A/N

You might want to listen to Baboushka by David Garrett at the end of this chapter. Are we feeling sorry for Hope yet? Please do let me know!

Thank you for your reviews, saves and follows!

The first thing Hope noticed when she stepped into the Dreaming, was that she was nowhere near the large entrance of the palace that was guarded by the three gatekeepers. She couldn't even see the palace, let alone the mighty wyvern, hippogriff and griffin. There was no light banter that signalled their recognition or acknowledgment of her arrival.

Instead, she was drawn, in a way, down a road she did not remember, but the dream forces guided her as if recognising her purpose.

The cracked dirt road gave way to black sand that felt warm and soft like velvet beneath her bare feet. A gentle breeze carrying the scent of brine and distant blooms hit her nostrils and teased her hair..

It was a strange place that opened up into a beach. One that stretched out endlessly, its ebony sparkling shores meeting the shimmering dark waters that glimmered under a distant sun. If this strange view was not enough to convey this was no regular beach, the silence underscored this. Here there were no quickly scuttling crabs or crying seagulls soaring on the coastal winds. Here there was only the rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves creating a soothing song.

When she saw a lone figure standing not very far from the waters, regal, dressed in all black, she knew exactly who had summoned her. And it filled her with trepidation because here he always appeared so distant from her humanity. The day before, when–out of the blue–he'd looked her up, he'd at least looked approachable.

But now…

She noticed he was gazing intently at something right in front of him. Hope couldn't say what it was because its formless shape kept shifting and altering. There was an intensity in his eyes, like pools of starlight reflecting centuries upon centuries of wisdom and enigma.

Squaring her shoulders, Hope took a deep breath, and for some reason she thought back to the graphic novel that now bore his handwritten notes. Her heart started beating just a bit faster.

Morpheus, lost in deep contemplation, finally acknowledged her with a slight turn of his head. His eyes shifted to look–or appear–more human. There was an unfamiliar warmth kindled in them and a rare smile delicately touched his lips.

"Hope, you are welcome here," he spoke, his words carried on a subtle breeze.

"Great. Where is here?"

"This is the Nightshore Beach, or simply 'The Shore'. This is where I create dreams and nightmares alike."

"Oh."

Bit lame, but she had literally no idea why he'd brought her here.

"There's something I wish to discuss with you." As usual his entire demeanour was solemn and, well, uptight. Only now there was something a little more fragile in his eyes as well.

She didn't know why she knew that as she hardly even knew him. But she did.

Her heart quickened a little.

"After our conversation of yesterday, I have been reflecting on my friendship with Hob Gadling," he confessed. Though his voice was steady, Hope detected a hint of hesitation. "I have decided to follow your advice and not restrict our friendship to a single meeting per century. Therefore, I wish to reveal my true nature to him, and invite him to the Dreaming."

Whatever she'd expected, that was not it!

Her breath caught in her throat when understanding sunk in, of the weight of those words.

The Lord of Dreams and the plethora of other personas he liked to present himself as–known for his aloofness, his serious and rigid disposition, and enigmatic nature–was seriously considering revealing himself… to a mortal friend? Hob Gadling must be some friend. When he could hardly even be polite to her.

She reminded herself that was actually a good thing.

To avoid having to answer him just yet, Hope crossed the last bit of distance until she stood beside him. A gentle breeze played with her hair, managed to wrench free a wilful strand of hair from her loose ponytail.

"Hob obviously already knows that my existence doesn't strictly fall within the bounds of the human realm. I do not think he knows who I am… or what I am. And though he has lived for centuries now, the concept of friendship with an Endless is very much uncharted territory. For us both. Pulling him into the Dreaming might unsettle him."

Don't get angry, she told herself. Don't get angry. But, really… Now he could suddenly show concern for a mortal? Then she thought back to the cinema room he'd created for her. The notes he'd added to her graphic novel. And she relaxed.

Besides, it didn't matter. Dee was her friend, he could be Hob's friend. Because he was nothing to her. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. Over and over and over. It was exhausting. One day it just had be true.

She didn't know whether to look forward to that day with enthusiasm or bleakness.

As the waves gently kissed the shore, Hope gave Morpheus the chance to continue. "I believe that, were he to witness the friendship that exists between you and my sister, he might feel… more at ease. With your permission, I would like you and my sister to be present when I bring Hob into the Dreaming."

"If you think that will help, sure. Besides, I wouldn't mind meeting a man who's lived for centuries!"

Plus, it might help distract her mind from noticing certain things she didn't particularly care to notice at all…

"Why? You already know someone who's lived even longer."

… like how jittery he managed to make her feel when he was completely oblivious to the way he invaded her personal space. Much like he was doing now. She'd not even noticed him sidling closer to her. And again it made her feel a bit light-headed.

"You don't count," she managed with a weak smile. "You are an Endless. He's– he used to be… a mortal." She gave a slight turn of her head so she was looking over the waters again, instead of her vision being filled with him.

"There's something I would like to show you, for your approval."

He was standing so close she could feel his breath tickling her ear. Why was he always doing this? Couldn't he tell how much his nearness unnerved her? Even now she could feel the force of his gaze on her, compelling her to look at him. But each time she had done so far, his eyes boring into hers had felt crushing.

