taking, demanding, harsh. And there was nothing in him except resistance-- the dark eyed teen jerked back away from the blonde's mocking kiss, felt the sharp hiss of pain leave his lips rather than hear it. His arm hurt.
He stepped back, tugging his arm out of Christopher's grip quickly, and raised a hand to his bruised mouth. Frowned. Shook his head a few times. It hurt for Jalil to think, to breathe, all was silent... so wrong...
"Who are you? What's going on?" he whispered. "You aren't Chri--"
And that was all he said, as Christopher's hand reached out with lightening accuracy--
And ripped through his chest.
And the blood fell around in silent streams of crimson. And the world of white snow spun softly around Jalil's gaze, darkening into nothing. And the face of Christopher, the one he trusted and loved and hated, stared down at him in calm fascination, the most hideous of betrayals. Inevitable.
And yet, for him, his heart was...
His... and it was...
The snow... was cold...
And even though he couldn't hear it--
Jalil started to scream.
There was an easy explanation of what the dream could obviously mean-- in fact, so many obvious ones that it would not have taken a child to discover them. The fear of betrayal, of pain and rejection. The knowledge of how it would turn out. The unpredictability.
Jalil was not a child. Neither was he in any means stupid or moronic. If he allowed his head to admit the dreams were starting to become a problem in reality, he could have easily discovered the true root of them all. However, as known, Jalil is a creature of logic and reason-- and he ignored the dreams with a determination that would have made David, the most resolute of them all, incredibly proud.
And had he known what the future would bring, maybe Jalil would have tried harder to accept their meanings. That there was no hope.
But humans like to hope, and as logical and reasonable as Jalil was, he was indefinitely human. Ignoring the dreams would prove to be his most fatal mistake ever. Just the same, he did so to somehow, deep inside, preserve a hope for some normality and dignity-- as well as a barrier against the information that he wasn't ready to gain.
When he woke in the morning, Jalil only dried what tears managed to escape, and forgot.
END of Prologue
Eeep. Confusing! It sucked, but hey... it'll make sense later, I promise. And Part One definitely makes sense. (It's almost done, I just still have to fix it up again... I'm being lazy. I'm sorry!) I'd like to thank the people who've reviewed my fics in the past... you keep me going.
Next Part: Jalil, Christopher, David, and April discover the fate of one of the Sennites, and start off on their journey. Involves much amusement and David-ity, so stay tuned! ;) I'm actually putting a LOT more David in than planned, cause... ummm... Duck-K has me addicted to the boy. (She writes the GREATEST fics, I swear... and she reviews mine... awed) Eeee, so stay tuned! ENJOOOOY!