"I shall not forget. I am not you."–Theresa

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Awake in a Dream: From Heavens Above

Chapter 6: Lies

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Theresa and Atlanta both burst into the living room, their faces bright pink from the run back to the brownstone. Odie and Neil were the first to notice them. Nothing much had changed since they had defeated Cronus and the Scio Havarti, even though Archie had left—well, at least the little things; Odie and Neil were still lazing, respectively, in their favourite seats on the sofa, and browsing through channels, arguing over the Discovery Chanel and Home Shopping Network.

"Uh, what's up guys?" Neil's eyebrow shot up at their appearance: haggled, sweaty and alarmed.

"... Is that egg in your hair?" Herry had entered the room, hands full with popcorn and a large soda; Herry always brought movie food back with him.

"Never mind," Theresa's hair shook forward, wind-blown and in disarray. "Listen, it's about Cronus..." Jay's head appeared almost immediately, his never forgotten sword in hand.

"Cronus?"

"Don't be stupid Jay, put that away. Where the hell did you even get that?" Atlanta snapped from the other side of the room, her body collapsed against the wall, soaking it with her sweat. But she would say it was rain. Theresa knew that already.

The others didn't seem to agree with Atlanta's statement. Odie had grown pale, which was near impossible considering his skin-tone, and Herry had dropped his drink to the floor, spilling its content onto the rug. Neil didn't even bother to scream about the stain it would leave.

Jay ignored Atlanta's quip about his weapon and placed it on the coffee table. He hadn't told Theresa that he still had it. What else had it kept from her? His steps were calculating as he moved towards them. His hand picked away the last of her breakfast from the red of her mane.

"Tell me what happened."

Theresa took a deep breath in. It suddenly seemed very cold, as if chilled by past memories, always waiting; always.

"Well, I had slept in until night-time and went to check on Atlanta, who was not there. She was outside in the street, packed and ready to go, so I ran out to chase after her. We ended up at the top of this hill—you know the one over by the house? And, well..." Tears claimed territory to her eyes, "He was there Jay. I saw him. For an instant, and then he was gone."

There was an expected silence after her words. They slithered over the warm carpet and leeched safety from her friends. She did not wish to speak them, but there was no choice. Theresa had always known that this time would come, and now she would need their support to continue fighting. Still no one spoke.

"Jay, don't you remember our conversation from last night? We talked about how it was weird that the Gods were still with us, and about how we never really completed the prophecy. Doesn't this make sense? Can't it?" Jay still remained silent; his eyes were silts of black.

"Surely you do."

"Yes, of course," his voice rough.

"Then you must know I'm not making this up!" Theresa said. Neil picked away at his nails. He had sat back down on the couch.

"I'm not!" Jay was holding her hand. She shook him from her. Her small sides collapsed as the stillness overthrew her senses. She opened her eyes for the first time.

They were watching her as if she was dangerous.

Theresa blushed furiously, feeling mortified and shamed all the same. She was making a scene.. They thought she was crazy...

Jay thought she was crazy.

"You don't believe me?" Air fell short of what was required to breathe. Theresa felt the world growing hazy; her eyes unfocused, and something deep within her chest was screaming for release.

"It's not that, Theresa..." Odie looked embarrassed; his hand began rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "It's just that... Well..."

"It's been a year and one day! Exactly a year and one day!" Herry was mimicking Odie's actions, looking at his feet and then turning to study the ceiling, which had suddenly become apparently very interesting.

Theresa failed to see what was so captivating about white tile.

"Ye-eah! And you're clairvoyant. You always get crazy visions and stuff. " Neil had gone back to grooming his fingernails; his nail file made sharp noises as he worked away at the shape of their nail. Perfect, as usual.

Sritch,
Scritch,
Scritch,
Scritch...

Theresa jus t stared. Her eyes found Jay's and saw blackness: sorry, but unsupportive.

"If anything, our conversation the other day only supports your delusions."

She was alone. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Did her word mean nothing? After almost three years of being together, did she have to prove what she had seen? What they had seen.

Theresa's head snapped towards Atlanta, who had managed to make herself as small as possible, scrunched into the back of the room.

But Atlanta had always been quicker than she had, so it was expected that her mouth beat hers to the words that would save her sanity.

"I honestly don't know what she's talking about. We were out for a walk and then she began to scream, so I followed her back here. I think it may have been our conversation earlier, about Cronus and... Archie and everything else."

Atlanta had used her very own hated words. His name. There was no way the others would believe her now. Theresa had lost. Her gamble? Just her heart. It was replaceable.

Everyone had forgotten her but Jay. He was still watching Theresa, leaning on the back of his heels waiting for her to give a notion of forgiveness.

"Oh... Atlanta... I'm sorry that you had to talk about that," Herry said.

"You've been so brave through this all, but it's good to get it out," Odie added. Neil spoke next.

"Damn."

"I think I'll go for a walk," Atlanta motioned towards the door.

"Of course; go ahead." Jay signalled her and when she left there was silence. His eyes had never left Theresa's. Nothing breathed.

Theresa wanted to punch someone.

Odie must've sensed it, because he made awkward flapping gestures to the others to move it and fast. Jay didn't seem to notice.

"So... We're gonna go to bed."

Theresa blinked and they were gone.

All except Jay, the ever dedicating, logical, rational leader he was. The urge to punch grew stronger and stronger until she collapsed under its weight.

"Theresa, I want to believe you, but—"

"You can't." Lips parted, but there was no breath. Nothing stuck Jay's cheek and he flinched.