Ignore him. He is not here. He's not compelling you to look at him with those damned eyes of his. He is not here and even if he was, he's not looking.

But he was there. Silent. Tense. Compelling.
She could not bear it, and she caved. She looked up at him.

Suddenly it became very difficult to breath.
"Oh?"

"Will you not look at what I've created?"

His voice was husky. And too intimate.

Only allowing herself to follow the line of his arm, and his hand gesturing at something, Hope carefully found a way to avoid eye-contact again.

The air shifted in front of her eyes, and out of that shimmering haze, a magnificent creature materialised It… looked like a fennec fox, only much larger, almost the size of a small pony.

Its pristine white fur was soft and fluffy, and reminded her of freshly fallen snow. But, what caught her attention the most were its enormous white-feathered wings. And to her astonishment, it wore a saddle upon its back.

It felt as if her breath was snatched straight from her lungs. And, when she stretched out a longing hand, the creature moved closer with a gentle purr and pressed its delicate nose against her palm. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotion, Hope couldn't help but emit a sound that was a blend of laughter and tears. The creature responded by wiggling its fluffy ears.

"It still needs a name," Morpheus told her gently.

"A name?" Hope parroted. Quite literally parroted, because her voice was little more than a dry squawk. Because, it occurred to her then, that Morpheus had created this… this astounding creature! She wondered what it was like to be able to do something like that.

"You can give it its name, if you would like."

Hope closed her eyes. Why did he have to be so wonderful, sometimes? It was so much easier for her if he wasn't. Something between this and what he'd been like at first. That would be nice.

"How about Finn? It reminds me of a fennec fox," she finally said.

"Finn…" Morpheus quietly repeated the name, testing it. "It's a good name, Hope. Do you think Emily Wilson will like Finn?"

He might as well have punched her in the gut. His words had about the same effect.

She couldn't stand it any longer and Hope felt her heart kicking painfully against her ribs, like some trapped animal. Every glance, every word from him conspired against her. Though she thought she knew what was happening, she did not want to think about it, contemplate it or even acknowledge it.

All she wanted was to get away. From him.

Desperately, she sought an excuse, any excuse, to escape his presence. Her mind raced, concocting something so feeble it barely masked her true feelings. "I... I need to check on something back at the palace," she stammered, her voice thick in her throat. "It's important, urgent."

Without waiting for an answer, Hope turned away from him and she ran, her steps quickening with each bit of distance she managed to put between them. Each stride felt heavy with the weight of her conflicted emotions.

Like him. Don't like him. Despise him. Adore him. Hate him. Lo–

No!

She navigated the winding paths of the Dreaming, her mind in chaos as she desperately tried to regain her composure. It twisted and shifted around her, an ever-changing landscape of ethereal beauty. Exotic flowers bloomed and wilted in a dance of vibrant colours, while cascades of starlight waterfalls whispered secrets in hushed tones. But Hope did not stop to admire the sights that surrounded her. Her focus was on one thing and one thing alone, escaping the intoxicating presence of Morpheus.

She hurried past grand archways adorned with intricate carvings.

The air itself seemed to vibrate with an electric charge, amplifying her own inner turmoil.

Then she realised she was ploughing headlong into the Dreaming without thought or reason.

"Take me back to the palace," she begged. "Take me back to the palace."

Again the Dreaming shifted and the palace loomed into view. Another step and she was right at the gates. Her knees buckled with exhaustion and her breath came in ragged gasps.

"Inside," she managed to say. "Please, just let me inside."

For once, the gatekeepers abstained from their usual banter.

"You may enter, Hope," the griffin said. "I will apprise Lucienne of your arrival."

Hope hurried inside and the mere thought of her bedroom had her stumbling into it until she collapsed onto her bed. It was the first time she actually had need for it.

Because, even though she didn't need a bed here, Morpheus had created a bedroom for her anyway. It were those kind of things he just did without even thinking about them that could really get to her. Like that stupid, wonderful cinema room.

For the first time after Leila's death, she experienced what it was like to have others look after her needs, care for them even. Not that Dee had ever failed her as a friend, but for a long time their friendship had comprised only of one meeting a year.

This? She didn't know how to handle this.

It was as though a huge splinter had lodged itself deep into her skin and Morpheus was relentlessly pulling it out and it hurt! Perhaps the hurt came from her inability to simply let him remove it; she was struggling too much, trying–for some fucked up reason–to hold on to that hurtful splinter because she'd gotten used to the pain.

Because, when that splinter was out. Then what? Would he gently dress the wound, or would he walk away and let her deal with the gaping hole herself?

Well, at least she'd gotten her wish. She'd wanted him to be kinder after all.

Now that he was, she wished she'd not seen it at all, because it turned out his kindness hurt her more than his contempt.

Hope dragged one of the many pillows towards her and clutched it tightly to her chest. She noted that a fire was playfully dancing in the fireplace and, without looking to confirm, she knew that a vase with a lush flower bouquet was sat on the table. And she knew there would be a pitcher with freshly home-made lemonade glistening there too. The taste differed each time, probably dependant on the dreamer who produced it, but it was always delightful.

