Cecily
The break was a clean one, not requiring any pins or surgery, thank goodness. Casting Yusuf's lower leg was a minor affair, and the green fiberglass looked rather good as casts go. I listened carefully to what the doctor said, determined to follow his directives to the letter of course. Yusuf was brave, and not as awkward as I'm sure he thought he was. Part of knowing him so well is seeing how much alike we are; we both hate to look foolish.
The van took us back again, and I rolled Yusuf into the room, feeling somewhat tired. My body clock was still on Mombasa time, and I wanted nothing more than to nap, but first it was important to make sure my dear friend was fed and dosed.
"You need a nap," he told me when I yawned for the third time. "Cecily, please—take the bed. I'll be fine on the sofa catching up with my Email. Rest will do you good."
Since I wasn't sure when Ariadne would return, I agreed. There was another reason too, and once the door was closed, I lay down. Although I consider myself a mature sort of person, traveling this far was new to me, and the mingled homesickness and sorrow would have overwhelmed me if I hadn't had the soft scent of Yusuf on the pillow. That, and the knowledge that he was close by.
I slept much better than I had at the dormitory, and although I didn't remember dreaming, I probably did. When I awoke, the light was nearly gone, and I felt guilty. Out in the little living room I peeked, and Yusuf was reading, his glasses down along the end of his nose as he studied the abstract in his hands.
Abstracts—the man never stops doing research. I stepped out and he looked up at me, smiling. "Ah! Rested now?"
"You should not have let me sleep so long," I told him, feeling embarrassed at how his gaze skimmed over me. I have always liked Yusuf's eyes, which are dark, like mine, but so wise and kind.
"And deny you what you so clearly needed?" he shook his head. "I know what the flight was like, Cecily. In the bathroom, on the counter is a little bottle with a green label—a blend of B vitamins and Zinc I made for myself. You should take one, with water. It will help."
He was so authoritative and I knew he was right. Yusuf knows medications and vitamins like know one else, so I turned around and did exactly what he advised. When I returned, he waved me over, making room for me on the sofa. I sat, feeling somewhat shy now, and we didn't speak for a moment.
"I . . . suppose I should call Ariadne," I murmured, with reluctance, not wanting to leave. I knew I should, but oh how I longed to stay.
Ridiculous, of course. He was a man, I was a woman, and we were not married, or engaged or related in any way; although Paris is far more sophisticated than Mombasa, my mindset has always been very traditional.
"Yes," Yusuf agreed, sounding a bit forlorn. That pleased me, and I looked over to see him staring.
"Yusuf, why are you here?" I asked him.
I knew, vaguely, that it was probably Dream-associated. Yusuf is one of the very best sedative chemists in the world, and although many companies have expressed interest in hiring him, he prefers to work alone. I know he has a bit of a maverick streak to his nature; the very fact that he hosts a dreaming den in his basement speaks to that, and although I don't always approve of the process, I know he feels very responsible for those he treats.
"My associates needed my expertise," he mumbled in a tone of voice that told me I shouldn't press for details.
"And now? Can you still provide it, given the shape your ankle is in?"
"Yes," came his reply, and this time I saw the caution in his eyes. "Cecily, it's more than a matter of finance. I owe these people my support throughout this mission."
I nodded, not wanting to hear more. This was not a matter for me to worry about—at least, not for now. Yusuf and I had never actually discussed anything about his trips away from Mombasa, and I wasn't going to pry.
"Very well. Tomorrow . . . you will be busy?" I regretted it the minute I asked when I realized how . . . needy I sounded. Like the some little girl whining for attention.
"We both shall," Yusuf surprised me, and smiled. "I need to get back to work, my dear, and I'm fairly sure you won't let me unless you're at my side. Are you willing to do that?"
How easy, how simple to take his hand and nod.
