King of Dreams

by Selenite

After 3 years of unavailing research, Jane meets a strange, dark-haired MIT graduate, whose brilliant mind may be the key to a breakthrough. But no one could have guessed that she might be the key to his lost memories. Eventual Lokane.

9. The Fourth Interlude

Important note: This goes to several individuals. Fisrt, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the brilliant Black Sabbath guitarist, Tony Iommi. Please, don't give up the fight! You're the true Iron Man!

And secondly, I dedicate this to all my dear reviewers and readers. You have been all so amazing, supportive and patient so far... Thank you all, guys!

Also: I don't own anything. Oh, there are several quotes from my beloved series "Red Dwarf" hidden. Extra virtual hugs for everyone who'll find them (it's quite easy - just focus on the text you find funny :)

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Chapter 9: The Fourth Interlude

I'm not guilty but I'm conscious
Of that lead weight on my conscience
Another thing I have to mention
Sadly there's no redemption

You never gonna drive those demons out of my mind
I know you're gone but you're never out of my mind
Still see those pictures of hell that sent me out of my mind

(WhoCares; Out Of My Mind)

---

Leonard allowed himself a smirk and stopped all movements. Just for a moment. Just so he could listen again to that pleading, clouded voice of Elliot Hunter.

"More please…" she breathed.

But Leonard decided to torture his victim a bit longer and ever so slowly, he just removed the dark hair covering her slender neck. Then he lowered his head and touched the soft skin with his lower lip. "More what?" he whispered, lingering there, waiting for the answer.

"You know very well." She groaned quietly and buried her fingers into his hair.

"No, somehow I just can't remember." He lied and let out a breath just before placing a long kiss on the sensitive spot under her ear.

I can't remember. Truth, in fact. Leonard could not remember anything like that. He could not summon any similar memory from his mind, nothing concrete, nothing specific. There were just similar feelings, hints...

Still, he knew precisely what he had to do. He just knew how to make Elliot do anything he wanted. It was a strange feeling, but he decided not to bother with it for the time being. Just as he made himself not to think about how this afternoon had taken a completely different direction so easily. To be exact, when he had watched Elliot silently in the lecture room this morning, thinking about his plan to finally address her, he simply had no idea it would all turn out this way.

And even if he had found that there's no need for such a plan anymore, since Ms. Hunter addressed him instead ("Hey, wait a minute! Someone just said you had discussed the exam with Hudson yesterday..?"), he would never have thought their conversation would turn out this way.

And even if they had walked slowly across the grounds and their talk had stopped concerning Professor Hudson and the exam long ago, he still wouldn't have guessed it would all turn this way. Nevertheless, he could not say he was troubled by that curious turn of events. No, he certainly was not.

Leonard was aware that these feelings were not completely unknown. He experienced them somewhere in the past, multiple times, yes, but the problem was he just could not recall with whom and where.

But it doesn't matter anymore. Since I'm sure I'll remember this. And you will as well, he decided in the end, grabbed a fistful of Elliot's smooth hair and made her head tilt back a bit more. It was strange. He was quite sure he hadn't planned this movement. For a moment, he felt as if his body was taking over, as if it was acting on its own, driven by something that had been waiting in the depths, hidden and inconspicuous.

And most likely the feeling was right. Right after Elliot let go off his hair and let her hands crawl down his neck and below, suddenly digging her nails into his skin, he simply could not resist the sudden urge to… Bite. He sucked in a breath – and snapped at her neck.

And Elliot let out a cry, as sharp and loud as her coarse voice allowed.

"Forgive me." He uttered with an oddly sounding rasp and let his lips trace her jawline. He let go off her hair and dropped his hands onto her shoulders, then let them slide further down the smooth skin of her back, until he reached the thin line of soft, yet now rather useless fabric.

Elliot laughed lightly when she felt his searching fingers. "No, not like that." she whispered.

Leonard pressed his forehead against her cheekbone and bit his lip. "Then what about this?" he asked and not waiting for the answer, he moved his hands upwards. His long, slender fingers slid under the straps of her bra and trailed the lines of her shoulder blades on their way up. After reaching the shoulder, he removed the right strap first, slowly, deliberately, and placed his lips instead of it.

"I guess your boyfriend would not like this at all." He breathed, his lips still attached to the silky skin.

"If he knew…" Elliot chuckled silently.

Leonard returned the smile. "But that is rather inevitable."

"Mmm. And what if not?" she giggled again.

"What if not?" Leonard asked roguishly. "I think – that just before the break-up – he would like – to know the reason." he added in between the kisses.

"But I still don't think so." Elliot remarked playfully, but it sounded convincing.

"Why?" Leonard asked, looked into her eyes and removed the other strap as well. "Are you planning to make the end quick and cruel?" He grinned. "Without explanations?" He closed his eyes slowly and touched her little nose with his lips. "Oh, I like it." He whispered wickedly.

"Hey!" Elliot protested with a giggle. "You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" he arched one eyebrow in confusion and pulled away.

"I don't intend to break up with Dan." Elliot stressed out and tilted her head. Then she evaded his stare. "For now." She added. "Anyway, he's away for half a year. So, it's nothing you should bother with." Said Elliot, showed an innocent, sweet smile and bit Leonard's chin in a soft, playful manner.

"Wait. I'm still not getting it at all." Leonard objected, grabbed Elliot by the shoulder and pushed her away.

"Well…" Elliot grinned and twisted one of his hair-strands around her finger. "Look, I'm not the one who chose the fellowship in Europe. And I'm pretty sure Dan most probably does exactly the same things there as we're doing now and here." She shrugged and looked away. "So why should I care? Besides, you're so nice and I feel so good around you… So what? It's good to have a friend with benefits." She laughed finally and pressed herself against him. "And especially someone like you." She purred.

But Leonard just raised a hand and ran the fingers through his tousled hair. A furrow creased his forehead and a bitter smile twisted his lips as he looked at the window, almost like searching for the unknown answers. He snorted. "And how many of those 'special' friends do you have in your reserve?" Leonard asked finally and looked her in the eye.

Elliot retuned the look, but her dark eyes were slowly filling with anger. "What?" she asked in disbelief and narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. "Who do you think I am?" she shouted and raised a hand to slap him. However, she was not given a chance.

Since it took just a swift movement, and Leonard snatched her hand effortlessly.

"Let go!" she hissed menacingly.

"Or what?" Leonard asked, his voice silent but steady, and stepped forward. His breath deepened. Despite he did not wish for it, he tightened the grip around her wrist. He could feel the tiny bones press against his knuckles. He could sense her quickened pulse drum against his fingertips. And it felt so…

Her eyes widened with pain and her eyebrows twisted in a pleading angle. "Release me! It hurts!" Elliot squeaked and tried to yank her arm out of his grasp. Leonard wanted to say something, but instead, merciless, he just twisted the hand he was holding in a painful way and with a single yank he pulled Elliot towards him.

"Let go, please! You're… so cold…" she breathed desperately, just before the fingers of his left hand twirled gracefully around her pale, exposed neck. Under his grasp, she tilted her head back and her eyes gleamed with fear and terror.

"P-please…" she uttered, rasping, and squeezed his wrist, her fingers tightening convulsively.

Leonard's pupils dilated. Suddenly wide-eyed, his glare shot to the ground. "Get out of my sight." He seethed.

And Elliot did not hesitate. Without wasting even a second, she grabbed her top and just pressing it against her chest, she staggered as fast as she could out of the room. Just a few jagged breaths could be heard from the hall as she gathered her shoes and bag. "You're insane!" she cried and slammed the door shut.

The whole apartment resonated with the sound. As did Leonard's mind with her last words. Fury and rage were flowing through his veins, shaking him, burning him inside. He felt he had to do something. He had to do something now. He clenched his fists and tried to gain control over the frenzied urge to run outside, catch her and… And what? What then?

Terrified by his own thoughts, Leonard covered his face with his palms. A low growl made its way through his vocal chords. Hang in there… He tried to persuade himself. Just a little longer…

In the end, he just held his breath, pulled the palms away from his face and slowly and carefully, he let his hands hang along his lean body. It's gone. He breathed finally. A small cloud of mist escaped his mouth. What? He kind of woke up and frowned. Once again – breathe in, breathe out. Nothing. What was that?

Leonard dropped to the ground and rested his elbows on the huge double bed. His breathing was heavy and fast, like he just finished a long run. He closed his eyes, let his forehead lean against the bed surface and covered his head with his hands.

I can't let it happen ever again. He thought. He realized his mouth was wet, so he raised his head slightly and wiped the saliva away with his wrist. I'll have to take a shower. He told himself.

Or… that can wait for a while. He decided eventually.

And in his thoughts, he went through the latest events again and again. He tried to account for his actions, rationalize his behavior. Because it frightened him. He was terrified of how quickly he had lost it.

