Title: Patchwork

Chapter Seven: How Dreams Affect

Started: 7/10/10 9:46:53 PM

Edited:10/19/11 7:36:54 PM

Story Quote: How, indeed? Did that mean that it worked vice versa too? That what the real one felt, he did too?

Charlie did his best to keep his shaky knees from knocking together as the car rolled up to the Garden Life company's office. He knew how he must look, eyes red and covered by deep, dark bags, and he was getting too thin. What would they think of him when he went in? No, that shouldn't matter, they only cared about the catalog, not about his appearance. The car stopped and he worried his lip. He vaguely heard Coraline going on about something in the backseat, but couldn't bring himself to pay attention. He only caught vague impressions of some fantastical dream she was explaining.

"Are you sure you won't come?" he pleaded.

Mel gave him an exasperated look and gestured to her neck brace; otherwise saying 'I'm in no better condition, just go'.

"Don't fret, Charlie, they'll love the new catalog. At least, they'll love my chapters." Oh, haha, Charlie thought as he gave her a halfhearted glare and crawled out of the car.

Mel turned back to Coraline. "I did not call him crazy, Coraline. He's drunk." Coraline frowned deeper and crossed her arms over her chest as her door opened and Charlie leaned down.

He smiled at her fondly. It must be nice, being so young and innocent, having such an incredibly wild imagination, and not having to worry about anything. "I guess I'll see you around, you dizzy dreamer," he said, pinching the end of her nose affectionately. She pulled away and hid her nose in her crossed arms, no doubt hiding the embarrassed flush rising up her neck.

"Dad!" she cried, "I'm not five anymore!"

Charlie sighed, and backed up. Sometimes he wondered why kids had to grow up so fast. Well, he'd just have to start getting to know this new Coraline once this was all sorted out. The stress it had caused on him and Mel had been getting the better of them both, and they would have to fix that. For now, he just had to get this over with.

He shut the car door and watched it drive off, giving them a weak wave before turning to walk in the building.

This day was turning out to be a very trying one.

Coraline was staring dejectedly out of the car door at the rain, sulking because she hadn't gotten her way in the store. Mel gripped the steering wheel tightly. She didn't understand that money was extremely thin at the moment. They just didn't have the money to waste on superfluous things like those gloves. She'd just have to wait and see how today went, and keep her fingers crossed in the meantime.

"So, what do you think is in the other apartment?" Coraline asked, breaking the silence.

Mel frowned. All she knew was what Charlie dreamed was in there, and that was enough to worry. She knew it was silly, the only thing through that door was a wall of bricks, but it made her uneasy, nevertheless.

"I don't know," she said, honestly, "not a family of Jones imposters." Just a wall of bricks. That was all.

For some reason, she felt like she was just trying to convince herself with a lie.

Coraline huffed. "Then why'd you lock the door?"

"Oh, I found some rat crap and... I thought you'd feel..." she hunted for the right word, "safer." What if it was only a matter of time before this wonderful dream of hers turned out to be a nightmare, just like Charlie's? It was best to nip the bud before it bloomed.

"They're jumping mice, mom! And the dreams aren't dangerous; they're the most fun I've had since we moved here." She sounded so disappointed, and Mel hated it. No mother wants he daughter to be upset, but she just didn't understand that what she was doing was for her own good.

"Your school might be fun," she tried.

"With those stupid uniforms? Right."

She sighed and turned into their driveway. "Had to give it a try."

He sat in silence in the back pew, watching as the Other Spink and Forcible rehearsed their play that they would perform for Coraline that night. Every mistake, every crashed piece of set, every miraculous drive and swing was planned. Just another way for Coraline to see, weren't these copies so much better than the originals? If only she knew what happened to the puppets after they'd served their purpose. The other Bobinsky, in the top flat, was slowly becoming nothing more than a vessel for the mice to hide in, eating his essence and withering him away. It was horrifying, hearing his disembodied voice cry out as Other Wybie walked the grounds below.

He'd always wondered, what was the original Wybie like? He knew that as the Beldam's puppet, he should have been an improvement on the prototype, but he knew only too well how badly they were all flawed. There was nothing great about any of the copies, and none of the copies really had a personality. Well, maybe except the Other Father, and maybe himself. Was that what Coraline's real father was like?

