Disclaimer: I do NOT own Static Shock.

Is It Dream or Reality

"Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate."

(Canto 3, line 9) Dante's Inferno

The final words of the inscription on the Gate of Hell.
"'Abandon every hope, you who enter.'"

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Richie moved throughout the house as if he lived there himself, he walked with confidence and poise, his eyes were cold and calculating as he strode in long graceful steps to the room he knew her mother would be. He thrust the door open without any knock or question. He stared a her mother who was looking at him with a bemused smile which encased her face. She sat at a small round table with a tarot deck laid out and one card in her hand. The room was filled with candles, spices, dried herbs, old books that looked to be at least a hundred years old. But he cared for none of that, he wanted answers. He pulled out the chair that was right across from the women on the other side and sat down. They looked at each other for a while sizing each other up now that they were in private.

"So what brings you to my room of sorts?" She asked as she leaned back into the chair seemingly comfortable with him now.

"You know very well what, I want answers." He refrained from saying "now" knowing it would get him no where with this women.

She frowned at this statement and sat up straight now very serious.

"Yes about that I have to warn you after you hear this you cannot do anything stupid. Though I can feel that she cares strongly for you she will come to hate you and worry for you if you do, do anything stupid."

Richies shoulders tensed at this notion. He knew he wanted to know who had done what they did to Amelia but he could make no such promises. He would if he knew that he could control himself but didn't think he'd be able to if he found out who did it.

"I can't promise you anything."

He dragged out the words slowly, carefully knowing this was knot the answer her mother wanted. He looked at her to see her eyes close and her heave a sigh as she sat back in the chair a bit more to get comfortable.

"Do, you still want to know? It isn't for me to decide what you do with the information I give you. I can only tell what will happen if you make rash decisions that put you, her, and other peoples lives at stake."

He held still while she said this wanting to know but not wanting her to hate him for what he did to try and protect her.

"Is this person out of her life completely? If they are I will not ask nor delve into her past unless she so wishes it. But if they are all I ask is for a name, so as to know who to crush if they come near her."

He waited with anxiousness permitting his aura wanting to know if he would have to face a great evil to protect his loved one again. He smiled wryly as he momentarily got lost in his memories, but was soon brought back as he saw her mother hold up the card he had seen earlier. It was the tarot card The World. He didn't have a clue as to what it meant and waited for her to continue.

"Seron Ambrick."

His shoulders froze in place as he heard this name. He promised himself he would never forget it, but now the time for the explanation of the card. Almost as if she could read his mind (*hint hint*) She started to explain the meaning.

"This card, The World is a major Arcana which means it will have a impact more so on your life, then the others, minor Arcana will. It means that there are going to be people you cannot trust come into the picture, be sure to pay attention to Amelia don't ignore her by trying to protect her in your cause, and put faith in only your number one."

As she finished she laid the card down and he looked at it skeptically. He never understood the way cards could read your future, how a small piece of paper could tell you or warn you of things to come. But he wouldn't take any chances and he knew that this women was strong when it came to what she did. He wanted so badly to know what happened but knew at the same time he wouldn't be able to control himself if he saw him. And the last thing he wanted to do was be the cause of tears that she shed. He looked up to her mother and nodded his thanks and got up to leave. Before he could take a step further out the door her voice stopped him.

"I wouldn't tell her of the past, pain is all that awaits her if you were to tell her. Let her find out for herself."

He nodded not looking back knowing what she meant and headed for Amelia's room. He opened the door and came to a standstill just taking in his surroundings as not being able to earlier. Her room was shrouded in darkness but had a luminescent glow due to glow in the dark stars tapered everywhere on every wall and on her ceiling as well. His eyes soon fell on her prone form as she slept. She was so small and fragile looking but he knew she was far more powerful. Her long eyelashes rested gently on her cheeks, her lips were parted slightly and her chest heaved slowly in rhythm to her pulsing heart beat. He could hear her heart beat as it beat rhythmically against her rib cage, and lulled him into a sense of comfort and security.

He growled lowly as he crawled in to the bed right next to her. He had only then noticed she wasn't wearing much due to him ripping her shirt off. She was laying on her stomach so he had a clear view of her back, at which he examined. The most prominent were five strips that went straight down her back, they looked like claw marks that had some sort of corrosive liquid at the end for the scar tissue that was left looked as if it had a hard time healing. Richie growled low in his throat so as not to wake her as he thought of who had done this. He craved so bad to know who it was but knew they would be dead before dawn arose from it's slumber.

