A/N I discovered I forgot to upload a previous chapter. I posted Jessamy's Last Flight right after The Play-off. After The Play-off comes the chapter Surrender. Hopefully I was able to fix this correctly

When Dream materialised in Hope's apartment, he found himself in her dimly lit living room. The curtains, drawn halfway, allowed a sliver of moonlight to filter through, casting a delicate glow that gently touched the surroundings.

It was what mortals liked to call witching hour.

His gaze landed on a collection of Egyptian symbols on the wall, then slid to the two paintings. A fraction of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he noticed the image of Hades and Persephone.

Simple yet inviting, the room boasted furnishing that exuded comfort over costly. A modest couch, positioned near the window, that's where he found her, sitting alone in the dark.

Her face, illuminated by that sliver of moonlight, showed the aftermath of tears, faint streaks still marking her cheeks. The thought occurred to him that he'd seen her angry at him, to the point she yelled in his face. He'd seen her defiant, smiling, challenging, elated, melancholy… So many facets of her character she'd shown him, but he'd not seen her like this.

He neared the couch, but Hope didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence, if she noticed him at all. With deliberate steps he moved toward her, barely making a sound as he traversed the carpeted floor.

The room remained silent. For some reason he wanted her to look at him already and say something inane as, 'Two Endless checking up on me? It must be my birthday', or something else equally… pointless.

Without a word, Dream sat down beside her. For a long time they sat in complete silence. Until she suddenly, slowly, turned her face towards him. "I saw her die today." Her voice was raw and frayed with emotion. He quietly studied her face, its fine beauty still prevalent despite the sorrow he saw etched in her features. The long, sooty black lashes were still wet and her eyes were more silvery now than blue, mirroring the moonlight that bathed the room. Her rich honey coloured hair was swept aside and tumbled over one slim shoulder. He suppressed the urge to reach out and gently rub a strand between his thumb and fingers.

"I know," was all he said. "She would have visited you… had I not summoned her and distracted her."

"I figured as much… You must think I'm really stupid. To cry over someone who wasn't real to begin with."

"She was real today. She lived and she died. It's alright to mourn her. What name did she go by, this time?" He kept his voice purposely soothing and melodic. The voice he used to guide the dreamers into his realm.

"Día."

His lips twitched, a fleeting impulse to smile, it was the Spanish word for day.

"What was she like?" he asked her. He thought it might help her if he could get her to open up and talk about the experience. It might create an opening to get a confession. He did not wish to think further than that because he was already treading perilously close to the borders of his sibling.

"Very young." She gave a sad, pained laugh. "No more than eighteen years, I think. And such fair skin. Like Snow White. Bit like…" She looked up at him and a lovely blush bloomed on her cheekbones. Hope quickly looked away again. "Bit like you. She was wearing the usual black. And… she was so joyous!"

"I know my sister had been much looking forward to this day. Did you have a good time?"

To his surprise, Hope hunched her shoulders and curled into herself, like a small tortoise trying to retreat into its shell. He knew she was no coward. Even when his anger intimidated her, she would slash her chin upward and yell right back at him. That's how he knew she was ashamed of something then. Whatever it was, it made her keep her gaze averted from him.

"I think I ruined it for her," she managed to say with a miserable sounding whisper.

"I am sure that is not true. She–"

"But it is true!" Hope lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes had a strange magnetic pull on him, for he felt himself leaning into her ever so slightly.

"We were supposed to do all sorts of fun stuff. Like dancing. I can't dance to save my own life, but, who gives a shit, right? I was going to have her taste fresh fruit, a good pasta… a bad pasta, just for the fun of it. There was so much I wanted to show her. And the most we ended up doing was talking. About me. When this day was supposed to be about her."

He couldn't help but wonder. Was today the day she'd confided in his sister, about their kiss? That she was… falling in love with him? Wrong subject to think about. Now it was no longer her eyes that held him transfixed, but the sensual curve of her mouth and…

On a slow exhale, he breathed out through his nose and he forced himself, with great effort, to draw his gaze back up. And he knew she'd caught him staring; she was staring right back at him, a bit wide-eyed, bit startled. He could almost feel his sibling, Desire, tracing a light touch along his spine.

"You could have spent the day together, sitting on a couch, staring at goldfish, or staring at trees or stones, for the entire day and it would not have mattered. My sister still would have enjoyed sharing the experience with you. What did you talk about?"

"Falling in love." Two bright patches appeared on her cheeks and fanned up, all the way to her ears.

"Are you… falling in love… with someone?" he asked her quietly.

"That's what we were talking about." She cleverly avoided to answer his question. Despite himself, he couldn't resist giving her a knowing half smile.

