Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)

DPOV

"Good evening, John," I said, as I heard the gym door open. "I'll be just a minute."

"No, no: you take your time, Guardian Belikov. I am in no rush." came the reply from the Academy's caretaker. His voice was soft yet muffled by age and I had recognized his musty scent as he had entered the room. I remembered he was a skinny fellow in his mid-sixties who still wore his wedding band and carried his late wife's around his neck. A kind soul and, more importantly to me, not one to pity.

"Have a nice night, Guardian Belikov," he said as I made my exit.

I smiled back. "You too."

It had become something of a routine, him and I meeting each day as the Academy slept. I enjoyed the peace that the silent gym gave me and revelled in the opportunity to practice alone and free from any stares, bar that of the non-judgmental John. I helped him pack away the mats and clean up for the following day before heading back to my room.

It was a cold night, colder than usual; I could feel the cool leather of my duster flapping against the exposed skin of my ankles as I walked through the empty corridors. I did not require my stick and had not put my glasses on for they made a difference to me; to be perfectly honest, they were more for the benefit of others anyway and since no-one was around, I decided to forgo them for once.

There was an eerie quietness to the night. They say that when you lose one sense, the others become heightened; in truth, I was not sue if I fully believed that, but I had certainly been depending on my hearing the most of all. Silence had always been a source of comfort and as a result, I was very familiar with it. That hadn't changed. In fact, silence had become something of a baseline, like a plain white sheet where sounds and noises were like colours that stained it. When I could see, I saw how people reacted, what they thought and felt, but now I heard it - subtle changes in tone and tremors in rhythm gave away as much as a shift in gaze or a twitch in the body ever could. It was strange to be sure, uncomfortable even, yet in its own way it made me feel more focused for I was less distracted by the flurry and coloured spectacle the sight gave me. I knew I had come quite a way in coming to terms and indeed accepting what had happened, but it was only now that I was really beginning to find merit in my new situation.

Though, of course, there was still that one obvious drawback...

"Dimitri."

My head shot up and my whole body tensed. I turned my head to the side to better hear while my hand instinctively wrapped around my stake. "Who is there?" I asked using what Rose would call my 'mentor voice'. Authority was definitely key in this situation. When no reply came, I felt my face descend into a scowl. "I will ask again: who is there?" I repeated, not bothering to hide my irritation.

It was then that I heard it again. "Dimitri." My name was whispered to me like it was an oddity of the wind's whistle: almost as though someone was calling me from afar.

I was still scowling, very much operating under the notion that it was the work of a couple of disrespectful students lurking in the night. "I am losing my patience: who is there?"

What followed put me right on edge. "Друг...пожалуйста...это я...это Vanya..."

My blood ran cold as my heart jumped a beat. Vanya. I knew many, but only one had that voice.

And there was no faking that.

"Vanya?" No reply. "Vanya! Тыздесь? Где ты!? Ivan!"

"Dimitri…" the sound of his voice trailed off like a train leaving the station while I stood still on the platform.

And just like that, he was gone.

I stood for a moment and contemplated my own sanity. This could not be real. It couldn't. Could it? For all of my thoughts over ghosts and shadows and other worlds, I had taken some comfort in the fact I did not have to personally deal with it; of course, it pained me to no end to watch Rose tormented by it and if there was anything that I could do or shoulder to help her in any way, I would in a heartbeat.

I guess you really do have to be careful what you wish for.

Ivan Zeklos. I had been haunted by him since the day of his death, yet never quite literally. A shudder ran through my being. How could it be him? I was not shadow-kissed. I had not crossed that threshold. I had no connection to the ghostly realm in the way that Rose did, or at least I thought I did not. Had I died that night?

That thought and Ivan's voice remained swirling in my head as I numbly walked back to my room. Ivan... The silence of the Academy had returned, yet it offered no peace to the situation. Had I died...?

It was only with the addition of further noise that I was broken out of the trance that my thoughts had put me into.

"No, you are not breaking another door down-"

"I wasn't going to!"

"He's probably asleep, leave him be."

"He's not asleep. He's just being stubborn and ignoring us."

And there was my levity: my salvation.