But in the end, everything started to subside and fade away. And as his breath slowed down and calmed, he turned his head to the side and relaxed. Perhaps I just shouldn't think about it. Just let it go. He told himself and tried to think about something different.

And as many times before, he chose to run. To steal away silently and hide from his own mind.

Sure, there were moments when he was ready to give everything for just a glimpse of a real memory; he would give anything just to be able to learn something tangible about himself. However, there were also days when his worst fear was nothing else than his past – he felt something creeping and crawling at him like a dark shadow, he sensed people turning around and watching… And at those moments he felt trepidation and fear. And at those days, he hoped that the memories had been lost forever, because he was terrified by the truth they might conceal.

He jerked suddenly. While trying to summon some known images of his present life he stumbled upon something unexpected, but of a great value to him. Although he still did not know if it was just a snapshot from a dream, or a true memory. The face of a woman with brown eyes and chestnut-colored hair.

He did not care how many times his friends and family had told him not to think about her, explaining to him that most likely she's not real at all. No. She was real. At least for him. And he was certain he would not give up on her. He wanted to learn how to summon her delicate, beautiful face at any time so he would not miss the chance to recognize her, if there was an opportunity. Because he hoped to meet her someday. And clinging onto that hope was one of the things that kept him alive and sane through every day.

Yes, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that beyond all the fear there was something normal his past was hiding from him. Something nice and warm. Just this single, tiny remnant.

And now… Leonard inhaled sharply and resisted the urge to flutter his eyes open in surprise.

He could see her. So clearly as never before. And not just her face, he could see her entire figure. She was... short. Tiny. And beside her, there was another woman standing, with long, wavy dark hair. And a middle-aged man, his hair short and bright. All of them were looking up, their stares terrified. After a while, Leonard got a strange impression that they were looking at him. But… Me? Why would they look at me?

However, Leonard could not think of any reasonable answer to this question. And despite of it, or maybe just because of it, he started to feel guilty. What if he truly had been the cause of her fear? What if he had hurt her in the end? That was just insane... She was so beautiful. He did not even know her and yet, he cared for her. And yet... he desired. And he could not resist; and he had just learned where his relentless desires had led him. What he had just done. What he could have done...

The feeling grew suddenly stronger, maybe also because of the clarity of the whole image. He could never see the scene as clearly as he could now. However, there was no one to whom he could possibly apologize for whatever he had done in the past, nor for the things that happened in his apartment just moments ago. So he just chose to focus.

He decided to concentrate on every detail of her face, eyes and hair, her figure and appearance. He tried to memorize and absorb it all in one piece. No, her hair was a brighter shade than he thought at first, more like caramel. And the front tresses were even brighter, almost blonde. And even though her features showed fear and worry, she was still beautiful.

The most endearing being in the known universe. I've got you now. Leonard smiled eventually. You can't be just an image from a dream. You are real. Slowly, he dared open his eyes and look around the room. And now I know exactly what you look like. And one day I'll find you, no matter what. I know for sure.

Fully relaxed and comforted, Leonard let out a breath and closed his eyes again. He was just about to let that tiny bit of new hope settle in his heart when something absolutely terrible struck him unprepared.

Do you like her? The well-known, sharp and cold voice pierced his being and ripped his soul in shreds in just one terrifying second.

Leonard froze, unable neither to move nor to do anything at all. No, not now, please! He clenched his palms in fists and closed his eyes firmly.

He felt completely shocked and taken aback. He was not prepared. But even if he could have sensed it coming, one can never be prepared for such a confrontation. Leonard almost stopped thinking about that unknown alien in his head recently. He was almost certain that the nightmare was over. However, clearly, it was not. And so his cruel, virtual companion, his alter ego, was back.

There, there. Don't tell me you have already forgotten. The voice mocked him, harboring biting sarcasm and cruelty.

"Go away!" Leonard shrieked, refusing to believe the situation real.

Go away? But why? The voice faked a hurt concern. We've just reunited, my friend! After such a long time… I thought I would earn much warmer welcome!

"Never!" Leonard shouted again, and then seethed in a wild rage. "What do you want from me?" He added more quietly and looked over his shoulder, despite knowing he was not going to see anyone there. He held his breath.

Hm. So, are we going to have a talk in the end? The cold voice sliced through the silence. Very well. You want to know what I want? Pause. The girl.

"Wh-which one?" Leonard rasped and leaned his forehead on the bed, entwining his hands at his scruff.

The one I've just let you see.

"Let?" Leonard asked in a weak, desperate whisper.

Of course I let you! The voice laughed in reply. What have you been thinking? That I'm not aware about her image in your mind? Another chuckle. You know… I let you think about her. I wanted you to desire to find her. And the reason is pretty simple. It's because I AM the one who wants to find her in the first place!

"What? Why? Do you know her?" Leonard's heartbeat skyrocketed. "Do I know her?"

Silence! The voice spat cruelly. You were given an opportunity. And how did you show your gratitude? Instead of searching for her you're merely fooling around with random sluts!

"What?" Leonard gasped.

Oh, what? The voice mimicked Leonard's desperation. I see. Any attempts for having a reasonable talk with you today are rather ridiculous, aren't they? Huh… it puffed dramatically. Please forgive, but I am forced to punish you. I have to take the girl back and take care of the task myself. I can't rely on you anymore.

Leonard tried not to let those words in his mind, he tried to ignore them. He could still see her so vividly. "You can't!" he uttered in an attempt to resist.

Well, actually… I can. The other one whispered almost softly, the poison unmistakably dripping behind those subtle words. It may hurt a bit. He added in a mere whisper.

Leonard struggled to stay focused and fix the image firmly into the patterns of his mind, but it was useless. A pitch-black smudge ran across the picture of the beautiful, delicate face of the unknown woman. And a sharp, splitting ache made its way through his head, as if his skull was stabbed with a long, cold knife.

Leonard heard his own voice screaming and echoing through the room. But everything sounded so distant and pointless. The only real thing was the pain. Terrible pain that engulfed and crossed his whole being. He intertwined and clutched his fingers convulsively, and that was all he could do.

Another black smudge, another merciless wave of pain.

Leonard clenched his teeth as his body arched and twisted painfully. This is unbearable… I can't take it any longer. He thought. It's impossible. Just impossible. Someone, please… Please! He begged even though he knew the only one listening would merely laugh at him.

And the sharp, piercing laughter came in reply. Leonard felt a strange taste on his tongue. Please! Please stop this… I can't…

Another smudge and the memory was gone.

I can't take it anymore! Please…

Oh, what's going on? The voice asked. Are you mad at me? Aw, you're not, are you? It sighed. You know what; I have something to tell you. You'll find her. You'll find that woman for me. However, you won't recognize her. How sad… But I will. And do you know what will happen then?

"No!" Leonard shrieked. His fingers swirled around each other spasmodically like clinching snakes.

You know it, right? A venomous purr sounded. You know what's going to happen. Because you know me. I have just shown you, with the other woman. Do you remember?

Leonard just froze in sheer terror. The cruel voice was not just within his head anymore. He could hear it coming from the outside. He could hear it right beside him, it was whispering in his ear. He turned his head to the other side to avoid it, quickly, stubbornly.

And he burst in tears when he heard the cold sound of the voice coming from that side as well. Just what are you trying to achieve right now? It laughed in a very biting manner. You can't just run away from me. You can't escape yourself, can you? Yes, I've taken her from you. But no need to be so sad. Look – I have something far more interesting here…

Leonard turned his head to the other side again.

Look at me! There's no point in avoiding me! The voice insisted.

The wet cheek pressed against the blanket as Leonard's head turned again. „Please..." he sobbed silently.

Stop that! Who do you want to affect with this whining? The voice shouted. Just look at you! Stop avoiding yourself!

"No!" Leonard cried once again, his voice rasping. He was forced to open his eyes eventually, since he sensed a strange tickling on the skin of his hands. He straightened and rubbed away the tears using his wrist. The skin of his hand felt different. Rough.

Confused, he turned and leaned back against the bed. He bent his knees and dragged them close to his body as he looked at his pale, cold hands.

And at first, the limbs looked quite normal; nothing indicated that there was something wrong. However, as the tickling sensation returned, he could see a blue shadow building up from the fingertips and progressing slowly down the long fingers to the palms and wrists. The nail beds blackened, bulged and protruded. The skin got a strange pattern of curved lines, almost as though someone had scratched a secret sign there.

"What's this?" Wide-eyed and desperate, Leonard gasped as he watched the blue color darken gradually. His hands were trembling with the change. Filled with terror and disgust, Leonard let out a silent yelp. A thin stream of saliva ran down his chin and a small bubble formed in the corner of his mouth. His eyes were not able to shed tears anymore. They just wouldn't. Instead, a terrifying, inhuman shriek escaped his throat.

