Rebecca's POV

I was dreaming. Maybe. To be honest, I really didn't know what was real and what was a dream anymore. Everything, in both realities, felt so real to me. The only difference is when I woke up from a dream none of it was real, but the things in reality were never going to go away.

I was having a dream about Kalin; which should not have caused me anymore surprise anymore since he was all I had dreamt about since I left him. He wanted me to love him, but I didn't think I could do that. I didn't love anyone, not even in my family. I had loved once, and it had ended so horribly I tried to avoid the emotion at all possible costs. I did care about Kalin, he was sweet and seemed like he honestly did love me, but I could not give him what he wanted. He wanted all of me, everything that I could possibly give, and I was too use to my freedom to even thinking about giving it up. And that is what love was, wasn't it? Sacrifice? Your freedom, you spare time, your thoughts, even your personal space. I was already forced to give over my body and my thoughts without my consent, and I was determined to keep a hold of everything else that was mine that I could.

But anyways, back to this dream.

I wasn't really sure how deep asleep I was. It was that strange kind of dream, you know, where you feel like you are caught in-between reality and dream land. I had no control over anything that happened, and yet I could see and feel everything. His hand softly stroking my cheek, his other hand warm on my waist. I tried to shake of this feeling, to either struggle my way to reality or go deeper in my dream, but I couldn't seem to do either.

"Kalin," I murmured, sluggish and sleepily. Surely this was a dream, brought on by the fact that I had been depressed and had watched old romance movies that were playing on tv. Funny how the universe seemed to laugh at you at times.

He smiled softly, cupping my cheek and leaning forward to kiss my forehead, so softly, tenderly. I took in a deep breath, smelling him, feeling my body become jelly, too tired to become aroused, but willingly melting into him, surrendering.

I wanted to kiss him, it was such a perfect moment. I tilted my head back, hinting what I wanted, and he paused, as if he weren't sure he should take my up on my offer. I frowned, my dream Kalin had never hesitated before. Was my subconscious feeling guilty?

Then I became aware of something cold on my thigh. Something REALLY cold!

Oh shit! This was real!

I leapt from the bed with a scream, my mind sharpening in an instant, spinning to find Kalin still laying on the bed, blinking at me in surprise. Then he smiled, almost guiltily.

"Sorry for fogging your mind, but I just wanted to enjoy you like that a little while longer." I was panting, more from surprise than anything else, my mind whirling and trying to put everything together while taking in his words and making them make sense.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I wailed, realizing he was in MY bed, in MY house.

"Your door was unlocked. I knocked, but you didn't answer."

"How the hell do you know where I live! And of course I didn't answer! It's. . . well its . . . what time is it?" I didn't have a clock in the bed room. I always had a habit of waking up in a half daze, looking at it, and seeing a completely different time than was on the clock and freaking out, thinking I was late or that it was time to get up. It was annoying, especially since now I had no where to go.

"Its eight thirty."

"Are you kidding me!" I yelled.

"Um, are you yelling cause it is a good or a bad thing?"

"I never get up before nine! Ugh, I can't stand getting up early." I then spied a bag on the floor just at the side of the bed. "What is that?" I said lamley, pointing at the bag.

"Are you mad at me for being here?" he questioned instead, ignoring my question.

"Kalin, you broke into my house. And hold on a second, what the hell do you mean you fogged my mind?"

"Ah, yeah, lets just say it is something I can do."

"Because you are Thorian? Or because I am your bride?"

He looked uncomfortable.

"A little of both. Its just mental pushing, you can do it to me too, once you learn how." I knew he was trying to get my to look on the bright side, but I didn't really see mental strength as a bright side. He was invading my personal space, yet another thing I had just lost to him.

"Your a jerk." I hissed.

"You almost kissed me." he pointed out, he way he way eyeing me making me realize he was interested to know why. Maybe he remembered my remark earlier and was getting a hint that I was having dreams about him.

Or maybe I was just paranoid.

"I thought you were a dream." I pointed out with a snap of irritation.

"Isn't the first time." he muttered, climbing from the bed. I gaped at him, wondering what on earth he had meant. Was he really here all along, and I had never been dreaming? No, no, he had said he had just run into me. So when else could he be speaking of.

The hospital.

Sudden mortification and shame came over me in a rushing wave, and my whole face and neck turned beat red, faster than I could turn my head to hide it. God, when I was in the hospital bed I had made out with him, then pleaded him to no longer appear in my dreams. He had no longer appeared in reality, but then I had cursed myself by him always appearing in my dreams. Seems I was doomed.

"I am sorry." the words tumbled out before I could stop them, or before I could realize why I was saying them. But when I saw the lines of his face soften a bit, I understood. I had caused him pain by doing so. By making him feel like I could never accept him in person but only in my dreams.

"Would you have kissed me?" I asked, trying to push aside my anger and irritation and remind myself that I had promised to give this guy a chance. And I could not do better than him, so I need to start trying.

"To be honest? Yes, I would have been unable to help myself." his green eyes were so intense when he said it, mixed with want and heat, not a hint of apology. It made my heart speed up at his honestly, and also because the idea excited me, made me feel wanted.

I cleared my throat, looking away from the heat in his gaze and shuffled my feet.

