In the non-place between dreams and the mind, between the body and the soul, two beings appeared.
The Hydra opened its eyes and lifted its head, unfurling great black wings and stretching. Its second head, where a tailtip should have been, was licking a forked tongue over its lips. It burped, sending a piece of insect matter into the darkness.
The Unicorn tossed its head, glowing crimson eyes ablaze in the vast darkness around them, and reared. Pawing at the non-existent sky, the magnificent creature shrieked a challenge, and then settled.
"Now why did you have to go and do that?" Unicolyon's voice was a crystalline chime to the other entity, unlike the disjointed thoughts that she was able to reveal to her master. "I believe Griffolyon is going to be rather disgusted with you…"
"Do you think I could help it?" Amphilyon's voice brought to mind a roaring whorl of flame, white-hot tongues of heat in his words. "It can be very annoying when part of you has a mind of its own, and you know it." He glared at his tail-head.
It glared back, catlike pupils narrowing.
Unicolyon snorted and stamped a hoof, looking as peevish as her equine face would allow. "If we could stop with this nonsense and get down to the reason we are actually here?"
The other beast sighed, then stretched to nuzzle at her neck. "Your knight worries me. He may be able to reveal his story, but he is afraid to do so. Had I not called my own knight to him, he would have run."
"Do you know what I found when I settled back into his mind?" The equine closed her eyes. "His mind was tainted with bad memories…blood…screaming…betrayal…"
"As we both know." The serpentine creature's voice was fraught with regretful sorrow. "You still felt them, even parted, and you passed them on."
"I am sorry for that, but it could not be helped. Now we must turn ourselves to the matters at hand." A window opened at the point of the silvery horn, revealing the two youths in question.
"It is up to them, now." The green fire in the Hydra's eyes dimmed momentarily, then sparkled fiercely back to life. "All we can do is offer our help."
Ruby oculars glittered with emotion. "And our love, if that is enough."
----------
Oliver:
I'm shaking. Why am I shaking?
Why can't I just leave again? Why do I feel like it's going to hurt me, hurt me more than anything else?
Last night, I spilled my heart out to you, and you took it without flinching.
You found me again, you're caring for me, you offer your support…you offer me my soul again. You at least deserve the truth…
Your hand curls around mine, steadying the teacup in my trembling fingers. Your other arm snakes around my waist, and I comply with the silent request, leaning back against your chest with a sigh. It's where I've wanted to be for a long while…to me, the safest place in the world.
"You know, you have to eat. Just think of how hurt Piddlesworth would be otherwise." I hear the faint smile in your words, and manage a weak grin.
"It's just…it's so much to get used to again." I chance a bite of toast. "Almost too much…"
You embrace me carefully from behind, comforting. "Johnny and Robert deserve to know too, Oliver." Your voice is soft in my ears. "And you know I'll be here."
Since when did you learn to read minds, Enrique?
Your grip on me tightens momentarily. "Please, don't run away. I don't want to lose you again…"
Three more fateful words hang in the air, unspoken but understood.
----------
I don't eat much, my stomach protesting even the small influx of food. Enrique's sharp eyes take it all in and yet he doesn't push me, doesn't ask. He devours his own breakfast in record time, though…
I gather the ragged shreds of my courage to me, and take a deep breath, gently breaking contact with him and sitting up straight.
"I can do this…"
My voice is a half-whisper, but I know he can hear. He gives me a long look, blue eyes burning with coldfire and deadly serious. Then he breaks his gaze, moving to the door to call in our friends.
Robert and Johnny come in almost immediately, seating themselves near the bed. Both of them look at me – not expectant, not pushy…just with the need to know in both pairs of eyes.
I have to tell them.
My voice is shaky as I start, but I can't and won't cry in the telling – I've shed too many tears already.
The flow of memories catches up with me for the second time this morning, sending me into a private nightmare…
----------
Flashback:
I stand in my father's study, anguish so clearly etched on my features. Mother's hands are clasped together, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She can't do a thing to stop Father, who stands in front of me with rage glittering in his crimson eyes.
This. Is. Not. Good.
"You," he growls, "Will not see that boy again."
I pale, still standing firm. "No."
He explodes then, backhanding me across the face. The single vicious strike sends me to the floor. He's on me again in a second, lifting me up by my shirt. I struggle wildly, choking as he brings my face closer to his. His face, which looks nothing like mine.
"Either swear not to see the Giancarlo boy again…or face the consequences."
I open my mouth, gasping. "…No," I hiss. "Vous…ne pouvez pas…me faire." I try to add to the sentence, but my lungs scream for oxygen and I gasp, dark spots hovering at the corners of my vision.