See? The voice laughed coldly. This is me. This is you!

---

ooOOOoo

Heimdall felt rather uneasy. This was the second time he blinked. Second time this week. How come? Is there something wrong with me? Or am I just growing old? He sighed barely audibly and focused fully on his task again.

Some time ago, he used to be the Gatekeeper of the Nine Realms. And he used to guard the Bifrost, a mighty tool once able to link the worlds together or even destroy them.

He had had lots of visitors at that time. Travelers. Harbingers. Sorcerers and their apprentices studying the wondrous work of their ancestors. His king. His king's sons. The Warriors Three and all the mighty heroes and shining armies of the Realm Eternal.

But everything changed. It was different now. One direction or another, they were all gone. The travellers were all hidden, minding their own lives as there was nowhere to go to, nothing to see and discover ever again. And so there was calm. Peace and silence. And he was left alone. A lonesome Guardian standing tireless at the ledge of a shattered Bridge that led into the darkness of the vast space, just above the thundering waters falling into nothingness.

Yet, he had something he chose to call a company in fact. They were all those weird beings he had been told to watch every day and every night. They did not know they were observed; their realm was too far away for them to feel it. They could just suspect. However, from what Heimdall have seen so far, Jotunheim had a lot of their own business and did not need to waste time and energy on anything else than the fierce battles of the throne.

Since the death of King Laufey, the same scenes could be observed every day. Images of snow blizzards and unmerciful wars during which the Jotuns were able to build and shatter again the whole ice fortresses within mere moments. The cruel pictures from the battlefields, when the Jotuns sliced each other in pieces using the ice blades with almost a surgeon's precision. The scenes when the opponent's skin was pierced with black claws and flesh lacerated and torn apart. And following this nation's nature, most of those things were done in silence. No words, no cries. Since no one dared to show his fear or pain first.

And so Heimdall watched them and their silent wars. Quiet, peaceful and alone. He was waiting patiently for any conclusion of this terrifying show and absorbed everything carefully into his memory, so he would be able to tell his king about what he had seen when the right time comes.

And today was no different. Jotunheim was still at war, the battles raging on, as fierce and desperate as ever.

Nevertheless, there suddenly was something that caught Heimdall's attention stronger than usual.

It was… a desperate cry of one of the Jotuns. Well, that fact alone wouldn't be so strange. Surprising was the direction from which the sound came. How..? Heimdall felt stunned and terrified for a moment. Terrified that he might have missed something important. Again. How is that even possible?

I'll have to look there. Despite my task… He let out a trembling breath. I was told to observe the Jotuns, after all, wasn't I? He decided finally and turned his golden gaze to Midgard, to the realm of the mortals.

He let the weeping voice lead his sight straight to the right place… almost there… and then Heimdall, the one who had seen too many things in his long life to be surprised or startled by anything, felt astounded. He had almost forgotten how it feels like. And now…

He watched the mysterious being that caused this big surprise. It was a tall, lean man with long, dark hair. He was lying on the floor by the bed, shirtless and curled up. At the first sight he looked just like any other mortal. But the blue hands with black claws could not escape Heimdall's notice. The hands of a Frost Giant.

And then, when the Guardian looked at the man's face, there was no mistake in his presentiment. Heimdall swallowed as he was forced to blink once again – for the third time this week! – because it was clear as a shining star who that strange man was. It was someone whose face he remembered too well. Someone who could deceive even the watchful golden eyes. Someone who was considered lost forever.

But there he was. Just lying there, shivering violently, all alone in the world he had always despised.

Prince Loki.

---

ooOOOoo

Leonard heard the key clicking in the door lock. Someone entered the hall.

"Leonard, sweetie, I'm home!" the known voice bubbled merrily. "Any thought on whom I've nearly bumped into down on the street?" the comer went on, not waiting for the answer. This statement sounded a bit muffled, as though the man who spoke it was eating something. The noise of the closing door followed.

"Elliot." The man mumbled. "Something's telling me she was here." The man chuckled after that. "To be honest, she didn't look much satisfied, though. Mhm…" a short pause for swallowing, "Can you please explain to me what happened?" The voice came nearer. "Leonard? Are you here?"

The addressed wanted to answer at first, but he rather bit his lip instead. Leonard was too afraid that the words he would attempt to say might sound exactly the same as all the weird noises he had been making until now.

"Leonard?" the other man called again and entered the room. Leonard heard the nearing, heavy footsteps.

Looks like he forgot to take the shoes off. Leonard mused blankly. Quite obviously. He realized when a pair of black Martens stepped into his quite interesting view of the chair legs.

"Lenny?" Bret asked, his voice suddenly shifting into worried. "What are you… What happened?" He continued as he got down on his knees. "Lenny? Will you speak to me?" he said softly and brushed the dark hair away from Leonard's forehead and tried to lift him up to prop his shaking body against the bed.

"Don't look at me." Leonard rasped and yanked his arms out of Bret's hold, avoiding his eyes.

"Why? What's going on?" Bret insisted and took Leonard by the shoulders.

"I... Something's wrong with my hands." Leonard whined desperately.

"What?"

"Something... Something is happening with them."

"But I'm asking – what?" Bret asked quite impatiently and took Leonard's hands in his. "They look quite normal. Just... a bit scratched. And as cold as ever." He said finally.

But Leonard sensed something very close to uncertainty in his friend's voice. "Are you sure?" he breathed out a question.

"Quite sure." Bret assured promptly and as if trying to prove his statement, he opened his clasped palms and revealed Leonard's own shaking hands to the daylight. And they looked... perfectly normal. The skin assumed back the pale shade, the nail beds returned to their original positions, the black color vanished. The only thing that was extra were the numerous scratches, some of them running deep enough for the blood beads to appear on the surface. Watching this, Leonard remembered the moments of mad desperation, when he had been struggling furiously to remove the blue imprints from his skin.

Leonard snorted in disbelief, or even disdain. Did that happen at all? Was it real or did everything just come from my thoughts?

"There's something wrong with me." Leonard uttered and kept on staring at his pale hands, surrounded again by the warm fingers of his blonde colleague.

"And what's supposed to be wrong?" Bret asked, almost whispering.

"I felt... I've seen my hands turning blue. Completely. I mean..." Leonard's voice sounded very distant, his expression was blank and empty. "There were claws. I had a set of black claws." He chuckled, the sound as empty as his look. "But have I really seen it? I believed it. I... I'm going insane, Bret. I must be." Leonard breathed and looked to the ground. "I must be crazy."

"No, you're not..."

Leonard's gaze shot up. "What?" He snapped in reply, making Bret shudder. "What am I then, Bret? A monster that happened to escape someone's lab a year ago? Or... Or a psychopath who can't control himself and is haunted by his insane imagination?" His voice got stronger, more pressing. "And which is worse? Tell me!" He shouted in the end and bore his gaze into the deep blue eyes in front of him that were observing him with fright and worry. He sank into them as though he could find the answers to all the world's most intriguing questions there. "Tell me, please." He added more silently and felt his throat constrict.

The blue orbs got covered by the heavy eyelids and turned to the ground.

"Look," Bret began after a while, his voice quiet and strangely steady. "I can't tell you where you came from. I doubt I will ever learn the truth myself. But I just don't care, do you hear me?" he stressed out and looked back at Leonard. "I don't know who you used to be. But I know who you are now." His voice slipped into an urgent whisper, eyes narrowed. "You're my friend. The best I could have ever found. Look at me, Lenny!" he commanded at cradled Leonard's pale cheeks in his hands. "I know for certain that you are not insane. Well... maybe a little. But who isn't? Everyone has their own personal demons – just look at me. You're just a bit different, that's all. So what? I don't care."

And Leonard felt very confused at that statement. It was so familiar; he heard those words somewhere before...

He could see the same, deep blue eyes, bright hair... just much softer and smaller... younger. They had belonged to a child, he realized. They had belonged to a little boy who had been watching him as intently as Bret did now. And moreover, Leonard realized that he had been a child as well at that time. His tiny, skinny hands had been resting in the hands of the other boy. "You are just a bit different." The blue-eyed boy insisted. "But you know, I don't care. I'll always be with you and protect you!"

"Promise?" Leonard asked eagerly, his eyes still veiled in the vision.

"What?" Bret just tilted his head in a slight confusion. The memory dissipated.

Leonard blinked. "Doesn't matter." He said and looked away.

"What do you want me to promise you?" Bret asked, intrigued, and drew closer. "C'mon, tell me." He said and his long, golden hair edged forward strand by strand and brushed over Leonard's arms.

"I said it was nothing!" Leonard jerked back. "Go away." He murmured under a hint of a smile.

"You're laughing." Bret noted and grinned.

"It's just your stupid hair. It tickles. Go away!" the dark-haired man frowned.

