Chapter 7

Taylor found himself lying in bed worrying about Drake. He knew it wasn't unusual for him to have nightmares, after all he had gone through a pretty traumatic experience at a pretty crucial time in his development and no matter how comfortable he was around Taylor those fears and insecurities he had hadn't gone away. So it was really no surprise that Drake was nightmare prone, which was enough to worry Taylor under normal circumstances. But what really had Taylor worried was the fact Drake couldn't remember this particular nightmare. He'd never had any problem with remembering every single detail of them in the past. And what's more, for someone who'd woken up screaming, he'd calmed down way too quickly, almost as though it had never happened at all.

The thought made Taylor almost uncomfortable, because it led into far too many questions for his liking. For a start if Drake wasn't having a nightmare why did he wake up screaming? And for a second if he wasn't the one having the nightmare then who was? Taylor knew dream sharing was possible, after all his parents were more than proof of that, but he also knew it required a strong telepathic connection and usually you were still able to remember it afterwards so…

'Hey Tay,' his Dad suddenly pushed his door open, clearly not concerned with whether or not he'd disturbed him, 'I wanted to see how you were doing.'

'I'm worried about Drake,' he stared vacantly up at the ceiling, 'there was something about the nightmare he had that just doesn't make any sense.'

For a long while his Dad was silent, forcing Taylor's gaze towards him. There was a strangely pained look on his face which suggested something was wrong.

'Are you okay?'

Still his Dad remained silent. Feeling more than a little worried, Taylor was just about to get up and move towards him, when his Dad let out a heavy sigh.

'I know its dark in here, but I can still tell you're not signing anything right now. You're also not using your telepathy to send anything to me and maybe you're still not completely comfortable doing that, but I need you to at least try Taylor, so please try.'

'What do you mean? I don't need to use telepathy to talk to you,' Taylor gawked at him, his own fears coming to a head, 'I'm talking to you normally right now.'

'I'm sorry if I'm pushing the point here Tay; I know you can't help this muteness, but its getting very lonely without the real, talkative you.'

'But I am talking.'

'I know this is hard on you too,' his Dad sighed again as he leant against the doorframe, 'it's hard on everybody. I just wish there was something we could do.'

'But you don't need to do anything, because I am talking!'

'Goodnight Tay,' his father turned to leave, 'try to get some sleep.'

At that his Dad left and Taylor couldn't help but stare at his now closed door in shock. He knew he'd half suspected Drake was the only one who could hear him, but he'd never honestly believed it was true. And now he discovered it was, he had no idea what it meant. Getting up out of bed he made his way towards his bedroom door. Pushing it open he then went out into the hall and down towards CiCi's room.

'Dad,' he announced himself as clearly as possible as he opened the door, 'listen to me, I can talk. It's just that Drake's the only one who can hear me right now.'

'What do you want Tay,' his Dad kept his voice low, clearly anxious about waking the sleeping girl.

'To try and get you to understand I can talk. I know you're probably thinking Drake's gone mad, but he hasn't. He really can hear me.'

'Tay, if there's something you want and you're not going to tell me telepathically, can't you write it down or something so I can get your Parto to read it to me later.'

'No,' he shook his head, 'I don't want to have to write it down; I want you to understand me. I can talk, don't you get that?'

'Tay please,' his Dad sighed, 'tonight's been difficult enough without you being stubborn. I know you want to get things across in your own way, but I'm too tired to play games with you. Just write it down for me. Or better yet use your telepathy.'

'Don't you get it,' he gestured furiously, 'I don't need to write it down, because I can talk. I can talk, you just can't hear me.'

Taylor was starting to wonder why he was so insistent on trying to get his message through like this. After all, it was becoming more and more apparent his father wasn't going to be able to hear him anytime soon. But something in him told him that wasn't the point. The point was that he'd somehow managed to get his voice back and no one could hear him. It felt as though someone was playing sick games with him and he had little doubt as to who it was.

'Can't this wait till morning Tay,' his Dad sighed again, 'I'm just too tired for this now.'

'I know you are,' Taylor leant his head back despairingly, 'and I'm sorry, but you have to know how frustrating this is for me. Ni's given me my voice back and only Drake can hear it. I know he's done this to make you all think Drake is mad, but Drake's not crazy, because he can hear me. I have to get you to understand that. I have to.'

'Maybe you should go back to bed Tay and try this again when I'm a little more alert.'

'I won't be able to sleep unless I get you to understand. I have to get you to understand, don't you see that?'

'Tay…' his Dad sighed despairingly, clearly unable to think of anything more to say.

Leaning his head back again in frustration, Taylor ran his fingers through his hair. What was the point of having a voice only one other person could hear? Why on earth would Ni want to prove Drake mad? What was the point of that?

'Dad I have to get you to understand me,' Taylor tried one last time. 'Its not that I can't talk, it's that you can't hear me. But Drake can. He's not mad, I swear to you he's not going crazy, but Ni's trying to make it seem as though he is. I think that was the point of his nightmare tonight, to make you and Parto doubt him. But I swear on my life he's not crazy.'

For a long while his Dad was silent. Everything in Taylor was willing his father to understand his message, even if he couldn't hear it. But as the silence dragged on, the likelihood of his Dad understanding it wavered into nothing.

'Taylor, I'm sorry, I don't know what it is you want. Please, go to bed.'