He throws me down, and I scream in pain and curl into a protective ball as his foot connects with my side. "Worthless," he sneers. "I have raised a worthless son."
"Stop it!" my mother cries. "Stop!"
He pays no attention, and she doesn't protest further. As he continues to introduce my body to a new world of pain, his harsh comments ring in my ears.
At the end of it all, even through the haze of pain, I can hear his final words to me.
"Je non plus long vous sait comme mon fils. Worthless, fucking fag."
----------
"I guess you could say Mother saved me, after that. She couldn't change his mind, but she helped me get together what I could, and leave.
I didn't really have much of a choice. I kind of moved around Paris a lot, and I kept trying to contact you…but it never made it through. Whoever answered always said they'd pass the message on, but I guess it never did get to you…" I carefully don't meet their eyes.
Robert clears his throat. "I…don't know why you weren't able to call us, Oliver. But Enrique was…"
"Basically, under house arrest." His voice is quiet, and firm. "Piddlesworth did his best to help me out there, but Dad had the house too well guarded for me to get away. I couldn't use the phone, or even a computer."
But then how---?
Johnny's lilac eyes are crystalline-hard as he grips the armrest with white-knuckled hands. "When I find out WHO kept you from calling me, they are dead."
I shake my head, trying not to let them see the absolute shocked relief in my face, and continue.
"Well, that was all right for a while, but…I kinda gave up. I couldn't sleep much, or even eat properly…and then, well, about three days ago…"
----------
THUD-
Thugs, seven or so, stand over a battered body in the narrow alleyway. Over to the side, two more paw through the boy's belongings with glee.
The youth moans slightly and stirs, trying to get up. The leader raises an eyebrow – he's seen others rendered unconscious by less than this – and slams a boot into the teen's side.
He doesn't move anymore. The leader mulls over whether or not to finish the job, and then decides against it – fun the beating may have been, but he wasn't paid to kill. He motions the two grubbers over.
"We got what we were paid for. Let's go."
Seized by pain, Oliver can only watch them go, taking the last of his life with them.
----------
A splintering sound, and all four of us turn to look at Robert. He mutters something under his breath, looking at the armrest he's just cracked. "All I'm going to tell you is that those…bastards couldn't have been sent by your father."
I peer at him from under my bangs, my eyes bright with curious suspicion. "How?"
Robert takes a deep breath, then another. "Oliver…" He growls, then lays it out bluntly. "Your parents, Enrique's parents…all our parents are dead."
~-~-~-~-~-
Vous ne pouvez pas me faire – You cannot make me
Je non plus long vous sait comme mon fils – I no longer know you as my son. (Harsh!)
A/N:
(Drac: *muttering, looking up and down the chapter* I think I left too many plot holes…
Maroku: It'll pass. At least you managed something.
Johnny: *stomping in* I HAVE NO FREAKIN' LINES!
Drac: Shut UP, or I'll carry out my threat. Do you WANT to be paired with Kenny?
Johnny: Ah-er-um…*shuts up*)
Well, I certainly took my time on this one, but you can see it's rather long. The plot can only have gone so many … million … ways, ya know. An' that last line was quite the bombshell. *sighs* I had to deal with a couple of the dreaded Projects for the past coupla days, and this was the best I could do. School leaves me brain-dead…hope you *ahem* enjoyed that last part. Oliver's father, a gay-basher? *muttering* I just created a total asshole…and crap, I REALLY overdid the Oli-abuse this time…sumimasen!
Hikari no Yami: Bladebreakers coming in like, 2, 3 chappies? Ha, gives y'all something to look forward to!
Mistress of Anime: *points upward* There… T_T Don't huuurt meee…!
Christina: Big purple haired foo' NEEDS some kind of phobia…hey, Johnny's got the squirrels (see klyukaizer's fics, wink wink nudge nudge) so Robert's got the roaches!
Radical Aisha: Spiders are fun! But roaches are gross and disgusting and the damned things can fly! Alcohol gets the damned buggers, though, and we just had pest control. Hopefully that gets rid of BOTH for a while…or maybe Amphilyon can do me a little favor, hmmm? *snaps fingers* Aisha? Do you play Neopets?
Dark Sorceress Kurama: Errr…here. Not really kidnap, but you did come close.
Fyredra: *sweatdrop* Ah…Oliver has purple eyes, don't he? And I can't see him related to…Kevin…hey, now there's an idea! O.o
Shinikami Dragon: I'm not a writing machine, but I don't wanna die, anda hey, thanks for the encouragement! ^^;
On with the show! Now that Oli's story is outta the way, I can get with the plot and run wild! Yeah!
(Maroku, w/ the other Majestics: …Shit.)