"So what is that?" I asked again, pointing to the bag. I could do this, this wouldn't be do bad.

"A present." he said with a big grin. He started to come around the bed, but then stopped, a frown creasing he face.

"What?" I asked, my stomach getting all tickly at his proximity.

"Your blood . . ." he trailed off, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. But I understood him, and I suddenly felt shy.

"Ah, it is taken care of."

"Is is?" damn, he asked. I was hoping he wouldn't.

"Yeah, I mean, uh, I took care of it when I got home last night."

"How?" he was curious now. Should have kept my mouth shut.

"I have a kit from Philip that allows me to draw my own blood." I said in a rush, snapping my mouth shut with an audible click to keep myself from admitting anything else.

"You can do that to yourself?"

"Well, yeah, why not?"

"That hurts, how can you just do it to yourself?" he seemed almost awed at the fact, as if I were a strong warrior just from being able to do that. I pursed my lips, thinking back, trying to remember a time when drawing blood did hurt for me like it hurt for most others.

"It use to hurt, when I was really small. I have had to have blood drawn even when I was in the womb and when I was born. I used to cry all the time when I had them done."

"What changed?" he asked softly.

I shrugged.

"To be honest, I don't know. Maybe they never hurt at all, maybe I was just a little kid who didn't like the look of needles and the idea of them being stuck in me. But as I got older, Philip was very skilled, and they didn't hurt at all, and he taught me how to do them without them hurting. I guess I am biased, though, and not really the best person to ask." I shook my head, forcing a smile. "Enough talk of that. Come get your surprise, I am eager for it."

With a smile of his own, he did come around and get it.

"I will be right back," he said softly, a husky promise that made me shiver, as he left the room and I then heard him in the kitchen.

"So, how many tattoo's do you have?" he asked, his voice loud so I could hear him clearly, and I could hear the casualness in his voice. He knew I only had one, but he wanted to have a normal conversation.

"Only one." I would indulge him then, it couldn't hurt.

"What does J.T stand for?" shit, that was a question I was hoping he would never ask. I took a deep breath, rubbing my temples and trying to wrack my brain. An excuse, I had to give him an excuse. But I was panicked now, because he was not going to like the answer to the question.

"Becca?" he called, worry in his tone.

Shit, shit shit. Oh hell, I was screwed. God, if you are up there, I hope you burn in hell for sticking me in this sort of situation!

"Jarron Tom." I called out, my voice horse and shaking. It was from fear of how he was going to react and also from the pain that the memories brought. There was a long silence, and then, "A man's name?"

I knew he was not going to take this well.

I sat down heavily on the bed. How could I explain this to him in a way he would understand? How could I explain that Jarron and me were not lovers, but I loved him in the dearest sense, that we were not friends, but companions that I never knew existed.

I swallowed heavily, the memories unable to be pushed back now, choking me up with tears, with pain, with joy from that time, from the loss of something so wonderful.

"Becca?" Kalin was in the doorway now, and I was hunched over, sitting on the bed. I didn't want to do this now, I wasn't ready, he wouldn't understand.

I almost jumped when Kalin's hand smoothed over my back. How could he touch me, no doubt thinking that I had my lovers name tattooed on my shoulder? How could he come near me, when he no doubt knew that because of Jarron, I didn't know how to love another.

"Was he your lover?" he asked softly, no condemning tone, just a simple question. I shook my head, crying silently, not wanting him to see. But his hand came under my chin, and gently he tilted my face back. I could have fought, but I didn't see a point. He felt the tears when he touched me, fighting him would have just been fighting for a pride I didn't think I had anymore.

"Then what was he?" he stroked my tears away, and it was almost too much. The memories mixed and melded and I was getting very confused about what was past and what was present. Couldn't get a hold.

"He was my best friend!" I said miserably. Babbling seemed to grip onto reality, and was all I had at the moment. I was trying to grip, trying to sort, but the memories were so real, so vivid, so wonderful. I gripped his arm, trying to anchor myself.

"What happened to him?"

"He died. The doctors told him he head a tumor in his lung, but it was easily removable, that he would be fine. But he said no, he said he wouldn't go through with the operation."

"He died because of the tumor?"

"No! A month later he was found dead in his bed. The doctors said he had died due a tumor in his brain that they hadn't seen." I sniffled, trying to stop the tears, but I remembered the day so clearly, finding his body in his bed, his eyes closed, a smile on his face. The doctors were stunned, they had done a full search of his body and they had not noticed the small tumor on the MIR. But someone Jarron had known. My kind Jarron, the only person to ever treat me like a human being.

It was his electric guitar I had in my closet.

"Oh, Becca. I am sorry."

"I just don't understand. How did he know he was going to die? He did know, he had everything in order when he died, everything, down to what he wanted everyone to have from him."

"It sounds to me like he was an old spirit."

"And old what?" it surprised me out of my tears, because I HAD heard Jarron mention them once.

"A spirit that is reborn over and over again, only to die at the same age, around the same time. They are always kind people, loving to help others and try to change the wrong."

"He was going to die anyway." I said numbly, feeling my hopes crumble. I had always hoped that there was something I could have done. That if I had just urged him to cooperate with the doctors more, they would have found the tumor, they would have seen it and saved me.

And now, Kalin was telling me there was not a damn thing I could have done.