Yusuf
Introducing Cecily to the rest of the team was a study in caution for me. Ariadne was supportive, having already met her, but Arthur was far more cautious under his polite greeting. I suspected our point man was forever assessing people in respect to whatever mission was underway. I didn't have the right to begrudge that, but part of me did of course; Cecily is an innocent, and deserves to stay so.
My greater worry was Eames, and the minute he smiled at Cecily, a curious wave of resentment rolled in my stomach.
"I've seen you before, Miss Barango," Eames told her, holding out that big hand of his. "It is Miss, isn't it? On Green Banana Street, right?"
"Yes," Cecily nodded, "You've been to Doctor Mehra's pharmacy as well, I think."
At the mention of my title, I blushed; Arthur's brows went up and Eames, damn him, chuckled. It's hard enough to get respected, and I earned the degree the hard way, but Cecily's . . . reverent tone had me caught between pleasure and embarrassment.
"Yes indeed," Eames drawled. "I have been to the good . . . doctor's . . . establishment."
"And right now, we need his expertise at work over there at the dosage lab," Arthur pointed out. Just like that, everyone went to work; Cecily rolled my chair towards my station and I spoke to her in a low voice.
"Ignore Eames; he's quite pompous at times," I murmured, reaching for one of my reports to check on a few numbers.
"Handsome is as handsome does," Cecily replied, making me smirk. How well she puts things!
In the end though, she proved invaluable, running errands, helping out Ariadne with one of the models and taking notes for Eames while he broke into various databases to retrieve information. I was proud of Cecily for helping out, and fitting in so easily. Within a few hours the team was ready, and I knew I'd be supervising them as they went under.
It would be in two days, in a waiting room at the podiatrist's of all things—my wheelchair would be perfect cover. The team would go in on Ariadne's dream and with careful work, manage to pull the information within ten minutes or so and all would be done, with luck. Until then, we waited—something we were all familiar with, alas.
One by one the others left; Eames, then Ariadne and Arthur. I promised to lock up once I was done packaging the somnacin, and Arthur agreed. It was nearing twilight, and I was feeling a bit hungry, so I was considering asking Cecily to a nice Moroccan restaurant I knew of when she spoke up, breaking into my thoughts.
"Yusuf, may we . . . Dream?"
A thousand startled thoughts jumped in my head at that, and I know I must have looked stunned. Cecily was trying not to laugh, but I saw in her lovely eyes that she was serious, despite her smothered chuckles.
"Here? Now?" I managed.
"Well, the equipment is available, as is some privacy," she replied softly. "I've never done it, and it would be . . . helpful to experience it at least once, to . . . understand what you do."
I considered it to cover my surprise, and the idea had appeal. Certainly I'd dreamt enough myself to have some degree of control from within, and if we used the sample dose size, we would be under for no longer than a few minutes at the most. . .
"Are you sure?" I checked, looking over at her face, scanning her expression for fear or doubt. There was some trepidation in her eyes, but nothing overt, and I was . . . touched . . . that Cecily trusted me so.
"Yes," she replied softly. "It would help so much to know what it's like, Yusuf. I know I will be safe . . . with you."
Such faith! I looked into her beautiful eyes and had I not already been in love with her, I surely would have fallen right then. As it was, I merely nodded, and blushed.
Ten minutes later we went under, me in the wheelchair and Cecily stretched out on one of the chaise lounges. I caught a glimpse of her before I dropped off, and she looked like Sleeping Beauty . . .
I built a section of Diani beach, close enough to one from Mombasa, but not exactly so. The date palms were much taller, the water cleaner and not filled with ships from the port. We were on a terrace, at the rail, and I was rather pleased with the design. I'm not anywhere near Ariadne's levels, but since I had no intention of eluding anyone, it was acceptable.
"It's home!" came Cecily's gasp, and I turned to smile at her. My smile grew as I observed the beautiful gauzy sari my mind had dressed her in. Gold of course, with threads of chocolate and coffee woven through it.