"You're laughing. I've seen it, so don't try to deny it." The blonde insisted, got heavily on his feet, walked away and returned in no time with a thin roll of toilet paper.

"What do you think you're doing?" Leonard frowned even more as he observed his companion.

"Nothing bad." Bret just shrugged in reply. "Uh, it also seems we're out of hankies again. Sorry." He explained evasively, tore off a piece of paper, got down and started wiping Leonard's eyes and cheeks. "Tell me now, what kind of life would you lead without me?" he sighed, grinned again, and removed all the wet hair tresses from the pale forehead. Then he brushed the paper over Leonard's nose and hesitated.

Leonard looked up at his blonde friend and found a mysterious twinkle in the blue eyes. "Bret..?" He asked at last, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, um… Would you... blow your nose?" the blonde offered, lifting his bright brows up, the supressed laughter threatening to burst out.

At first, Leonard tilted his head and just watched his friend askance. But then something in his eyes melted. „Give it to me!" he spat in the end, failing to hide his own chuckles.

"There, this is much better." Bret sighed, somewhat relieved, and sat down beside his friend. "So, what now?" he murmured after a silent moment.

"Dunno." Leonard mumbled back.

The tall blonde scratched at his temple. "I think I need to hear something really worthy. What's in the stereo, you remember?"

"Exactly the same thing that we have listened to last night."

"Ah." Said Bret and tilted his head back, resting it against the bed. "Thanks, I wouldn't have guessed. The question is – what we've been listening to?"

Leonard just bowed his head silently and looked at his hands once again. The scratches appeared brighter. "Shiro put there some classical music, but then he exchanged it for something else. I don't know."

"Mr. Wednesday doesn't know? Impossible." the blonde pointed out in a mocking tone and turned a little to check on Leonard's reaction.

"Piss off."

"I'm currently not able to, sorry." Said Bret, faking an apologetic tone and clacked his shoes together.

"Then maybe you could take your shoes off at least." Leonard reminded, sighing.

"Or maybe I can play something myself…" Bret thought aloud, leaving the remark about his shoes unnoticed.

"Or maybe you could take the shoes off." Leonard sounded again, not giving up.

"What? Did someone said something?" Bret turned and looked around the room.

Leonard suddenly leaned in and shouted straight into his friend's ear. "Shoes, Bret, take off the…"

"Ah, my shoes! They're still on, right?" asked the blonde, showing a great talent for acting surprised. "Well, do you want to take that risk? I must warn you my feet got quite sweaty today."

"Of course not here!" the lean man was seemingly appalled at the thought. "You go in the hall, take the stupid boots off, put them into the wardrobe and then you wash your feet."

"Nah. Sorry, too many requests at once." Bret answered lazily and got up. "Gonna play for a while, if you'd excuse."

"Bret… How many times I promised you I'd kill you?"

"Don't know. I can't pay attention to all the shit you keep repeating." Bret just sighed in a bored manner and approached the stand with his guitar.

Leonard cleared his throat, turned his side to the bed and leaned his elbow against it. "You touch that guitar and I'll remove the E string and garrote you with it." He proclaimed sweetly.

At that, Bret stopped and peeked over his shoulder. Silence. "Can I do anything?" he spat after a moment and turned around completely. "Is it ok if I breathe?" he asked, chuckling. "Can I breathe?"

"You should do some serious learning, Bret." Leonard answered, slightly amused, rubbing his weary face.

"That's none of your business." the blonde simply waved him off.

"Oh isn't it?" Leonard raised his eyebrows, got up and sat on the huge double-bed. "Very well. Just – would you please explain to me as to how exactly are you planning to pass that exam tomorrow? You'll need it to get the credit."

Bret shrugged at that. "Somehow… I don't care."

"What kind of talk is that?"

"And who do you think you are? My mother?" Bret retorted, looking disgruntled. "I said I don't care, as I don't give a damn to the stupid credit." He explained and fell into the chair in front of the bed.

"What?"

"What – what?" Bret frowned, looking annoyed. "You've known all the time that I intend to return to Berklee, don't even try to look surprised!" He added as he leaned against the small table, supporting his chin with his hand, looking elsewhere.

"Oh. So it appears you really mean it." Mumbled Leonard and folded his long legs under him.

"Of course I do." Bret confirmed his friend's thoughts and kept on viewing his thumb while digging a line onto the desk surface.

"All right. So, can I forget about what you've said just a moment ago?" Leonard wondered, looking down.

"What are you talking about?" Bret's eyebrows furrowed.

"Hm. Someone just claimed me to be their best friend, nothing of a great importance." Leonard sneered, hiding the disappointment.

"But you are, I'm not changing my mind." Bret turned his surprised look to the dark-haired, sitting man on the bed.

"Well, if you leave it'll never be the same. Like it or not." The latter uttered silently.

"What are you driveling about?" Bret blurted, jumping up from the chair. „Nothing is going to change!" He declared firmly, jabbing a forefinger in Leonard's direction. "At least not for me. Look, it's not like I'm actually going to leave, is it? I'm just going to do something else than you do for a change... Is there really any problem about it?"

Leonard let out a disillusioned laugh. "No, of course it's not." He said coldly.

"What?" The blonde inclined his head, frowning and full of doubt. "Hey, what's going on here?"

"What's going on?" Leonard finally looked up, his gaze accusing. "Nothing!" He spat sullenly. "But have you ever considered the option that you actually haven't just lost a year on MIT? You're quite smart and skilled, Bret. And if you cared a bit more, you would belong to the top of our class. That's going on, just that, nothing more."

"Yeah, sure…" Bret laughed bitterly and ambled towards the fridge.

"I'm serious, Bret. You could finish the studies quite easily. You can do that and you know it." Leonard insisted and turned so his eyes could follow his roommate.

"Aw, isn't it just awesome? But I tell you something. I'm not interested." Bret paused and tapped his fingertips at the fridge door.

"Stop that nonsense!" Leonard scowled at his friend angrily. "What do you think looks better in a CV, MIT or Berklee?"

"Do I really have to answer that?" Bret raised one bright eyebrow, and not even checking on the contents of the fridge, he just walked to the big double-bed and sat down, his back towards Leonard.

"Bret, we're having a conversation." The latter reminded.

"Oh yeah? And what else do you want from me? I don't know what's better... I guess it just depends on what kind of job you want..." Bret waved his hands around him in something close to helplessness. "But first of all – I'm definitely not going to spend my life sitting and getting fat in some dull office or lab. I just want to make music, travel the world, meet people, see something worthy, live…"

Silence.

"I know." Leonard breathed after a long moment. "I just… I'm just sorry you're wasting your talent."

"Ah!" Bret woke up and darted an angry and confused look at his friend. "But when I am telling you not to waste your talent, it just doesn't count, does it?"

"This is something different." Leonard objected, sounding annoyed.

"No, Leonard, it is not. Definitely not for me!"

"Fine! So, is there something, anything I could have done and didn't?"

"You're asking me?" Bret all but cried out. "So I tell you what - How many times you said that we ought to repeat that little show in the pub? And how many times you promised me you would write that lyrics for me? And what happened?" he snorted finally.

"All right, sorry. But you still seem to be missing a point. I have more than three times fuller schedule than you, my friend." Leonard pointed out. "I'm sure you would agree that one has to spend some time with the textbooks in such a case."

"Just don't give me that shit, Leonard!" Bret burst out. "And please be so kind and stop bragging about having to learn. How many times you were fooling around with Midget instead?"

"We're lucky he's not here…" Leonard chuckled quietly.

"Yeah? I don't give a damn." The blonde in rage spat angrily and turned away.

"Whoa, Bret! What do I hear?" Leonard let out a sudden giggle and straightened his back. "I think I may know now what's going on with you." He went on and sneaked closer. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"What?" Bret glared at his roommate in a very menacing manner. "Don't even try to foist this nonsense on me! I'm not the one who started it."

"Oh, come on, Bret. You. Are. Jealous. Admit it." Leonard grinned, seemingly amused with the thought.

"Piss off."

"We apologize but the service you have requested is currently unavailable." Leonard stated in a poised and maybe a bit mocking fashion and looked down at his intertwined fingers.

"So just do me the favor and shut up. Sometimes you babble too much." Bret mumbled in response and midlessly, he began to rub the tiny and dried crumbs away from the blanket.

"Well, I guess it's just the way I am…" Leonard sighed eventually and helped Bret with his momentary interest in keeping their sheets crumb-free. "But still, I think…" he said quietly after a minute of indifferent silence, giving his bright-haired companion a tentative, sideways glance.

"What is it?" Bret murmured, his tone slightly more interested than he intended.

And Leonard smiled softly. Got you, Bret.

"Mmh... Nothing particular. Just a mere idea." Leonard stated lazily and waved his hand as if chasing the thought away, but at the same time he looked up to observe Bret's reaction.