"Nice to know you have such a high opinion of me," I said, having stepped around the corner of the corridor that led to my room to address the two arguing figures standing outside my door.

"Oh, Guardian Belikov, I do apologize." said the elder and far more courteous of the two.

"Oh, pish: everyone knows that high standards will get you nothing but disappointment." came the other reply.

I allowed myself to smile at that one. "Good evening, Rose. What is it that I can help you with tonight?" I said, maintaining a level and professional tone.

I heard her scoff. "Hey, who's to say it isn't Hazza that needs your help?"

I cocked a brow, suppressing both my smile and my laugh as I imagined Guardian O'Hara's reaction. "I do not believe that requires an answer."

I could feel her scowl. "Well, actually, Guardian O'Hara here has proved himself incapable of the issue at hand and so does, in fact, require your assistance."

I took a step forward to unlock my door. "But is not the 'issue at hand' fundamentally yours?" I asked as the lock clicked open.

While I could not see, I could picture her standing there with her arms folded and face smirking. "Perhaps at first, but his involvement has now made him an accessory. Ergo, it is his issue too," she said as she stepped into my room, Killian presumably in tow.

"This is not my issue." came his grumbled reply.

I dumped my I.D. and keys on the desk. "I am afraid she has made a good case, Guardian O'Hara."

"What, I-" his tone suggested his confusion over the situation. I felt a little bad for teasing him, but - continuing the legal metaphor - he appeared as collateral in my teasing (and, I won't lie, flirting) with Rose. "She wants you to make some cookies."

I smiled as Rose tutted. "Oh, take all the fun out of it, why don't you," she said. "They're for Lissa." she clarified.

Shrugging off my duster and tossing it onto my desk chair, I stretched out my back and rolled up my sleeves. "Salted caramel or white chocolate and raspberry?"

I went to sleep that night with two people on my mind. The first was Rose, but that was not something unusual: she was always on my mind in some form or another, but her stunt that night had secured her place at the forethought of my consciousness. I mean, only she could come knocking on my door at half eleven - well passed the curfew, and thus a punishable offence - to ask me to bake some cookies. Only Rose.

Oh, dear God, did I love her.

And it was that love that had distracted me for the best part of two hours from the second person on my mind: Ivan. The guilt I felt for the loss of my dear friend had never fully gone away; it would appear without notice and stop me right in my tracks. But this was something else entirely. I tried to convince myself that it had just been my imagination, but no amount of persuasion could shake the cold chill from my spine. Surely it had not been him. Yet, I was not so sure.

I went to sleep more out of need than will that evening. When I did succumb to Hypnos, I found myself back in a place that I thought I had forgotten:

The St Basil's Academy.

My school.

Like so many of my dreams, it seemed so empty, for all my memories seemed to play their course in sound rather than sight: echoes of past conversations, games and debates bounced off the pillared walls and carried through the empty corridors. It was a huge, classical building, designed I believe by an Italian during the eighteenth century: a work of art that stood alongside so many in the Moscow skyline. I could remember the very first day that I arrived at its gates: a Siberian boy of sixteen alone in an unfamiliar city greeted by an explosion of colour and artistry - the product of a clashing between the late Italian Renaissance and early Russian Enlightenment.

And that was where it all began. Within two years, I had met and bonded with a certain Moroi who held a particular knack for wit and liveliness, balanced with measure and control. Ivan was never one to turn down a good time, but never let it dictate him. He was self-aware and so never took himself too seriously: a truly good man, now lost to the world.

All down to one mistake.

"Well, this is different." Adrian's voice startled me a little. I turned and saw him scrutinizing his surroundings, peering towards the decorated walls for closer inspection. "Are we in Tuscany?"

"Moscow," I answered simply.

He blinked and took a step back. "Really? Well, it certainly explains the cold. Could you not put some central heating in your dreams?"

I glowered a little, somewhat resenting the fact that he had interrupted what was actually a very tender memory. "Are you ever satisfied?" I asked.

"Is anyone?" was his shrugged reply.

I rolled my eyes, not appreciating his antics. "Perhaps not eternally, but certainly from time to time."

He chuckled. "I suppose. Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Satisfied."