"It's not so simple." Jay looked so soft, so distressed, stressed and anxious, but Theresa could do nothing about it. She was pretty sure that once confusion passed, she would be broken-hearted. And what use were the broken?

"Come, let's go to bed, Theresa, it's late."

"I just woke up. I'm fine. I'm going for a walk."

An awkward silence hung between them; Jay stood still, unsure whether or not he should touch her or try to comfort her. His hand moved forward to embrace her by the shoulder, but lost courage half-way and ended in an awkward pat, the kind that footballers gave their buddies. It seemed fitting; she certainly felt played.

"Goodnight then."

"Yeah, and Theresa, I lo—" The door closed before he could finish.

Theresa took slow, heavy steps, transfixed by the light of the moon. Soon, other feet joined her in her dance of sorrow. She prayed they were Jay's.

But there was no God.

"Did you come to apologize?"

Atlanta's eyes slid blankly over, refusing to be acknowledged.

"Atlanta?" Theresa's voice began to verge on desperation; it cracked and fell in all the wrong places. She was falling apart—her vengeance had expired and evolved into the sum of her pain. "Why did you lie?"

"Please," Atlanta slid the palm of her hands across her open face, the night air still chilled with their flight. "I know what I did was wrong, but please, don't."

"So you did see him. I'm not crazy." Theresa knew she must've looked angry, and she was—her hands had gone tight and her jaw was clenched, but by more than just her anger. It was a fear, buried deep within her, and surfacing to consume her features. Atlanta showed no signs of the fear or confusion that gripped her and hid behind rage.

"Let's just forget about it."

"Forget? You expect me to forget? Forget what I've seen? What we saw? Everything before this moment, every tear, every battle, every minute I knew I was going to die?" Theresa wailed. Her hair caught the wind and gained a life of its own; it whipped her face and burned with tears. It was fire. She was fire. She was not weak, she would not cry. They had done enough of that—she had done enough of that. It was time for strength and resolve, and to obedience it did not bow.

"I shall not forget. I am not you."

Nor to mercy.

Atlanta was wrapped in black; barely visible against the sky, but Theresa still saw the distinct, slim shuddered that ran across her back. But it did not stop there. It traveled from her body along a brittle breeze, and nested in Theresa's stomach. It teased her for words still unspoken, almost begging her to say what she had meant. Word vomit bashed at her sides.

Theresa felt ill. It was repulsive, and it was not going away. It was the bitter taste of truth, and it could not be denied. But before Theresa could speak the name that could very well any progress she had made with Atlanta in the past year, her friend beat her to it.

"You think I forgot? You think that this is the face of someone who forgot?" She was no fire, Atlanta was, and always had been. Her eyes seared and boiled over with twilight, illuminating their dreams and leaving them bare—as bare and as broken Atlanta had been when he had left her.

"No," Theresa answered. "I'm sorry. Let's just forget about it."

The words were so ironic that they spoke for themselves, and despite everything, Atlanta had to laugh. It was dry, and small, and none too pleasant. Theresa sometimes heard the same sounds just before bed, when the things that really were best left forgotten were most alive, and crawled back into her head.

"Come on, it's late. Some things can be left until the morning. And this is one of them." The last of Theresa's fire flickered out from her fingertips as she reached forward for her comrade, it was only then that she realized it had never really been fire at all, only pride.

She had always known that her good nature would win out in the end, and yet a small part of Theresa still wanted to break free and scream: 'What about me? You wronged me, and now I'm the one apologizing—where is the justice?' But Theresa had fought for the Gods long enough to know that justice was the only myth among the two.

Her arm had never wavered, but Atlanta only glanced at her, before sighing, her hood falling to reveal a mess of purple hair.

"When I said I had not seen," the shape of her voice rippled the fabric of time, "I don't think it was to fool the others." The mist of her eyes clouded over.

"I think it was to fool myself."

"Into thinking what?" It was no longer windy, and yet Theresa felt more unbalanced than ever.

"Did it ever occur to you," her gaze met Theresa's full-on, "that the prophecy hasn't changed? We never defeated Cronus, he just vanished. And it said seven heroes would stand in his way. We are just six."

She didn't mean six, she meant minus one.

"Never mind, just forget it."

Atlanta turned back to the brownstone, and said nothing. Theresa followed with her mouth dry. The truth had a tendency to do that: strip you of words. It was hard to swallow when Theresa knew that Atlanta was right. Archie was gone, and it had been a year; he would have come back by now, if he had wanted to.

Atlanta reached for the doorknob.

But that didn't mean that Theresa couldn't change that.

"Goodnight Theresa."

"You can't keep denying what we saw."

"I know."

"But—"

"Goodnight Theresa."

"Are you going to run away again?"

"I make no promises."

"It's going to happen whether or not you want to accept it."

Silence.

"I'm going to convince Jay and the others that what I saw was real, with or without your help."

More silence. The door creaked open; it was dark; the others had gone to bed.

"And I'm going to find Archie."

"Goodnight Theresa."

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Author's Note: So I am really, honestly, and truly happy with myself and this chapter (or at least the end. The rest is a bit choppy, but I am sick). I'm going to have to go over this later and nit-pick and then curse about missing crude little details, but for now, my forgotten (haha, oh puns!) baby is perfect. Perfect fire-burning twilight eyes.

ALSO. I WENT TO GREECE. You may now beat me for bragging. –Nuuoa