"Hey. Just feel free to tell me." Bret urged his friend to continue and seated himself closer as well. "Every time you pretend to have nothing particular in mind, it turns out to be something pretty interesting. So?"

"Well…" Leonard began carefully, cradling his chin in the palm and propping the elbow on his bent knee. "I think you're quite good anyway." He spoke, observing the jumping crumbs. "Besides, you have always claimed you like playing other musician's stuff, but you love to add something of your personality to that." Leonard paused to look curiously at his friend. "So your style can be easily recognized. And... I think it actually is really... distinguished."

"Distinguished?" Bret smiled cautiously, adding a soft snort. "Wait… You want to delude me into thinking that I don't need to go back to Berklee, don't you?" He asked then, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I'm sorry, but that was quite poor. Don't you feel slightly out of shape today?"

"All right. Whatever." Leonard admitted and dropped his eyes, appearing disappointed. "I just don't want us to... to drift apart, that's all."

"Hm." Bret stopped in thought, then continued pulling and rubbing at the blanket. "The question is – what do we do?"

Leonard chose to run his pale fingers through the black hair and tugged the long tresses behind his ear. "Then what about… what if I stopped wasting my talent?" he offered and laid his gaze upon Bret.

"Well," Bret began after a thoughtful moment, "that certainly… Wouldn't be that bad."

"That bad?" Leonard repeated, raising his dark eyebrows.

"Yeah. I think that in fact, it'd be…" Bret stopped for a moment, "It would be great. No. More like… Awesome. Amazing – just…" he uttered finally and looked up, wearing a vigilant smile. "What do you think?" he asked unnecessarily.

"Bret. If we assume that I offered it… Yes, I guess." Leonard shrugged.

"Really?"

"I. said. Yes."

Bret just shook his head and leaned his face against his palm. He fell silent for a while. "Fine." He blurted out suddenly, stood up and went to the hall. Leonard was watching that silently, waiting patiently for the outcome. Some noises coming from the small hall could be heard in the meantime. Then a long moment of silence followed, after which Bret reappeared in the door, holding a paper in his hands. For some reason he wore a kind of tragic, but defiant expression.

"Bret?"

The addressed just sauntered towards the bed and ever so slowly, almost solemnly, raised the hand that held the paper and unfolded it carefully. He read through the text for a while himself before turning the document to Leonard. The latter shifted in his position to get nearer and viewed the text. He recognized the header of Berklee College of Music. A paragraph of thick text followed. Then huge, bold letters that said: Accept. Another two paragraphs with necessary details, a stamp and two signatures. However, Leonard was not given the chance to read any further, because the page suddenly started to rip apart. Bret's long fingers aligned the resulting two pieces of paper together and ripped them as well. And again. And once more.

"Bret, what are you..?" Leonard mumbled and observed his colleague, stunned. "I didn't know you had done the exams already. Why didn't you tell us anything?"

"Not sure." Bret just shrugged at first. "Guess I didn't want to speak too soon." He continued then. "I didn't want to give anything away before I knew the outcome. So I could avoid all the stupid questions… And then we might have celebrated a bit…" he said in a quiet voice, let out a nervous chuckle and moved a tress of hair from his creased forehead. He kept on watching the ripped pieces of paper in his hand. "Before I came home I had been to the post office." He indicated simply.

"Wait. Are you telling me that… You mean you've just learned the result yourself? Today?" Leonard got up and straightened as he eyed his friend with a sheer disbelief and amazement.

"Yeah." Bret muttered under his breath and shrugged. "But it doesn't matter now, does it?" he added somewhat huskily while his eyes lowered and fixated on the floor.

Leonard stood up from the bed and just watched his friend for a while. The latter bowed his head so the golden hair was partly hiding his face. But just before that happened, Leonard had caught a glimpse of something tiny and gleaming that appeared temporarily on Bret's cheek and then trailed off in the bright-colored beard.

"Bret." Leonard began quietly. "You. Are. An idiot. You're a total…" he paused and flailed his arms, "A word has yet to be invented to describe…"

"…how totally whatever-it-is I am, but I am one." Bret grinned and filled in the commentary he'd just cut in. He raised his head and his gleaming eyes smiled.

"Bret, I…" Leonard murmured, "I value this gesture very much. However, tearing a paper apart doesn't really change anything. You would need to send a letter with the official refusal."

"Leonard - " Bret sighed.

"And that's not what I want." Leonard answered, looking straight into Bret's eyes. "I shouldn't have said all that. It's your life and I don't want to interfere."

"I think you're right." Bret replied after a while. Leonard gave him just a quiet and somewhat worried glance.

"I'm going to write that letter right now." Bret declared resolutely and pushed his friend aside. "Where's your laptop?"

"Bret, stop it! Don't do that just because of me!"

"Be quiet!" spat the blonde, turning around and pointing a finger at Leonard. "I'm doing this for my own sake. As long as you truly mean your words..?"

"Well… I still do." Leonard confirmed quietly.

"Then I truly do that just for my own good." Bret said finally and kept on pacing wildly through the room. His golden hair waved behind him and fell into his face every time he turned around. It made Leonard think about a nervous lion trapped in a cage.

"Take the Shiro's." Leonard advised eventually and put on a mysterious smile.

"Hey. It's Midget's laptop we're talking about." Bret stopped, hesitant. "Who knows what we may find there. Plus, he's got a password."

"Hm. First – why are we calling him that?" Leonard frowned. "He's quite tall… for a Japanese."

"Yeah? According to me, everyone who's able to get some sleep on this couch is a midget." Bret explained and gestured at said piece of furniture.

"Well, maybe we should take him to us sometimes." Leonard smirked, sat back down on the double-bed and propped his arms against it.

Bret looked his companion up and down with angry eyes. "Could you please stop saying those things?"

Leonard bit his lip to stop the smile. "Sorry. Yeah, and… that password is ‚Miko 98754'."

Bret turned at his friend in surprise. "You know his password? How long?"

"He changes it regularly… You just need to watch. Besides, it is not hard to guess." Leonard sighed lengthily, took off his pants and tossed them at the bed. Then he walked to the fridge and opened it. "How come you never forget about the beer?" he asked, not turning around to look at his companion.

"What?"

"There's just beer, nothing else."

"And what am I supposed to do with that? Who knows, maybe you and the Midget eat too much and drink too little…" Bret wondered aloud while turning the laptop on. "Take one for me, please." He called over his shoulder, but just to register that the request had been fulfilled already. "Thanks." He smirked, took the offered bottle and sipped the foam.

"You're welcome." Leonard bubbled contentedly and sat on the bed, close to Bret.

"What the hell is that?" the latter shouted suddenly.

"You see, Bret, this is called Japanese." Leonard explained, amused.

"Yes, I can see." Bret spat back. „But everything is… upside down…"

"No it's not." Leonard answered calmly and observed all of his friend's futile struggle to communicate with the device. Then he sipped at his beer and paused in thought. Should anything terrifying come in my way I can always make myself forget about it, even if just for a while. Every time I'm not alone. And particularly when I can tease you, dear Bret. In the end, he jumped to his feet, approached his friend and stood his bottle beside the laptop. "Let me have a look."

"Oh, Mr. Super-clever got a feeling that I'm not capable of writing a simple letter?" Bret fumed and stood up.

"You are, but not here." Leonard explained innocently and sat into the chair instead of the blonde.

"Well, then may I ask as to why did you advise me that in the first place?" the latter spat angrily.

"Please don't take it wrong, but there's nothing more amusing in the world than you fussing about something." Leonard added, smiling toothily. "Go on, you can borrow mine."

"And what do you think I'm doing?" Bret retorted and sat down on the other side of the huge bed with another laptop in his lap. "And what about this one, should I fear some unknown interface, too?" He asked as he leaned against the headboard.

"No, Bret, you really don't have to fear anything." Leonard reassured his friend and took another sip. "Speaking of laptops, maybe you should reconsider the option of buying a new one."

"And you should maybe reconsider minding your own business." Bret uttered as if he wasn't really there. "Wait… then what do you want with the Midget's computer?" He asked, sounding suspicious, after removing his shoes carefully.

"You haven't taken the shoes off, have you?" Leonard mumbled, the bottle still in his mouth.

"Too late. So, what do you want there?"

"Nothing. Just a… regular maintenance, right?" Leonard gave a vague explanation and fixated his look on the screen.

"Ya know, the Midget will get furious."

"Yes, I'm taking that into account." Leonard murmured absently as his fingers spread and ran across the keyboard.

"He won't talk to you for at least half a year." Bret warned and grinned.

"To me?" Leonard turned in the chair to peek over his shoulder. "I will officially deny everything and put all the blame on you, of course."

"Thanks, you're a real friend."

"I know." The dark-haired man smiled smugly and continued his work of destruction.