I was certainly satisfied that he was an ass. "Sure," I said.

"You sound it." he scoffed a little.

"It is rapidly reducing," I muttered.

He laughed. "Ah, fair enough. Shall we get on with this then? I'm feeling good about today."

Much like with John, Adrian and I had fallen somewhat into a routine. His dreamwalking provided me with the opportunity for much more immersive conversation and thus him with someone willing to tolerate his dreamwalking in the first place. It was a strange arrangement, made even stranger by the fact that neither of us particularly liked the other, but oddly beneficial as we both seemed to derive some comfort from the situation. Adrian was, however, careful not to overdo it in such a way that neither of us would become 'overly attached', for which I was deeply grateful. Thus, we found ourselves meeting in dreams a couple of times a week and Friday night had naturally manifested itself into a chess night.

I could feel the world around us change again as the thought of playing chess caused my mind to wander from the decorative corridors of St. Basil's into the equally, if not more so, stunning surroundings of the old library. I heard Ivan's voice again, this time as a laugh, as I remembered the long nights we spent here attempting to work our way through a seemingly never-ending reading list, our progress somewhat slowed down as we frequently stopped for a game of chess or cards. I could still remember the feel of those cards in my palm or of the pieces of worn wooden figures, hand-carved by one of Ivan's relatives (an uncle if I remember rightly) and given as a Christmas present. It seemed such an odd thing to remember so clearly, but such was the unpredictable and inexplicable nature of memory. I found my eyes drifting towards one of the old tables used for study where that same chessboard now lay. A smile crossed my features and I almost forgot that Adrian was even there, for he seemed quietly enamoured with his new surroundings.

"Huh," He said, after a while.

I smiled and looked up. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

A small smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. "Yeah… Makes St. Vlad's look like a piece of sh-"

"Shall we get started?" I said, cutting him off before he could finish that one.

He shook his head, smirking and plonking himself down on the chair behind the white pieces. "Do you do that to Rose?"

Like I could even try. I mentally scoffed, but outwardly smiled. "I am playing a long game with that one," I said.

He chuckled. "A very long game." he corrected. "I fear her stubbornness may outlive us all."

At this, I chuckled. "It is very probable," I said.

I sat down opposite, and he made his move. "Having said that though, you are pretty stubborn too."

I frowned. "Meaning?"

"Well, it might just become an endless showdown with no actual winner."

I shrugged and moved my pawn. "Not every game has to be won."

We fell into a companionable silence for the next few moves. I had noticed Adrian was playing a more intentional game, thereby suggesting that at some point during the week, he had done a bit of research. That made me smile, for we had played each other thrice and, without wanting to sound too boastful, each time I had indeed won - Ivashkov was on a mission today.

"Ah, shit." He said when I moved my rook in line with his bishop.

I smiled and shook my head. "It is better not to emulate already played games." I pointed out.

He grimaced. "Bobby Fischer: you have let me down, mate," he said, begrudgingly moving his bishop out the way and settling in to ponder the board. "You alright?" he asked as he moved his queen.

I looked up and frowned. "What?"

He met my gaze with a bored yet knowing look. "I know you're not the most talkative of people, Belikov, but you have been especially quiet today. Something's up."

I felt a shudder run down my spine as thoughts of Ivan re-entered my mind. "I'm fine," I said and moved my knight to reassure him.

He scoffed. "You're lying," he said making another move.

"Perhaps I am," I responded to both his comment and his move. "Though it would not be without good reason," I assured when he looked at me with no little concern.

He sighed. "I guess we all have our reasons to stay quiet."

His comment puzzled me. Obviously, he had his secrets, and even the stuff he did impart didn't offer much in the way of illumination, but this seemed different. I suspected it had something to do with Reed (whose Shadow Kissed disposition had been conveyed to me by both Rose and Killian earlier on in the evening), but I did not pry: it was certainly the last thing Adrian wanted to have me poking about his troubles, and I certainly respected him enough to leave him be. And, though I doubted if he'd ever admit it, the respect went both ways, indicative by the fact he let the topic go and went back to the game. Within a few more moves he was back in, playing a much more unique, thus statistically better, game. Tentatively, he moved in to threaten my knight. I paused for a moment to consider my next move when, suddenly, he jumped.

