Bittersweet Reunion

Disclaimer: See Previous Chapter

A/N: I\'d like to thank Corenn for that wonderful review! Thank you for feeding the starving author. And don\'t worry, I always make my characters suffer (to one degree or another)! *grins* Angst is my God....literally....I write for him....sometimes......Err...Anyway...on with the story!!


The Dreamer Wakens


Sheets twisted and tangled as the body writhed on the bed. Coarse linen knotting tightly around thrashing limbs as if to restrain, scratching harshly against dusky flesh. Sweat plastered long vibrant red hair to a perfectly heart-shaped, angelic face. An unusually lovely faced currently pulled and stretched in a harsh rickettus. A painful grimace reflecting the conflicts of the unconscious mind floating murkily beneath the slumbering awareness.

Long eyelashes swept up, eyes fluttering open with a strangled gasp. Wide eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling, the pupil so dilated that only a thin ring of pale jade outlined the black-nearly glowing in contrast. Eyelids dropped shut again as one long, lanky arm came up to drape across forehead and eyes, blocking out the pale sunlight filtering in through a dirty window hidden by even dirtier curtains.

Slightly chapped, bow shaped lips parted in a soft sigh as the tall, willowy body pulled up into a sitting position, constricting, sweat soaked sheets slithering down to pool at his waist. The faint early morning light teasingly caressing the nightmare sheened body, old faded scars lovingly highlighted. The raised arm brushed back, running through long tangled hair the color of fresh blood, pulling away strands plastered to naked flesh.

Alashya took a deep shaking breath as nausea rolled through him, his stomach clenching in revolt as the acidic burning of bile rose in his throat. Searing, bitter taste like the aftertaste of defeat and degradation. His tongue swept through the cotton stuffed caverns of his mouth, swallowing the taste of old alcohol and rotten ash with a grimace.

That dream again. Trapped in the vast darkness of space, staring into the abyss of eternity. Feeling the slow, steady pulse of something like a heartbeat as at first one, then two, then rapidly multiplying into an innumerable field of stars sparked into existence. And none shining brighter than the two straight in front of him. Seated right next to each other-one pulsing with calm blue radiance, the other a vibrant pale red. Their light grew brighter and brighter, till they’re near blinding light consumed the whole field. It was then that they began to spin, to circle each other slowly then faster and faster, as if caught in each others gravity-neither able to escape.

He had been able to feel tension mounting as that rushing, pounding pulse in the background grew louder and faster, making his teeth ache and his eyes throb. Every nerve seemed stretched to the breaking point with anxiety, with the foreboding knowledge of something coming, too thick heaviness of the warm air pressing down on him. He thought he would scream when the two stars went supernova. The percussion left him deaf, ears ringing with a hollow buzzing, the blast throwing him out of the dream. Even as he floated away, pure blackness steadily encroaching on his confused, distorted senses he could see something, something so beautiful it hurt forming in the center of the supernova’s aftermath, but he couldn’t….couldn’t….quite grasp it…the sight slipping through his mental figures like so much fine sand.

He had started having that particular dream nearly a week ago, and it always left him feeling raw and achingly empty inside. So sad and hollow he would have wept every morning if he had had the strength for it. The dream was what had prompted him to down a whole bottle of that cheap vodka the night before. A vain attempt to drown awareness in alcohol induced stupor. It hadn’t helped. Nothing ever had with the dreams. Nothing except…No. He shuddered, suddenly freezing cold in the chilly autumn air. No he would not go back there, would not even think it.

Entire body shaking, Alashya slid his feet of the bed onto the floor, still clutching the sheet tightly to his waist, as if it were his only life line to reality. As another shudder wracked his frame, his mind searched for something to grasp onto. Imrys. Yes, he would go see Imrys, he thought as he rose unsteadily, uncaring that he was moving across the small apartment completely naked. The simple act of reaching into the closet, of searching for clothes helped to ground him, to pull him away from the confusing, twisted world of his dreams.

Imrys had called him the night before, to let him know where his friend was now. Because something….his brow furrowed in thought….something had happened the night before. Something important, but he just could not remember what. Of course it probably did not help that when Imrys had called him, Alashya had already polished off half the bottle.