Then her tears started to flow again. "That's what we were talking about when-when she suddenly said her time was up. And, one moment she was still there and the next… She slumped against me and she was gone!"

He was not good with emotions. It's what his ex-lovers had liked to lay at his door. Because he kept his own feelings private and close to his chest, because they had always wanted him to see things from their perspective while they refused to consider his. The moment he stopped trying was usually the time their love cooled. Alianora and Calliope came to mind. That did not mean he had not been too rigid in sharing his inner thoughts. But, he had not been the only one to blame either.

It took him a moment to realise Hope had silently been crying for some time now. Her left hand she used to cover her eyes, her right lay trembling on the fabric of the slightly flattened cushion of the couch. And he thought that, perhaps, he might press her hand with his. For comfort. A practice he'd oft seen people do, whether they be family, friends, or… lovers.

He extended his left hand, but all he managed was to lightly rest two fingertips on hers. Miraculously, it was all that was needed to still her trembling and he kept looking, silently, at those fingers touching. He noticed how her hands were long and elegant and he saw no flaw in those long digits she seemed to be so self-aware of. Her nails were short and scrupulously groomed and her hand was delicately veined. The hands of an artist. Of a violinist. He suspected that the fingertips of her left hand would feel at least somewhat callused.

He withdrew his hand.

"I know you already know this, my sister would not have left you unprepared, but I don't believe you really understand. The girl you met today, was merely an aspect of my sister. A part of her she allowed to live and die as a mortal. That aspect, by now, has returned to her. She was with you today. And she will remember every moment shared, every word spoken, and cherish them."

Slowly, Hope lifted her face from her hand and turned to look at him. "She's not… gone?"

He gave her an encouraging smile. "No," he said at last. "Not in that way. There is nothing wrong with mourning an aspect. Our sister, Despair, was killed, many years ago. A new aspect took up her mantle. It was difficult for her when first she became Desire's twin, as it was for all of us. There was much we had to adjust to."

"Wait, but… how? You just told me she was killed?"

In the soft moonlight, Dream could see colour slowly pooling back into her face. He knew she was doing her best to deal with all ot this. Dealing with concepts that came with being an Endless. Things she should not even have knowledge of, let alone having to deal with.

"Yes, she was killed. And yet, people still despair. We are endless, Hope. We are not a mere personification or our function. We are our function. When we die… we get replaced by a new aspect. My sibling Despair is every bit the Despair that once was. With all of her memories. She may look a little different, have a different way to look at things and approach things. But, it's still her. Just… a different point of view. That does not mean we did not mourn the loss of the previous point of view."

Hope's brows knitted together in a frown. "Does that happen a lot?"

"No. Despair was the first and, I think, in a galaxy many worlds away, an aspect of me once died. There are many worlds, many realms and universes, all with a different aspect of us. While this is my preferred form, other aspects may prefer different forms."

She cleared her throat and looked away again. "It does suit you."

"I'm glad you approve." He deliberately flashed her a smile he knew would affect her.

And sure enough, the bright spots appeared on her cheeks again. Right on cue.

"Thank you," she said a bit quickly. "For taking the time to explain."

With each breath she took, Dream saw sorrow's grip on her weakening. And, as sorrow ebbed away from her, he could see acceptance arrive in its wake. Silence stretched between them and Dream allowed her to come to terms that this was how it was. Nothing had really changed after all. At the end of it, he detected a hint of gratitude. Inwardly he applauded her, that she could now feel that way for having been a part of this, even if the last leg of it had been very trying for her.

Suddenly her voice cut through the silence, on a soft whisper. "Can I ask you a question? And will you answer it truthfully?"

He wanted to tell her she had permission to ask him anything. That he would do anything. Instead, he said, "Yes."

Her silvery eyes took him in, giving away she'd detected something in his voice. Curiosity lighted her eyes, then something else, wariness perhaps, dimmed them a little.

"A week ago, after I first met Hob in your realm, I–"

"First met him?" He went very still. His body briefly ceased to function properly. Everything just… stilled.

"Yes. We met up several times. We had drinks together at a place called 'The New Inn'. And we've been practising music together. Why?"

He shook his head, and a rogue surge of jealousy swept through him. Hob and Hope…

A possibility he'd not even considered.

"Nothing. Please, continue."

"I had a dream that night, and, in that dream someone visited me. And we talked… briefly. And…" With each word her voice grew softer, more hesitant. And now she was looking at him with uncertainty.

"I kissed you."

Her eyes went round and her lower lip dropped. "That… wasn't a dream?"

"No." And then he added softly, "I was drawn to you. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed kissing you."

He saw the impact his words had on her. He could scarcely believe the relief he saw lighting up her face, as if the sun itself rose inside her. If her feelings for him had been inspired by Desire, he was not able to detect a hint of their interference.