He stroked the back of her arm lightly raising goose flesh and causing shivers to quake through her body. He smirked at this, she was still responsive as ever. He couldn't help it and leaned down to nuzzle his face into her hair inhaling her scent. A whimper tore from her throat as he did this. He smiled into her neck and gently started a low grumble in his chest, almost like a purr and she settled down next to him. He dreamed that night. A horrible dream of death and blood, not that he wasn't use to it but more so of the fact of who it covered.

His senses were on high alert the physical surroundings a blur of mist as he honed in on his instincts. Never trust what you see with your eyes for they will betray you in the end. His master taught him that and he never forgot it either. Getting him out of tough situations he'd learned to depend on his senses alone. He heard nothing which disturbed him not even the grass (if there was any)beneath his feet, or the wind, or the whispers of the trees souls talking amongst each other as they so often do at night. No, everything was dead, and the shadow of mist that hung around him hung like a dark cloud looming above him; right before his death.

He smirked at this notion but then discarded it as soon as it came, he needed to listen, he needed to know what this all meant. Once he was certain his senses would be of no use to him he walked ahead into another backdrop, another materializing illusion, like an ever changing movie theater, one slide to the next. Gossamer is what he'd call it. There but not, delicate and ever changing, light and filmy. That's what dreams were made of, Gossamer.

The next scene disturbed him though, he was in an alley way, dark and dank, everything was black even the cobblestone on the ground except one thing. A white gauzy handkerchief lay haphazardly across a puddle. And dripping down on it were small tiny droplets of blood.

Up on the broken stones from the wall not five feet from the puddle and handkerchief was a small doll house, he walked up to and peaked inside a window only to find himself inside that very doll house. When he looked outside the window again though he was in a secluded area in the country. He turned back around and froze. He was in a hallway with no lights on except for the door in front of him which was opened just a crack. He froze because he could smell it, the permeating smell of blood. He should know, for he was the very essence of blood itself; ritually bathing in it when he was younger. He closed his eyes at the memory and moved forward.

He pushed lightly on the door and it creaked open. His eyes widened at the site of Amelia sitting in the corner of a blood filled tub crying, blood spatter was everywhere on the walls and even in the sink, as if someone tried to wash it away. He heard her soft sobs and took a step forward. She heard for her head snapped up and he fell back. Her eyes were black and colorless, not even white. Her tears ran down the only clear thing among the blood which covered the floor and walls. Her head tilted to the side and her eyes widened in recognition before howling like a banshee and pushing him out of the bathroom, the house and the alleyway right into his body with such force he gasped for air.

He coughed a bit and turned to Amelia to find her tossing and turning with tears running down her cheeks. He shook her awake and her eyes bolted open wide showing him a brief glimpse of black bottomless eyes before returning to their normal color.

"What did you dream of?" He looked at her with stern eyes of electric blue now than light.

"What?" she slurred with her mind still boggled from sleep.

"What..did..you..dream..of?" He grabbed her face as he asked this time and she seemed to come to.

Her face showed concentration, as if she were trying to grasp the meaning of his words until they sunk in and her eyes showed a haunted sadness. She turned around and got off the bed with him following her.

"You didn't answer me."

"I don't remember."

"Bullshit, now tell me." he said as he grabbed her arm and turned her around as they stopped in the front of the kitchen.

With her head bent he couldn't see well but one could read the anguish on her face plainly as she closed her eyes trying to block out his voice and the touch of his skin on hers. She breathed deeply to calm her nerves her hands slightly shaking from the dream she had along with the fact that he had seen something he shouldn't have whatsoever. She tried to swallow thickly to clear her throat but found it parched as if cotton had been stuffed down her throat. She turned to get a glass out of the cupboard and jerked her arm out of his grasp. She filled a glass and drank greedily until it was almost all gone and sat the glass down. With her back still to him she tried to gather her thoughts while her hands gripped the edge of the sink in a bruising white knuckled grip. Her first words shaky she soon gained in confidence learning not to show any ounce of nervousness or fear no matter who it was.

"I remember okay? I remember so I don't need to repeat what we both saw."

Her jaw clenched as she closed her eyes once more blocking the pain of the dream out.

"When I dream every dream is based off of real life events that took place. Id rather not get into the gory details of that one but it...it...what you saw wasn't me okay? I was crying yes but the blood wasn't mine it..it belonged to someone special to me that passed. Look do we need to talk about this now?"

She said this as she turned looking up at him with pleading eyes hoping he'd understand. Thankfully he got the hint and just held her as she closed her eyes, she didn't cry because her tears were all run out but her eyes did hurt from wanting to. It was 2 a.m. by then and both were exhausted. She lead him to her room once more to lay down and fall into an oblivious blissful sleep.

Sorry its been so long, really really long but here it is finally after all this time. :) Please enjoy i hope this makes up for lost time.