I looked up. "You okay?"

He blinked and looked off to the side. "Yeah...just, I think someone's at my door."

I frowned before getting his meaning, only to then frown again. "At this time?"

"Yeah…" he said, his brow furrowing further. "I might have just imag-" he stopped again and bobbed his head from side to side. "Nope, someone is definitely looking for me," he said with a wide grin on his face and a wink in my direction.

"If that be the case, you should probably answer it," I said nonchalantly, looking down at the board.

He narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you won't mess with my pieces?"

I looked up at him. "I am not eight years old."

He cocked a brow. "Wouldn't stop me..."

Of course, it wouldn't. I resisted shaking my head. "Just go and see who it is."

With one last sceptical glance, he hummed before I watched his figure fade, like smoke from a snuffed-out candle.

He was gone for a good while. I found myself reclining back into my chair, relaxing a little as I examined the board. I felt my eyes trace across every element of colour as they scanned the game before me. It still all seemed so real. Maybe too real. I had to constantly remind myself, almost to an exhausting extent, that this was all the work of a combination of my imagination and my memory. However, there was some aid given by the combination of remembered fact and imagined fiction. This library, for example, certainly held the shape and basic colouring of the one in the lower west wing of St Basil's Academy, but certain elements I could see were embellished: the engravings on the shelves and the design of the furniture seemed to belong more in an art gallery and certainly were not part of the original structure of the library (or if they were, there would never be this well preserved within the Academy budget). Even the general colour of the room seemed saturated and intensified, as though my imagination had put a filter across my memory which caused an outburst of colour and contrast across the landscape. It was something I was noticing a lot of in my dreams of late; I suspected it was a certain form of counter-reaction since my days were kept solely in darkness, making me miss the so basic and underrated pleasure found in everyday colour.

It was probably a good thing that it was so saturated as it too acted as a reminded of the fantastical nature of my dreams and the world which I could see.

I was still examining the board when I saw Adrian's figure reappear just beyond the table. "Ah, Adrian - you're back," I said, scanning the board one last time before looking up. "What was the-"

I jumped up from my chair, my knee hitting the table and jolting the board. I froze.

For a faction of a second, I thought I had completely lost the plot. Even when my mental faculties kicked themselves awake to tell me what I was seeing wasn't real, I could not help her name slip through my open mouth. "Roza." I more whispered her name than spoke it, afraid that too harsh an exclamation would cause her to vanish from my sight, like an animal in the wild.

But she did not.

She neither vanished nor moved an inch. Instead, she too stood frozen and staring at me as though I were a ghost. "Dimitri…" came her equally stunned reply.

We could have probably just stood there for an eternity, had it not been for the other party present at that moment. "Ah, Belikov - you've gone and knocked down your king," Adrian said as his attention strayed no further than the board.

I didn't even bother looking down. "Keep it down," I said and within two strides, I had cupped her cheeks and pulled her lips to mine, pulling her body closer to my own. I felt her respond almost immediately: her hands worked their way around my waist and pulled me in tighter still. I pulled away just to breath and found myself staring into her deep brown irises, the golden flecks within them seeming even more pronounced than they had been before, reminding me of how truly mediocre my memory was. She blinked a couple of times before coming round.

"Heya, comrade," she said, a wide smile encompassing her face as she looked up and into my own eyes.

I could feel myself tearing up just a little. I didn't even care. My dampened eyes shifted as I drank in her every feature, committing it all to my memory. "You are real," I said, more as a statement than a question. I knew she was. I could tell. There was nothing embellished about her - perfectly imperfect and perfectly honest.

She nodded all the same. "As real as you." I watched as the act caused her hair to shift. I lifted a finger to thread its way through those soft locks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the light of the room change: as though the sun was rising from outside, the library's golden hue brightened. The light filled the whole room, but I marvelled at the way it shimmered against Rose's long, dark curls: how it highlighted the lighter brown elements that swirled against the darker colours like molten caramel and chocolate. "You are so beautiful," I whispered, as my finger caressed her cheekbones.