Pulling on skin tight faded blue jeans, worn to the point of ripping in several places, he forced himself to recall the slurred, dizzying conversation he’d had with his best friend, his only friend really, struggling through the fuzzy, sluggish memory spotted by alcohol-induced blackout to remember where Imrys had said he was staying now.

Pulling on a tank top one size too small despite the cold weather outside, the troubled young Dreamer, began to brush the tangles from his longer than long hair. He knew that Imrys had only called for his own sake. Had known the terrible neurotic anxiety bordering on panic that would have consumed Alashya if Imrys had simply disappeared without a word, without a trace.

Alashya scowled and yanked too hard on his hair as he worked the solid, wooden brush through his mess of a hair. He hated to be so blatantly reminded of his own weaknesses, his own shortcomings, if only in his mind. Hated how needy and pathetic he truly was despite his more than flamboyant outgoing persona. A mask to hide the dirty tangled, used and twisted mess he was on the inside. Clenching the brush in a white knuckled grip he resisted the urge to smash it into the mirror. Instead he forced himself to take several calming breaths and slowly release his death grip on the handle, dropping the brush with a harsh clatter to the nightstand.

Working swiftly with practiced ease, his slender, tapered fingers flew through his hair as he sat on the bed. In no time at all he had his long mane tamed into a braid that swung teasingly across the top of his butt. Swaying at every movement with unconscious sensuality. Grabbing an equally ratty jean jacket that actually reached to his mid-thighs with fur lining the collar and wrists-though that was starting to fall apart yet it was still capable of providing some warmth, he threw it on over the too small black top, and headed outside.

He needed to find Imrys. He did not know what he would say or do when he did….just knew that he had to….even if he said nothing…he needed his friends warm, comforting presence. A strange thing to say considering the others short temper and brusque, uncompromising attitude, but Alashya found that strangely comforting, reassuring in its honesty. And that was something he needed right now. Desperate need driving him across the streets towards Imrys, as if the other man had become Alashya’s latest addiction…and he craved a fix.

Pale winter sunlight poured through the thin glass of the windowpane, drifting through the rutty curtain. Stretching languidly like a cat, cheap sheets sliding down along exposed hoary skin. Imrys ran a hand through sleep mussed spiky hair as he slid out of the bed, sheets slithering to pool on the ground. Padding silently across coldly carpeted floor, he inhaled sharply the early winter frost wafting crisply through the open window. Passing the pile his clothes made from the night before, he swooped down for a second to grab his pants, barely breaking stride to side into them and nothing else as he twisted the doorknob.

Pushing the door open, his eerie star eyes swept the room, so different and colder in the daylight. The warmth and intimacy of the night before vanished, having been swept aside by daytime, leaving everything feeling barren and empty. Or perhaps that was only his surroundings echoing how he felt inside. Lately it seemed he only felt anything, only felt alive when enshrouded, entrapped and drowning in the deliriously blurred line between pleasure and pain. And it worked, keeping him content. At least it had…until last night, until his twin showed up in his life once more. Somehow Imralys’ presence always managed to make him feel…ashamed, to doubt everything about himself, about his life. And he hated it. Hated Imralys for making him feel like that. And yet he never realized how much he needed and craved his twin’s calm, burning presence until his twin showed up again. And he hated Imralys for that as well.

Refusing to give into such heavy, morose thoughts at any time, especially this early in the morning…and sober, Imrys shoved them aside with a defiant toss of his head. Slinking forward with renewed determined unconsciously sensuous grace, he went in search of Imralys, who apparently had spent the night on the living room floor. He could feel the warmth imprinted into the carpet seep up, could tell from the unique sharply spicy sweet scent lingering heavily in the air right there. Taking a deep breath Imrys closed his eyes, drowning in the intoxicatingly familiar smell for a moment, feeling it drift down his throat, filling his lungs, coating his entire insides, soaking into every pore, till he could choke on it.