Again, Leonard simply could not help it. He just could not resist that temptation inside his mind. However, this was most probably one of the ways helping him cope with his personal demons. He bit his lower lip when realizing what he was about to do. But no matter how hard he tried, the itch somewhere above his conscience would always win and make him do anything just to forget his loneliness, to overcome the haunting, unknown past, and least but not last, to fight off the boredom as well.

It's been always the same. Every time he got an idea as to how to tease, provoke or trick someone; how to stir the still waters and cause some good mischief, then no matter what, he would obey his restless mind and set the roguish thoughts in motion. He could not explain that to himself. He was unable to answer the question why it felt so fascinating. And at the same time, he could not say no. Every time such thoughts popped up in his head, he just had to make it happen. And he was not sure which feeling was more exciting. Was it the realization that he was doing something forbidden? Or was it the thrill and anticipation before he got caught? (And yes, he was doing all that specifically for this reason.) Or was it the joy and amusement he felt while watching his victim's reactions? No, he truly was not certain which particular force was driving him. Perhaps a combination of everything he could name. However, one thing he knew for sure. He forgot about Bret and his unfulfilled dreams, their little argument and misunderstanding, the fearful confrontation with the mysterious voice, the utter failure with Elliot… He forgot about all that, he stopped perceiving the time course, and submerged himself completely in his "task". In the end, he glanced at the digits indicating the actual time in the corner of the screen and realized that it took him precisely 15 minutes.

"Bret?" He breathed out, relieved, and let a victorious smirk on his face.

"Hm..?" a long sigh came as an answer.

"I think I've just found out who I am."

"Surprise me." Snorted the blonde, clearly grinning, but not looking away from the laptop screen.

"Complete and utter bastard." Leonard answered simply, rocked on the chair and finished his beer.

---

ooOOOoo

Some of us will simply never change. Heimdall sighed silently and started thinking over the proper words he would use to explain everything he had just witnessed to his king.

---

ooOOOoo

Leonard cleared his throat nervously and scratched his head. One would think that removing the "upgrades" from Shiro's computer would take exactly the same amount of time as their installment. However, it all had a certain flaw. This work was not enjoyable at all. Leonard felt utterly bored and tired. He would rather take the last remaining piece of pizza, scuff in the bed's direction, plump on it and read something interesting. But what could be done? He had known all along that a certain sort of punishment was inevitable if he didn't want to lose his other friend's favor.

And besides, Leonard could not think of anything else to do anyway. It was dark outside already; both his companions were studying intensively and well, perhaps he should have been doing the same. Nah. He drummed his fingers on the table surface, then took the laptop in his lap, shifted slightly with the chair so he could rest his long legs on the desk and stretched his arms. Whatever…

Leonard swung in his chair in a demonstrative fashion and gave his other roommate an inquisitive stare. The latter was sitting cross-legged on the couch beside the table, hunched above his book, seemingly deep in thought.

"May I at least sit on the bed and finish it there? It feels quite uncomfortable here." Leonard decided to give it another try.

However, Shiro remained perfectly silent and undisturbed. Instead of showing any kind of reaction, he just stretched his slender body, cracked the knuckles and shook his head a little, so that his mahogany-dyed hair fell forward and partly covered his face. Then he made himself comfortable on his couch, propped one elbow on his knee, rested his head in the hand and returned to solving the problem. And as usual, he accompanied his thoughts with tapping the pencil against the book.

But Leonard was not willing to give in and swung in his chair again. This time a bit further, in order to get into Shiro's field of vision.

At that, the latter just sniffed (and Leonard hated that sound) and cleared his throat rather noisily. Then he looked up to glance at Leonard through the tresses of his hair with a faked surprise. "Oh, sorry. Have you wished for something particular?"

"Yes I have. Could you please stop that?"

"What exactly?" Shiro shook his head once more, his hair revealing his left eye as well, and gave Leonard his famous, perfect poker face.

"That idiotic tapping, sniffling and all the other disgusting noises."

"Right." Shiro replied, perfectly steady and calm. "Let me think…" he said, drumming the fingertips against his lips and spinning the pencil around the fingers of the other hand.

"Okay. Let's presume I would want to blow my nose." He began, looking sideways at Leonard. "However, this has two major flaws – first, we don't have any hankies left, and second – there's only the last, tiny bit of the toilet paper remaining. So, unless I decide to use, let's say…" Shiro turned to the table beside him, "…this kind of nonsense to clear my respiratory system…" he reached out to grab a copy of a scientific paper manuscript lying next to the tiny lamp.

"Hey!" Expressing his protest loudly, Leonard stopped his friend's intentions by dragging the manuscript promptly out of reach. "I haven't read it yet!" He scowled at Shiro. "Besides - you know, if you need something to blow your nose into, maybe when Bret's finished with the exercises he will gladly provide you with several pages of his study." Leonard added and smirked, glancing over his shoulder at his bright-haired roommate.

"Shut up and work." A deep, calm voice sounded from the bed.

"Well, I do. What about you, sweetheart?" Leonard teased, raising his eyebrows, waiting. When he did not receive any answer he decided to resume the mockery. "Have you finished at least the first one?" He tried and immediately rocked forward with his chair, ducking the textbook sent flying at him. Instead of his head, the book hit the tiny lamp on the corner of the table and fell elegantly into the cavity between the table and the couch.

Leonard waited for the silence to settle back in and cleared his throat. "I take this as a ‚no'."

A weak rustle sounded from the other side, followed by Shiro's silent cough. Leonard turned his head and saw his tiny friend's meaningful look and an even more meaningful raised hand that was holding a carpet tape.

"All right, I'm shutting up. Satisfied?" Leonard spat back in annoyance, rolled his eyes and stretched his lean body. Then he rubbed his weary face and had a brief look at the first page of the paper Garo assigned him to read. Actually… I promised I would read it today. He sighed, annoyed even more. He should go through the abstract at least, he persuaded himself in the end, reached out for the overthrown lamp and moved the paper into the light.

"Einstein-Rosen Bridge: Cassimir effect-stabilization approach proved plausible." Said the title. Interesting, Leonard mused and shifted his look to the title of the journal in which the paper was supposed to be published. Astrophysical Journal? He snorted internally. You should have aimed for Nature or Science. He sighed, slightly amused, and checked the authors. Foster J., Tanaka S., Sharma T., Selvig E. ...Such a pity. Leonard thought upon reading the names, Don't know any of you, guys.

"You really think it's a nonsense?" Leonard asked after a moment, turned the first page and glanced at Shiro. "I admit the title sounds quite visionary, but…"

"At least it's rather strange. Just have a look at the methods and you'll see." The Japanese mumbled in response.

"Mhm." Leonard frowned and went through several charts. "To be honest I can't say I'm in the mood for digging it too deep." He decided eventually, leaned back and gave his friend a pretty smile. "Well, but… something's telling me you already have..?"

At that, Shiro stopped biting at the pencil end and raised his look. "And?"

"Nah! Come on, Shiro-san!" Leonard pleaded sweetly. "Just look into my sad eyes."

The Japanese on the couch scratched the back of his head with the pencil. "Aww." He said, tilting his head to the side. „How tragic. Makes me wanna burst in tears."

"Shiro-kun!"

"You know what to do." The addressed answered strictly and digging his gaze back into his book, he just pointed silently at his laptop. "When you've finished, we may discuss the option of me telling you what's going on in that paper."

"No worries, I'll be finished in no time." Leonard sighed, all but resigned. "But before I do, you may at least show some respect to what I've done."

Shiro sighed, seemingly exhausted by the nowhere-leading conversation. "Look," he began and cleared his throat slightly, "when I switch my laptop on, I want it to communicate with me and do exactly what I tell the thing to do. What I really do not need the thing to do is accusing me of stealing something and telling me that it knows." He turned to give Leonard a menacing stare. "And whenever I open a file, I want it to be that exact file, and not a picture of Bender Rodriguez telling me to exterminate the human race!"

"You sure?" Leonard tried, looking at the screen again. "Sometimes I think it's a pretty good idea." He mumbled more or less to himself.

"Oh yes, I am pretty sure." The final answer sounded.

"But you see," Leonard replied, full of well-pretended sorrow, "I thought you like Bender. In fact, all I wanted was to make you happy, you know."

Shiro grinned. "Please don't cry, my friend. I truly appreciate your efforts, it's just… The wrong timing, perhaps? Yes. Yes, that's it."

"Yeah, I've feared that form the start." Leonard sighed and tossed the paper manuscript onto the table desk. "But worry not." He smirked. "I shall give it a proper try next time." And same goes to you, Mr. Foster. Or Miss?

---

ooOOOoo

"Why haven't you told my father first, Heimdall?"