A perfect moment…

Short-lived as it was.

"Ahem: still here. Come on: let's keep this good, clean, family fun people."

"Shut up, Adrian," Rose said, scowling over at the man.

"Shesh, a little gratitude would be nice." came Adrian's muttered reply.

I remained entirely awe-stricken, unwilling to either lose this moment or avert my gaze from the woman before me. "How…?" I whispered, but loud enough for him to hear. Rose's eyes flicked back to mine as I moved my thumb down to brush against her lips.

"She's with me. Dreamwalking, that is." He explained. "It was something I had heard about. I'm not really sure how long I can hold this for, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Quite impressive if you ask me."

I didn't bother looking up for I could very much picture his smugness.

The thought brought a smile to my lips. Rose caught my gaze and just shook her head. "It's pretty awesome." She conceded, smiling first at me before looking around. "Where are we?" she said, stepping out of my arms to gaze up at the decorated ceiling before her eyes traced their way down and around the many shelves of books that lined the room.

"Moscow," Adrian answered confidently.

"My school," I added, causing them both to turn to me.

"This is your school?" Rose said, her eyes wide and bright. "This makes St. Vlad's look like a piece of shit."

"Ha! Totally called it!" Adrian said, grinning a little.

I smiled at them both. "You are both as bad as each other," I said.

"Two peas in a pod, eh Rose?" he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes and continued to look around the room. I watched her smile grow as she did. She found my eyes, and her smile grew again. "See something you like?"

I beamed at both the question and the memory it held. "I see you," I replied with a teasing tone.

She narrowed her eyes. "And are those mutually exclusive…?"

I cocked a brow but said nothing.

She mock-gasped. "Rude."

"Urgh, you two are insufferable," Adrian said, plonking himself back down on the chair.

Rose shrugged. "Meh, it's your own fault for bringing me along."

"Oh, shall I take you back?"

She glared at him. "You dare, you die."

I laughed a little at the seriousness in her tone. Stepping forward, my arms encircled her waist from behind and I pulled her into my chest, resting my chin upon the crown of her head. "Try to cut back on the death-threats, my love."

I felt her head turn and lean into me and her eyes closed as she smiled. "You were thinking the same thing - don't even try and hide it."

I chuckled and flicked my eyes towards the emerald-eyed Moroi. "Thank you, Adrian, is what I believe Rose meant to say."

Rose opened her eyes to shoot me a humoured expression while the Moroi in question scoffed. "Bullshit."

"He's got a point."

I gave her a look of my own. "Well, I am saying thank you."

Adrian offered a little, seated bow. "I aim to please. And besides, it seems we've all had a pretty shitty day - thought I'd try and lighten our spirits. However, I do now feel a bit sick…"

I shook my head and heard Rose laugh. "Again, your own fault, mate," she said, looking up. I lifted my chin from her head to meet her eyes. She smiled, but there was something in her expression: a subtle wistfulness, mixed with hesitancy. I frowned a little, which was enough to incite a response. "No, it's just-" she sighed softly. "I've missed your eyes."

I felt my face soften and gave a small smile of my own. "Me too."

She leaned her head back on my chest, over my heart. I held her tight, a part of me never wanting to let go. What Adrian had done went far beyond a mere improvement on the day: not only had he reassured himself of his own self-worth, but he had given me a most precious gift. Without question, Rose Hathaway was the most precious thing in my life. She had no equal: not even my sight could compare. What Adrian had done was not so much about seeing her, but about seeing her. As the hours past, I made a point of committing this moment, of committing her, to my battered and worn memory, savouring every detail before it was lost to reality.

We are always told to hold onto our dreams, and there was absolutely no way I was letting this one go.

RPOV

I felt my eyes flutter and found myself looking into the fierce, emerald gaze of Adrian Ivashkov. He looked a little worse for wear but was still smirking.

"Come on then, admit it: you love me." He said, releasing my hands.

One look at the smugness of his face would be enough to warrant a good punch in said face. However, given what had just happened, I decided to let him have this one. "You have certainly gone up in my estimation."

He harrumphed. "Oh, how you flatter me so!" he retorted sarcastically.