"Hope! The griffin warned me you'd arrived and you seemed upset. Is something the matter? You do look upset. There wasn't… there wasn't a fight between you two? I thought things were going so well lately?"

"There was no fight." Hope noticed how tired and listless her voice sounded, so it was no surprise to see how Lucienne gave her a sharp look. "He was very kind," she quickly added.

"He was very kind," her friend repeated in a derisive tone. "And that's why you are now close to tears? What did–" Lucienne abruptly clamped her jaw shut. Shame. Hope was quite sure her friend had been about to say something highly inappropriate about his Royal Pain in the Arse. She could have used that. "What did Lord Morpheus say, Hope? Or, what did he do?"

Poor Morpheus. He'd done nothing except be absolutely wonderful this time, and still he was being blamed for her overwhelmingly tumultuous emotional condition.

Swing little pendulum. Swing some more.

"Like I said, Lucienne, he was very kind. I'm just very tired."

"Well, is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you?"

The kindness and care Hope had always yearned for, felt like a strike with a cat o' nine tails against her raw nerve endings.

And suddenly she knew what she wanted. What she needed. To strengthen and resolve herself.

She'd been neglecting her violin. Her music would surely carry her through this storm.

"I want to return to the waking world," she said, just as a certain small, black feathered friend soared into her room and landed near her on the bed.

"Are you alright? The boss… he asked me to check on you."

Giving him a weak smile, she gently stroked the top of his head with a finger. "Hi Matthew. I'm fine. I will be fine. I just need to cut this visit short and return to the waking world. And, again, I'm sorry I threatened to throw a book at you."

He gave a quiet encouraging little caw. "And again, it's okay. I think I understand where that came from."

She highly doubted that, but she nodded her head anyway.

"So, eh, I can just tell him that you're… Oh, wait, never mind… I can feel him in the back of my mind looking in now. I'm not sure I will ever get used to that feeling."

With a roll of her eyes, Hope pushed herself upright. "I'm fine, Morpheus, no need to spy on me," she said, looking at Matthew. "I would like to cut this visit short though and, maybe, return again tomorrow evening?"

There was a soft rushing sound and a cold breeze briefly wafted through the room. And suddenly he was standing in their midst. His eyes were solely on Hope. When he quietly said, "Leave us," both Lucienne and Matthew departed instantly.

"You didn't have to come all the way back here to check on me. I am fine."

"All the way?" he asked, subtly raising a brow at her. "Don't you know that everywhere in the Dreaming is here for me? There is no 'all the way'. And, I merely wished to make sure you're all right. You seemed rattled, after… well, after Finn."

"I was," Hope admitted. "I still am a little. I-I just need to be alone for a while."

He fixed her with a scrutinising gaze and Hope detected a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Is it anything I did?" he asked. She noted a strange sadness had filled his voice. "Or inadvertently said? I can assure you, whatever it was, I did not–"

"You were amazing," she told him honestly. It was basically part of the problem, but she didn't want to expose that particular vulnerability. "I'm just…"

Afraid I'm falling for you.

"… sad about Emily. My clients, when I was still a live-in-nurse, were usually older people in the last stages of their lives."

And it feels a bit like falling in love with the sun. Completely impossible.

"This is not my first young client, but she is the youngest and… it's just very sad and tragic."

I know you know I'm lying. I know you know there's something else.

"Seeing Finn, getting to name him for her. That was lovely, thank you."

Please, don't press me further. Not now. Please, please, please… be kind and accept the lie.

And then he sighed, a great inflation of his not-even-there lungs that made his slim shoulders move in a fascinatingly human way beneath his coat.

"Very well," he acceded. "I shall take no more of your time. I had a conversation with my sister. She's amenable to a meeting tomorrow, if that is convenient for you?"

"Sure, I can do tomorrow."

"Then you may return to the waking world. This dream is over."

With a wave of his hand she was drawn back, into her body, and she bolted upright with a gasp.

Looking at her alarm clock she noticed it was only a few minutes past two AM.

Oh, her neighbours were not going to be pleased with her! But she needed a release. She had to ground herself or she would not even be able to face Morpheus the next time.

She jumped out of bed, the night air chilling and invigorating against her skin, and she ventured into the eerie darkness and stillness of the living room. Her only source of light was the faint moonlight that cast a haunting glow through the curtains.

Hope grabbed her violin case and reverently took her Mittenwalt from its velvet confines. It was not a very expensive violin, but it was hers and she knew the instrument through and through. After all, it had been her faithful companion for many years.

She took out the bow, tightened and rosined it, then positioned her instrument and placed the bow against the strings with tender familiarity, feeling a connection to her violin that always brought her solace.

It did not take long at all to decide on what to play. She was restless and she needed to expel some energy. Something vibrant and invigorating, but not too technical then.

Soon the starting notes of Baboushka filled the air. A rapid and lively intro, right before she let it rip and went to town on her violin, her fingers and bow intertwining in a passionate dance across the strings..

She only returned to bed when she was too tired to even lift her bow any more.