The stage collapsed and the heavy velvet curtain swung shut so that Other Spink and Forcible to climb up into the rafters. It was this short interim that Other Wybie heard a soft scratching at the door. It was so quiet that none of the dogs near the front turned to see what had made it. He slipped out the door and climbed the steps.

It was always nighttime here, and the darkness made it difficult to make out anything in the distance. He almost tried to call out, just from habit, but the breath died in his throat, and he rubbed his shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort himself. He could feel the stitches there, under the slick fabric. Another reminder of just how bad a shape he was in. Soon he would fall apart, just like the Other Bobinsky, once he'd served his purpose.

"Hello."

That voice, smooth and dark like honey, made his insides constrict painfully. Other Wybie's head shot up to the old fallen tree, where a pair of eerie blue eyes stared back. Oh no, it was back. He couldn't afford to be attacked again, he still had too much to do, and the Beldam would never let him live through another night in her workshop. Feet were running before he thought the word run.

"Wait!" the voice shouted. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to talk."

Yeah, like he was going to believe that. Panic made his vision swim, and he stumbled into the fence, but picked himself up and immediately started running again. Unfortunately that little fall gave enough time for his pursuer to catch up to him. It knocked him in the side, not enough to hurt, he noted, just enough to make him fall, and arched as if ready to dart if he ran again. Wybie knew there was no way that he would be able to get out of this so instead he rose his hands up around his body protectively. If it was going to attack again, maybe he could get away without getting damaged enough to notice.

Then again, if it was going to attack again, it was probably to finish off the job it hadn't before.

The cat swished its tail back and forth as his eyes studied the boy cowering before him before he realized that the puppet wasn't going to try to run again. He relaxed and sat down. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated softly. "I just want to talk."

Other Wybie just hugged himself tighter and bit his lip. Was the he going to hold the torture out? Maybe if he could buy enough time he could find a way to make a break for it. Cats should know better to play with their food, but this time he was grateful for it.

The cat looked at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of verbal response, when none were brought forth he continued, "I am sorry for what I did to you. I never thought that as one of her puppets..."

Other Wybie shivered slightly at the word. He knew that was all he was, but for some reason it hurt more when it was said aloud.

"... that you would feel." The cat looked down guiltily for a moment, and Other Wybie was up in a flash, running like mad. This time he only made it a few steps before the cat had him pinned. The feline stood on his rapidly thudding chest, claws digging into the fabric, not enough to tear, just enough to warn. "Do not try that again," he seethed. "I don't want to hurt you. I will not be guilty of hurting my friend again." His eyes narrowed and he continued, "When I came here the other night, I came here with the intention to kill you, but when I returned to my own side I was met with the disturbing realization that all the wounds you attained so did my friend."

That got his attention. What did he mean? That the real Wybie was hurt because he was? How?

"I don't know," the cat answered, ignoring the shocked look Other Wybie gave him. "That's what I came to find out. I've noticed lately that he has been having fits of panic when he dreams, and I am beginning to think that the panic was not his, but yours." He gave that a moment to sink in. "You two are connected somehow, and it is dangerous. How did she do it?"

How, indeed? Did that mean that it worked vice versa too? That what the real one felt, he did too?

There was a thick moment in which nothing was said or thought. Then, "Tell me, do you want the girl to stay here?"

Other Wybie shook his head vehemently. No, he'd do anything to keep her away from here. But he couldn't do anything with the Beldam watching his every move with Coraline around, and without his voice it was absolutely impossible.

The cat nodded his head and jumped off the boy's chest. "Then I will help you. I don't believe you to be just another one of her mindless minions, and I won't just sit by and watch the stupid girl get herself stuck here. But I will need your help. Can I trust you to do that?"

This was almost too good to be true. Yes! he cried in the recesses of his mind. A grin of great approbation nearly split his face, and the cat nodded in approval.

Wybie groaned as he slept, unknowingly throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the hazy gray light streaming in from the window. In his dreams, he heard the cat talking to him in a fuzzy, distant sort of way that happens in dreams. He felt elated for a moment, knowing someone was on his side. That he could save her. That maybe, just maybe things would turn out alright. She would be saved!

Who? he thought dimly.

He wasn't really expecting a reply, but he got one.

Coraline!

That was when his eyes flashed open and he lurched upright.

Ending Song Time!

"I will keep calling you to see,

if you're sleeping or you're dreaming,

if you're dreaming are you dreaming of me?"

Song: Calling You Artist: Blue October