His projected heart thudded hard in his chest.

He doubted his sibling would have dared a new game. Not so soon after his last warning. Still, he knew how much Desire enjoyed uprooting his relationships. They just loved to twist tender feelings into something ugly, until nothing remained between two former lovers but cold, bitter resentment and disappointment.

And now he had to take a gamble, in a game that often saw him the loser.

"I should not have kissed you. It was a mistake."

She went utterly motionless, still. Like a deer caught by a wolf in a clearing. At first, something akin to disbelief flickered across her pretty face. It was soon chased by something else: disappointment, or hurt, there and gone.

"A mistake?" she whispered. "You kiss me that way and made me think it was a dream. Do you have any idea how many times I replayed that moment in my head, over and over, wondering about it? And now you say you made a mistake?" Her voice rose with each word, and despite the fact he didn't like how he was the cause of her current pain, he couldn't help but admire the fire in her eyes. She truly was glorious when she was angry.

Suddenly she shook her head. "No, I don't believe you. It's something else. You don't kiss someone like that and then go back on it. You just don't. So, what is it?"

All colour then started to leach from her face, and the anger in her eyes died, taking the lights that had sparkled in them with it. It reminded him of a cornered animal that knew it was defeated, and surrendered.

"Is it because… that problem I have…"

The thought she might think that sickened him.

"That matters not to me."

"Then why? Why kiss me at all?"

She turned a regretful, soulful gaze on him, and he weakened. Just a little.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he reached out and with a thumb brushed away a solitary tear glistening in a mauve crescent beneath her eyes. He pulled back at once, as if the action had surprised himself. Perhaps it had. He looked down at the small wet droplet clinging to his thumb, and rubbed it away, right into his skin.

"You know why. To understand my sister's affections for you, I studied you, and I looked too closely. And now, I find, I cannot look away. You are precious to me, Hope, indescribably precious, but the feelings that exist between us… they will not last. I might wish for a deep abiding love, someone to share my existence with, but Desire will not let me have it. They like me to have a taste of it, until I'm overcome with yearning. That's when they take great delight in turning it to bitter ashes in my mouth."

Hope shook her head and she sniffed. "I don't understand. What do they have to do with this… with us."

Dream thought for a moment. "Think of love as a home," he began, while thinking how to best explain, "a place where happiness resides, designed to withstand hardships. Like a home, love faces many challenges and trials, and to endure them, it must rest upon a sturdy base. Desire… is like a foundation of shifting sand. A home built upon sand cannot endure storms. The foundation will erode and the construction, no matter how well designed or well built, will collapse. But, a home built on the bedrock of friendship, respect… devotion? It will withstand even the hardest of trials of time. I am ten times a fool, for I keep trying to build a home on sand."

"Then start building one on stone," she implored him, her tone aching.

"I can't. Not alone."

It was all he managed to think of saying, to let her know his feelings for her ran so much deeper than basic desire. Because, before Desire had made him their target once again, friendship and admiration had already been turned into solid cornerstones.

She nodded. He knew she understood his meaning.

"I don't know anything about desire. Not any more," she told him, her voice trembling. "And what little I used to know, was a long time ago, when I learned that for me desire means nothing good. I tamped down even the merest whiff of it and I put in a lot of effort in staying far, far away from everything and anything to do with romance."

Something threatened to unfurl inside of him. The first tendrils of hope. Because he understood, at once, what she was getting at. That hateful defence mechanism she'd had to deploy, that had kept her from dreaming and tasting the delights of being intimate with a lover. That glorious defence mechanism that, if he dared to believe what she was insinuating, had also kept her from desiring men in a romantic way. Because she had shielded herself against it. Which meant that, any feelings she might harbour for him, did not stem from desire.

"And then one look killed me," she continued in a way that slashed right through him. "The irony is, it wasn't even directed at me, but at a raven and I'm not sure it even happened at all. But, I felt as if you were looking at my soul itself and found no flaw, and my heart has not worked properly ever since. Tell me, Morpheus, is that desire? Because if it is, then you are right, and this thing was doomed from the start."

The tendrils of hope were not to be denied. They took root, deep inside of him.

"Then you, sweet love, are the sole arbiter of my future happiness."

Her eyes shot to his, a startled look in them.

"There is a universal rule in place, a rule I have disrespected one too many times. An Endless is not allowed to love a mortal. It will bring about their downfall."

A meaningful silence fell between them and Dream allowed it to settle in, to become significant. Her entire face changed when the truth, also, settled in.

"I no longer have a mortal life span," she offered feebly, "does that count?"

He reached out to trace the gentle curve of her face. "I'm afraid not. You can still die as a mortal through sickness, or a fatal injury."