"Hey, don't ruin it."

"You know what, I am just going to pretend that you just thanked me - for the sake of our friendship," he said, pushing himself to his feet. He moaned a little as he stretched out his limbs.

I chuckled a little before my expression softened. The warmth that I felt had not left my person and, his incorrigible ego aside, there was no denying the magnitude of what Adrian had just done. "Thank you, Adrian. Thank you so, so much."

He looked back at me. I expected more smugness, but - with a certainly unexpected amount of dignity and grace - he gave a simple nod. "You are welcome, Rose," he said in a moment of pure, untainted understanding and respect. Though in true Adrian fashion, he added: "Does that mean we'll be having sex?" with a devilish smile.

I scowled. "And you were doing so well."

He chuckled. "Just kidding."

"Bullshit."

He winked.

I shook my head and looked over at the clock. My eyes widened. "Woah, is it really five in the morning!?"

Adrian blinked and checked his phone. "Ahaha, apparently so. Aren't you supposed to be at the gym right now?"

I grimaced at the prospect. "Oh, Killian is going to kill me…"

Adrian laughed. "Rest in peace, little dhampir."

"Thanks."

"Ah, I'm sure it won't be that bad. Besides, Belikov is bound to bail you out."

I felt my heart flutter and a wide and unimpeded smile crossed my lips. Only Dimitri could have me feeling like a fourteen-year-old all over again.

"Passing wind?"

And only Adrian could have me feeling like the world would be a better place without the male subspecies.

"I'm going to smack you."

He chuckled but stepped away, nonetheless. Smart move, jackass.

I decided I should probably make a move in order to minimize the damage upon rocking up late to the gym. Thus, I rose, feeling remarkably awake considering I had basically been up all night. Heck, even if I had felt tired, it still would have been more than worth it. It would take a lot more than the wrath of Killian O'Hara to diminish the utter joy and contentment I felt upon seeing Dimitri see again. I could not stop myself from smiling at the memory of his own beautiful, candid grin.

I was so whipped.

Shaking my head at the thought, I let out a loud sigh before frowning a little. "Did you ever work out how?" I asked.

Adrian looked up from replacing the lip to his decanter. "How what?"

"How he can see in his dreams."

Adrian pouted a little before shrugging. "Dreaming is a very visual experience, and it is often an experience that defines a situation. Ergo, Dimitri can see."

"Huh…" I considered it for a moment.

He shook his head. "Rose, I am literally just making this up as I go along. I promise, I am as clueless as you are," he said. "Just a little better at hiding it," he added with a wink.

"Mhmm." I hummed. He chuckled. I shook my head again and stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure, Rose," he said, planting a chaste kiss on my head before stepping away.

I closed my eyes and let out another sigh. "Right, now to face the dragon."

"Ah, fear not: it is the Welsh who have the dragon."

I opened an eye. "What?"

He paused, humour embedded in his countenance, as though waiting for me to get the reference. "Never mind."

I opened my other eye and headed out, bidding Adrian farewell as I did. Walking through the halls of St. Vlad's towards the gym, I found myself at peace for the first time in a long time. I had almost forgotten about the reason why I had come to see Adrian in the first place, and the fact that we were mid-crisis.

Emphasis on the 'almost'.

And just like that, it all came flooding back.

I mentally slapped myself for managing to ruin my own little state of contentment when I found myself replaying Adrian's words from mere moments before:

"Dreaming is a very visual experience, and it is often experience that defines a situation."

Given that even Adrian had just criticized his own thinking, I had no idea why it was echoing about in my head, but I felt myself repeating the last bit over and over:

The experience defines the situation. I felt myself almost reciting everything that had happened - all that we did not understand.

The experience. Images of Reed and Mason and Andre and Patrick filled my head, leading me to one thing:

The pain.

Their pain.

Father Andrew had described it as alive - a living experience. I could not fully account for what in Adrian's words had triggered an echo of Father Andrew's, but I felt something click in my mind as this new perspective offered a new explanation. The dead could not feel pain. How could they since it was a living experience? Thus, if pain could only be felt by the living, then only one explanation could suffice:

Whoever was doing this was trying to raise the dead.