Collecting Legends

by Shadowy Star

Legend six

Gerald looked into the mirror and frowned. The dark blue rings under his eyes were completely unacceptable!

Damned dreams! he thought furiously, picking up his brush and starting to comb his hair. This was the fifth night in a row he had that very same nightmare over and over again. It followed always the same script and he was unable to change it no matter how hard he tried. If only he still were able to Work! It would have been so easy to banish that product of his unconscious. He imagined the Workings required, almost heard the fae whisper – and stopped himself rather abruptly. Getting rid of those unnerving dreams wasn't worth dying. On the other hand… he might not want to admit it, but he was afraid of sleeping now. Afraid of that dream where Damien was always dying and he always could do nothing to prevent it…

Oh, damn! he thought again. Why was he dreaming that? Why was that stubborn ex-priest's death affecting him so much? He could logically explain his first reaction after reading the news, even his tears –it was only appropriate to mourn the loss of a companion, a friend even, after all– but… He had been alone for a long tome. He should be able to go back to that. He should be perfectly able to go on with his new life. He most surely shouldn't be having nightmares of that said friend committing suicide. He shouldn't be trying to change them. And most certainly he shouldn't feel guilty! Was that his fault the damned knight decided to throw away his life like that? Yes ,it was, a part of his brain insisted. And he'd been more than a friend. Gerald firmly shoved that thought away. He didn't need anyone. He was perfectly content with his life as it was and with his work as it proceeded. There was so much to explore now, so much research that had to be done… Then why did he feel as if something important, something essential, was missing? Why did he want, no, did he long for, someone to share his thoughts with? And not just for someone, but for one special person. Damien… he thought and a feeling he actually didn't want to explore further made his throat constrict painfully. Was it possible that he missed him?

Wait, did he really just think that? Gerald almost growled in exasperation. What was wrong with him? Yes, you did, that same part of his brain piped up again, more insistent this time. And he was talking to himself, now what was the word for that again? Insanity? Just great! he thought and smiled dryly, imagining himself telling his story to a psychiatrist. No, he chose a live outside an insane asylum, thank you very much. He would go and manage this alone.

He hadn't expected himself to grow that used to his friend's presence. He hadn't expected it at all. How did it happen? When did it happen? He'd always been solitary even when he'd been married. He'd loved his wife, true, –or at least he'd thought he did– but Almea had never been able to break through his shields of solitude. Sometimes he hadn't even noticed if she was there. When he'd gotten absorbed in one of his projects he'd kept even forgetting he was married at all. Almea had been a devoted wife and mother but she'd never shared his interests. She'd appreciated the results of those interests such as truehorses for example, but she had never been able to converse about or even understand how he'd achieved it. And later on when he'd become the Hunter… Amoril? Most certainly not the albino! Any other of his servants? No. There simply hadn't been anyone.

Until Damien came. Damien with his quick wit and his education, medical, clerical and otherwise, Damien with his boundless curiosity and his intense sense of honor, with his fiery temper and the almost inhumanly great understanding, with his selflessness and this warm and caring heart... All this and all the additional characteristics had made him a perfect partner for Gerald. Wistfully he remembered their discussion on nearly every topic possible during their journeys across the ocean. Those conversations –that sometimes had ended in a spectacular argument he'd always wanted but not always managed to win– had covered everything from theology to space travel, from battle tactics to Healing methods, from genetics to the concept of faith, from Erna's fae to Terran technology. It had been so refreshing and inspiring. So, yes, he answered himself, yes, he missed Damien. Only in the intellectual way, of course. If you say so, again that part of his brain – or his soul maybe?

He looked into the mirror. His hands had long ago ceased their movement. Unseeingly he stared down at his fists he didn't remember clenching.

Nothing of this had been supposed to happen! Andrys hadn't been supposed to be at Gerald's keep, he himself hadn't been supposed to fake his death and Damien wasn't supposed to die! Suddenly furious again –though he'd never be able to tell whether at the ex-priest or at himself–, he flung the brush at the mirror, smashing the polished surface to pieces. When they rained down, each carrying his reflection, he had to shove the obvious metaphor of a broken heart –which that annoying part of his brain enthusiastically supplied him with– out of his mind. Firmly. That was completely out of the question! Damn it again, he had work to do and a life to live!

And that he would do, he decided. He wouldn't let any nightmares get in his way. He braided his hair carefully, checked his appearance for possible imperfection one last time and left the house.

On his way to the small café that provided the best coffee in the city, he passed by the Jaggonath Cathedral. In his current state of mind he probably should have taken another route as he realized belatedly. And now… There were so many things to remind him of his stubborn, warm-hearted friend, the Cathedral being one of them.

He couldn't help but ask himself if things could have taken a different course. If only there had been another way to get out of his fortress, if only Andrys had been more understanding, if only the Patriarch hadn't started his Crusade… Right, blame it on anyone else but yourself.

Gerald shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was so unlike him to doubt his actions. He had tried to analyze his situation. Abstractly, he knew he was emotionally instable at the moment but he refused to acknowledge it. That was entirely Damien's fault. How did the priest dare die on him?!

He was fuming as he bought his coffee, and he was fuming as he walked down the street to the city library, and he was still fuming when he reached his destination.

He got distracted for a while searching for the books he required and carrying them to his table. When he caught himself staring at the same page for minutes without being able to tell what the text was about, he tried to concentrate harder which seemed to work out. For twenty seconds or so.

And when his thoughts kept straying to how much he'd appreciated Damien's presence or how much their friendship had meant to him or how warm-hearted and forgiving Damien had been or how beautiful those brown eyes– He practically slammed the book shut, creating a puff of dust, causing a sound that rang earsplittingly loud in the library's quiet, and getting a disapproving 'Hush!' from the old librarian. That was it! Was there a way to stop himself thinking that? Damien's dead, he forced himself to think. The pain that shot through his heart at that nearly made him think he was suffering another heart failure. Only now Damien wouldn't be there to Heal him…

He left the library without as much as giving his research a single thought. He had to get rid of those dreams before they drove him insane in earnest.

TBC…