The person in question paused in thought and hesitated for a while. He grasped the hilt of his sword tightly and searched his mind for the proper answer. „I know the state your father is in very well. Hence I just wanted to know your opinion before addressing him directly." he stated finally, his deep voice remaining calm. His golden eyes were fixated on the snowy fields of Jotunheim again. However, his thoughts were filled with the images of the unexpected events he had just seen in the world of mortals. And at the same time, he was well aware of the nervousness of his younger master, Prince Thor, who was standing next to him right now.

"Moreover, since the unfortunate Bifrost-event you were the one to see me the most often." Heimdall pointed out. "Although we both know how much water has passed under my feet since your last visit here, I still…"

"Heimdall, please." Thor cut the Guardian off.

"I know what you want to ask." Said Heimdall and paused for a second. "It is not in my intention to give excuses for my inadvertence. I regret deeply that I could not inform you about your brother's whereabouts earlier. However, be assured that I laid my gaze upon each and every one of the Nine Realms in order to possibly find him. Until I've been given another task."

"I know, Heimdall. And I did not want to accuse you of anything." Thor sighed and unmoving, he observed the falling water masses below. "I just don't understand… Is it possible at all? How could have Loki spent so much time on Midgard without us noticing?" He shook his head in confusion. "He hates that realm. Now more than ever. And I… I couldn't even imagine what would possibly happen if he returned there."

"This is true." Heimdall agreed. "However, I daresay that the main reason why Prince Loki's presence amongst the mortals escaped our notice is very simple." He said and after a short pause he could feel the questioning stare on him, so he continued. "According to all I have witnessed, Prince Loki simply believes he is a mortal himself."

Silence. And then – a chuckle. No. A laugh. Prince Thor of Asgard let out a short, but the more cordial laugh. He brushed one hand across his forehead, then rubbed his cheeks and turned to his companion once again. "That's… Who would ever have guessed…" He trailed off, smiling.

"Being the Gatekeeper of Asgard has taught me one thing." Heimdall afforded himself a small smile as well. "At times, the branches of the World Tree tend to tangle in the most unexpected ways."

"Nicely expressed." Thor admitted and raised his head to look at the glittering stars above. "It fits the situation so much it almost hurts. But tell me," he said, turning his sight back to Heimdall, "How could that happen? Has Loki forgotten who he is?"

"It does seem so. But I would be careful naming it as a mere memory loss. It appears to me that there is something more behind it, but I am afraid there is only a little evidence for me to latch on for now."

"And why do you assume it's not a regular memory loss?" Thor asked and creased his forehead.

"I doubt that a simple amnesia would strike someone like Prince Loki in such a strong and thorough manner. Not to mention that the duration of the memory loss is simply too long. Even if being an after-effect of a serious injury, the amnesia would subside as soon as the body would heal." Heimdall answered calmly. "I can say that the complete and permanent memory loss is absolutely excluded when it comes to Asgardians."

"So, is there at least a hint of what the real cause may be?"

"I cannot find anyone within the world of mortals capable of manipulating with Prince Loki's memory in any way. Except for Prince Loki."

Thor frowned deeply. "Are you implying he inflicted that to himself?"

"Again, I must stress out that it is just my speculation. I am merely assuming from the little I have seen. But whatever it may be, it must be very strong. Even after having seen his true form, your brother still could not recall anything. And one would definitely expect the memories to come back after a terrifying and strong impulse such as watching a mortal's hands turn into a Frost Giant's."

"You mean that Loki saw..?"

"His hands. His true hands." Heimdall nodded just a fraction, his eyes constantly fixated on the starry space before them. "His desperate cries called me in."

Thor seethed with rage and clenched his hands into fists. "I should have been there." He closed his eyes for a second and then turned to Heimdall with another question. "Why that happened, Heimdall? How come that my brother could see his true form all of a sudden?"

"I can't tell."

Thor breathed out and looked down to the abyss below. "My father is truly growing old and tired each day. His power is getting too weak to keep my brother's Jotun form hidden... This is it. It must be."

"His power?" Heimdall asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"What do you mean, my friend?"

"I think I am not the right one with whom you should discuss this topic."

"But my father won't talk to me and you know that very well! Please, tell me everything you know!"

And Heimdall fell silent for a while, considering the words he was about to say. Then he began in a low but steady voice. "May I ask you a question, my lord?"

"Go on."

"Why do you think your brother's true appearance did not return when your father fell into Odinsleep?"

Silence.

"The answer is simple." Heimdall resumed calmly, his voice strangely comforting. "It is not and it has never been the power of Odin that kept the true origin and look of Prince Loki in secret. It has been something else entirely. Right from the start, through all the years and ages, and despite everything that happened recently, your father has loved Prince Loki as his own son. This is the true cause. And it will last, should your father grow old, weak, or even fall into Odinsleep."

"Then it means that…"

"No, I am fairly sure that this has nothing to do with your father's lack of love for Prince Loki."

"So what is it, then?"

"As I implied before, I cannot give anything reliable. For I have seen…" Heimdall suddenly stopped, almost as if intending to think over his next words carefully. "I have seen too little." He said attentively and resisted the urge to give Prince Thor a quick, meaningful glance.

In that moment, a tense silence embraced the two companions standing at the end of the shattered Bridge.

"Heimdall." Thor began. "What do you consider me?" he asked, his tone guarded.

"I regard you as the one and rightful heir of the Throne of Asgard and my lord." Heimdall stated firmly and for the first time in their conversation, turned to look at Thor directly. "And it is an honor for me to serve you and fulfill your wishes." A short pause. "All of them." He added, somewhat quieter and bowed his head slightly.

At that, Thor's lip twisted in a mischievous grin. "Tell me, my friend," he began, little long-winded, and laid a hand on Heimdall's armored shoulder. "You must have been watching my little brother's actions quite closely when he had been still amongst us, have you not?"

"I dare express my confusion and embarrassment at your question, my lord."

Thor laughed. "Well, well… It just appears to me that you like to play a bit with words and their meanings. Quite the same as my dear brother."

"I do use each opportunity to improve my dialogue skills, my lord. I have to since I am not given many."

"Very well." Thor concluded then and looked in the royal palace direction. He bit on his forefinger and thought for a moment. Then he turned back to the Guardian. "I have no intentions to measure my dialogue skills with those of my brother or yours. And so, I just have to ask you again – you know the task you have been assigned to, do you?"

"I was told to watch the Jotuns, my lord."

"Exactly, my friend! Very good. This is very important." Thor nodded in agreement and put on a slightly exaggerated, strict expression. Then he raised his index finger to emphasize his words. "You must watch them all. Please do not miss any single one of their kind." He ordered, then smiled softly and turned to look at the stars. "Whatever they may look like." He added quietly.

"I shall do as you wish, my lord." Said Heimdall, brought his right arm to his chest and bowed his head.

"I'm glad you understand." Thor grinned and patted the Gatekeeper's shoulder. Then he looked down. "Tell me now, Heimdall. What is he doing there?"

"He is a student." A simple answer came.

"He is a what?" Thor frowned in disbelief. "What can Loki possibly learn from the mortals?"

"It sounds very surprising, indeed. But he appears to be a student of a very prestigious school."

At that, Thor just tilted his head back, folded his arms in front of him and laughed. "See my little brother? Just wait, if you return I'll remind you of this every single day." He inhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his bright hair. "But actually… He does exactly the same as he always did here, yes?"

"Indeed."

"Well and… Does he get on with the others?"

"Yes he does, I would say." Heimdall replied. "It appears he shares his dwelling with two other mortals, which he considers his friends. Especially one of them. Perhaps you would care to know…" Heimdall implied, his tone mysterious, and smiled.

"Know what?" Thor insisted eagerly.

"That this particular human looks strikingly similar to you, my lord."

Thor blinked, astounded. "To me?" He uttered. "You said his close friend is similar to me?"

"Apart from lowly manners and a vulgar language, yes." Heimdall explained, sounding somewhat apologetic.

Thor chuckled quietly. "I'd like to see him."

Heimdall just laughed lightly in reply. "Perhaps one day you will."

"Perhaps." Thor echoed. "Tell me, what is Loki doing right now?" He asked again.

"He is reading a book. No, he was." Heimdall answered. "He must have fallen asleep while learning."

"Old habits die hard, right, brother?" Thor sighed silently. Then he looked at the stars again and his smile weakened. He closed his eyes and got down on his knees. In that moment, Heimdall sensed the wind blow, calming and comforting. A thunder came thrumming from the distance, and the great waterfalls below stirred and rippled.

But Heimdall remained calm. He knew that this all was just another way the eldest Prince of Asgard expressed his emotions.

"I am with you, Loki." Thor whispered when he opened his eyes. "I always will. I promise."

---

ooOOOoo

Leonard rubbed his hands nervously and sat down in his row. For some reason, the next row was too distant and low, so he was forced to bend forward and almost lie down on the desk in order to write on the blank sheet paper he had been provided with.