Hope tilted her face, leaning into his hand. "I'm afraid." She whispered it.

For others it might have been a random statement with no real connection to their conversation. But Dream knew what she meant. After a life of hardship and betrayed trust, it had to be a daunting prospect for her, to surrender to someone, to him. For he had already shown her a ruthless capacity to shed a different light on the depth of her feelings and make them look ugly, unworthy. She was afraid that, by accepting a boon from his sister, he might, at some point in the future, use it against her.

He dropped his hand, to gently take her wrist. Their eyes locked and he watched with fervent interest as a blush painted her from her cheeks all the way down to her collarbone. Beneath his thumb, placed over a pale blue vein, her pulse raced. "If I could take back any harsh spoken word against you back, I would. Though given my... temperament, I feel a warning would not be remiss, because I cannot promise you I will never speak a harsh word again. That withstanding, I should be honoured and fortunate beyond reason if you'll consider having me for your own."

Dream turned her hand up and brought it to his lips. He softly opened his mouth against her skin, right below where her lunate and scaphoid bones met, and he flicked his tongue there in a kiss that was both the most chaste and at the same time the most carnal he'd ever given.

"I should like your permission to address my sister," he whispered against the skin of her wrist, "and beg her for a kindness, to end my misery. I would beg her to bestow upon me the gift of your immortality. But, I shall do no such thing against your wishes. So you see, I spoke truly… you are the sole arbiter of my future happiness."

Now he gently lowered her hand again and placed it in her lap. And he pulled back, deliberately creating a distance between them.

Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes. "It would… not be…?"

"No, it would not. It would simply be a gift to me, to us, if that is your wish."

She did not reply, and he deployed the most underhanded technique he had in his arsenal. He did not regret it overmuch, not if it would give him what he wanted. For he had read her dream records, had he not? And did he not know exactly what she yearned for? He looked at her, from underneath his lashes, in much the same way he'd done, right before Jessamy got shot, and he filled that look with all he felt for her.

"That's not fair." Her voice trembled.

"I suppose you are right," he told her, freely admitting what he'd just done. "But, as they say, all is fair in love and war. And this, from the start, has been a little bit of both. Will you let me, Hope?"

Silently she studied him for a moment longer. Something sharp and bright flickered in there.

He'd hoped for a surrender, but this resembled anger more, a flare and then gone. And he had the distinct feeling that his major gamble had just blown up in his face. Desire had won again after all.

But then something happened. Her entire face changed and her eyes became softer. They filled with resignation and, at last, there it was… the surrender he'd been hoping for.

"Yes," she whispered, in such an aching voice, there was nothing else to do but to gather her in his arms.

Triumph surged through him, like the welling of the strings of her violin. He brought down his face as hers tipped back to receive him, and all he knew was a devastating relief when he kissed her. He knew not if the shock that trembled through him, originated from his body or hers. A startled sound shivered free from her on a sigh that never travelled farther than his lips. This time he was a bit more audacious, more impatient. Though he kept the pressure light, he let his tongue tease the seam of her lips as he sampled her, tasted her, prepared her for the exquisite intrusion that would follow.

He pulled her closer, allowed his lips to slant more ardently over hers. A tiny gasp gave him the momentum he sought and he let his tongue slide possessively into the slightly hot, wet, velvet sweetness of her mouth.

And what started as a too eager invasion, became a full on mutual siege. Searching, probing, demanding, giving. It was mindless, searchingly erotic, frank and drugging. Now that there was no longer a need to skirt the borders of Desire's realm, Dream shoved them both straight into it, as he took the kiss as deep and passionate as the physical act of love, only to break apart to drag in hot, swift, rough breaths so the next and deeper kiss might begin. Never had this intimate act so thoroughly robbed him of his senses.

He ended the kiss rather abruptly, though he didn't release her. Neither did she. Hope clung to him, and he held her close, his hand now soft on her back. He rested his head against hers, his breath gusting against her temple. She held her eyes closed as her breaths too came in short little bursts, becoming longer, deeper, with each inhale.

His chest rose and fell hard against hers. At last he moved his lips to her brow and gently, reverently, brushed the gentlest of kisses there. When he did, her hand curled over the hard projected thud of his heart. He wanted her to feel how affected he was by her.

"When?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

He knew what she was asking, but whether she'd intended or not, that one word carried a universe of delicious anticipation.

"Tomorrow, at our gathering in the Dreaming."

He could not wait to deliver these happy tidings to his sister. Tomorrow she would be his and… he would make her his. A thought so overwhelming he had to get away, for he was on the verge of taking something that was not yet his to take. Not before things were… settled.

"I will see you tomorrow then, my sweet love." He said it softly, then pressed a last gentle kiss against her lips. Right before he took his leave in a cloud of sand.