"Well then, my dear colleagues, each one of you have received the same test, one blank sheet of paper and a pencil. It's 8 o'clock right now, so I believe we may begin. Good luck to everyone." Said Professor Hudson in a rather croaking voice and Leonard turned around the test instructions.

And right the first problem was not making any sense at all. So be it. Let's try the second one. Leonard thought but even if he turned the page several times, searched the paper thoroughly from both sides… He could not find any problem number two. The problem number two was clearly missing. There was the number three instead. A very short one, but Leonard just could not understand the meaning of that simple question. All right, don't panic, just move back to the first one. He told himself and took the given pencil and the blank sheet of paper and started writing down the questions of the first task.

However, there was not a single letter visible on the paper. Leonard viewed his pencil intently and found out that it was brand new; it had not been even sharpened yet. How come? Leonard suddenly felt that at least 10 minutes out of the 40 reserved had passed already. So he did not hesitate any further and raised his hand. No reaction. "Professor?" Nothing again. "Professor Hudson, please?"

"Any problem, Mr. Wednesday? Something's not clear?"

"No, it's just… My pencil."

"What's wrong with your pencil?"

"Well, it wouldn't write."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes! It is not even sharpened!"

"I beg your pardon?" Professor Hudson squeaked.

"I'm telling you. It. Is. Not. Sharpened."

"Mr. Wednesday, you have been given exactly the same pencil as everyone else in this lecture room."

Feeling like going mad, Leonard looked around the full lecture room furiously. Everybody seemed to be writing and filling in the test quite happily. And so fast… Some of his colleagues appeared to have the whole page written all over. How is that possible?

"Mr. Hudson, I see everyone is writing but my pencil was simply not sharpened, so I can't use it to write anything." Leonard protested.

Professor Hudson sighed, seemingly annoyed, fluttered the newspaper in his hands and folded it in his lap. "Mr. Wednesday, aren't you possibly implying that you have missed my yesterday's email where I stressed out that every student should bring the pencil sharpener?" croaked the Professor and popped his eyes at Leonard. "You haven't read that email, have you? And what have you done instead, Mr. Wednesday? Come on, tell me! And hurry up, you have only 15 minutes left!"

"What?" Leonard shouted, horrified. "We… but we've just started!"

"Mr. Wednesday, if you don't intend to continue the test, be so kind and leave."

"Fine!" Leonard spat back fiercely, threw away the pencil and got ready to get up. But he could not. It simply was not possible.

"What's the matter, Mr. Wednesday? What are you waiting for?"

"I'm trying..!" Leonard objected and kept on yanking desperately in futile attempts to unglue at least one foot from the floor.

Professor Hudson tossed away the newspaper, jumped to his feet and ran up towards Leonard. "Leonard Wednesday, if you won't leave now…" he rasped and popped his eyes even more. Watching this, Leonard held onto the desk tightly and struggled to tear himself away from the bench, or just simply to move a little bit. But his legs appeared to having been rooted to the ground. In the meantime, Professor Hudson approached him, grabbed the test furiously and ripped it apart. The tearing sound was terrifying; and for some reason very noisy as well. Leonard kept on watching it all with sheer disbelief. "Stop it, please, I'm trying!" he cried out, yanked once more…

...

And woke up.

"What's up?" Bret murmured with a surprised, a bit angered and sleepy expression. It seemed like he had just woken up himself – his hair were stuck all over his face and there were creased papers all over Bret's half of the double-bed.

"Hudson." Leonard uttered after a moment and looked around in confusion, frowning.

"Hudson what..?"

"He wanted us to bring the pencil-sharpeners. I should have brought one…" Leonard went on, despite his words weren't making any sense to him. As a result, he knitted his brows together in confusion and scratched at his temple.

"Yeah?" Bret chuckled hoarsely and unfolded one of the crumpled papers with his exercises. "Well if it's enough to get the points and pass that exam, then I'm perfectly ok with it. I have two sharpeners." The blonde pointed out, raising two fingers to stress the information out and arched his eyebrows. "And in case it's not enough…" he went on, collecting the rest of creased papers, "we can snatch that big one with the handle from Shiro's table. Ya know, as a bonus." He stopped and viewed the solved problems on the piece of paper. "I hope it's gonna work because otherwise I'm finished. Oh, and it seems like you ripped apart a page in your textbook." He added matter-of-factly, gesturing vaguely at the said textbook, which happened to be the one Leonard had fallen asleep on.

"Oh crap! Not again." Leonard mumbled and looked at the rip in the page. Eventually, he turned the page and frowned. "I haven't even got half-way through that chapter. And I intended to finish it tonight." He explained and went through several following pages briefly. But then he suddenly stopped, propped himself on his elbows and listened to the music for a moment. "This is not quite motivating, is it?" he smirked at the sound of the live performance of "Another Brick in the Wall".

"Hm. For the diligent students? Hardly." Bret let out a tired laugh. "But one thing's for sure – Rog might have a point there. We should let it go and get some sleep."

"Sounds reasonable." Leonard agreed, snapped the textbook shut and threw it away. "What about you?" he turned to look at his blonde companion. "Have you solved everything?"

"Yeah." Bret yawned. "But it takes me too long… tomorrow's gonna be tough."

"We'll think about something." Said Leonard and paused in thought. "I dreamed that there was just one variant of the test."

"Hmf." Bret snorted. "That would be great. But you forget that Hudson will never let me sit behind you."

"Of course he won't. But we can still make a deal with someone else and you can sit behind them."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Could you two just shut up?" Shiro rasped from the couch. Leonard peeked over his shoulder to see his little colleague checking on the cell phone.

"Do you oafs realize it's 2:30am?" The Japanese protested. „We've only four fucking hours left to sleep."

"Then be so kind, turn around and shut the fuck up." Bret uttered tiredly and switched off the lamp on his nightstand.

"You first!" Shiro spat back angrily. "Oh, and I think you've dropped some of your belongings here."

"What?" Bret muttered, almost asleep.

Leonard sneaked closer, leaned over and whispered. "I think your textbook is going to arrive at any moment."

"Whatever." Bret mumbled in response. "Ouch!" he cried out just a second later.

"Yeah. This one." Leonard snickered.

Bret huffed something incoherent and after several moments of puffing he threw the textbook away. "Good night." He barked.

"That's all?" Leonard asked in a teasing tone, leaning in a bit.

"Touch me and you're dead." Bret mumbled, gathering his last power reserves to do so.

Leonard smiled contentedly, turned to the window and covered himself. "Good night." He whispered and turned off his own tiny lamp, too.

And everything turned dark. Only the street lamps enlightened the room partly. The shadows were running around, chased by the lights of the passing cars.

After a while of tossing and turning, Leonard was glad to find a comfortable position, but right after that he realized another problem. He stopped feeling sleepy. His eyes would not close and rest, no matter what. He watched the almost unnoticeable waving of the curtain, then sighed deeply and turned on his back.

Alone.

He was alone once again, just with his restless, unpredictable thoughts. And that was not good. He ran a sweaty palm across his face and made his eyelids slide shut. He rubbed his closed eyes using the thumb and forefinger.

The random playback picked up "Coming Back to Life". Leonard reopened his eyes and took a look outside the window. He rested the wrist of his hand on his forehead, let out a long breath and just listened. And to his surprise, a few raindrops drummed on the windowpane. He smiled. It was almost like someone wished to help him fall asleep.

It's raining. He sighed, somewhat relieved, and turned to the side. Then he folded the right arm under his head and dragged the blanket to his chin with the left hand.

He loved falling asleep while it was raining outside. It was one of the few things that were able to comfort him, make him feel relaxed. Perhaps I should move to a country with often rains. He mused. But then he desired to breathe some fresh air. So he got up, walked slowly to the window and opened it. He moved the curtain aside and looked outside, resting his elbows on the apron. At first it seemed to be just a quick shower, but then a thunder hummed from the distance and the rain got heavier.

The thundering sound was strangely muted. It sounded almost… comforting. Leonard took in the cool, rain-scented air, leaned his head against the window frame and reached out his right arm. A tender shower of raindrops stroked his skin, washing it gently. And at that moment, Leonard realized it felt good to him. Even if both of his friends were fast asleep, not having a slightest idea about the rain and thundering; for some unknown reason he did not feel alone anymore. He smiled softly and let the wet arm rest on the apron for a while.

The life isn't that bad after all. Maybe. He told himself in the end and looked up to the dark, clouded sky.

---

ooOOOoo

Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted
Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime

I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life

(Pink Floyd; Coming Back to Life)

---

Now, I apologize if I made someone angry about the scientific paper title. It was the best I could come up with after as much reasearch as I have done for wormholes ;)

Please review and let me know if you spotted any mistakes in English.