Blinking his eyes open to shake himself out of the daze he was in danger of slipping into, Imrys forced himself to keep moving, to keep moving towards the kitchen, which was the only place his twin could have gone to and still be in the tiny apartment, his hips regaining their usual casually alluring sway. Cocking his hip against the doorframe, arms crossed over a bare chest, he paused to study Imralys as he moved about the kitchen. The sheer domesticity of the situation jarring his senses sharply, tilting reality about its axis. Only pure morbid curiosity kept him in place, watching.

Imralys had his back turned to the doorway, long black frosted white hair hanging unbraided against his back, slithering against a pale gray shirt over faded black jeans. Pale skin, surprisingly unmarred by the past, slid sinuously over the supple, well-defined muscles of his twins’ bare back and arms. Watching that intricate play of skin and flesh brought a dark smile to his lips, and without a second thought Imrys pushed himself away from the door jam.

Moving with the silent, stalking grace of a predator he situated himself behind his twin, a hair’s width away from touching him. Hot breath stirred the fine long strands of black frosted silver as Imrys exhaled against the other man’s neck. Lips stretching into a sadistically sensuous smile as he felt more than saw Imralys shudder, though those hands chopping vegetables never faltered, trembled but refused to falter in their movements. Just as Imralys refused to acknowledge his brother’s presence or the effect his proximity had on his body.

Without actually touching the feast of flesh laid out before him as a pagan offering, Imrys ghosted his fingers over the contours of his twin’s hair, across broad shoulders. Thumbs curled slightly as if digging into the spine whose path they followed, the rest of the fingers spread out along the rest of that vast expanse of nerves and muscles, never truly touching till his hands hovered over slim hips. But then he did not need to touch Imralys to induce a reaction, as his wontedly calm and reserved twin sucked in a sharp gasping breath, the knife dropping from his suddenly listless hands with a clatter. Aside from faint, nigh on imperceptible tremors wracking his body, Imralys stood rigid and frozen as a statue.

Pleased with himself Imrys trailed his arms around Imrys, waiting till they encircled him completely before finally touching the body silently shaking itself apart in his arms. Skin to skin contact sent electricity shooting through both of them, more so than the night before now that the violence of their reunion had dissipated, transmuted into a shift of dominance from Death to Life.

Imralys became boneless, collapsing back against his twin as an overwhelming feeling of rightness and completion settled in him, head lolling back against Imrys’ shoulder. Strong hands, so much like his own, yet less bloodied, tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, effectively trapping him, but Imralys did not care. At the moment nothing and no one mattered outside of the rare show of….affection….his twin seemed to be indulging in.

Or at least as close to affection as Imrys was capable of demonstrating.

Imrys buried his face in the waterfall of hair flowing over his arm, inhaling the unique spicy scent of his twin, the underlying taste of must and blood, almost cloying, causing Imrys to lick the roof of his mouth and hum with pleasure in the back of his throat. Wanting more of that disgustingly enticing taste, he could not resist the pale throat barred to him in unconscious submission. With a quick flick his tongue lashed out, capturing a drop of sweat, savoring the taste, savoring the sight of the pulse beating rapidly beneath the skin, just beneath the surface. Appreciative of the taste coating the tip of his tongue, he dipped his head once more to latch more firmly onto his twins’ throat, lips dragging teasingly across the skin as his tongue licked firmly of the expanse of flesh, tasting, devouring, reconnecting with what was his other half.

Gods, how he had missed this. Missed the essence of his twin, the control, the power, the sight and feel of Imralys loosing it all to him, bending before him like a willow in the wind. Tightening his grip to the point of pain, as Imralys’ soft whimper of pain attested to, Imrys scrapped his teeth over the pulse point, feeling powerful, feeling primal, preparing to sink his teeth in till he tasted blood, to hurt, to mark. Teeth caught the pounding, fluttering pulse between his teeth, pulled up, muscle and tissue following painfully and just as he began to apply pressure a loud, harsh noise crashed through the apartment, echoing off of barren walls, shattering the charged atmosphere around them.

The doorbell.

“Expecting…company?” Imrys sneered releasing the other man and in the blink of an eye moving away, to the opposite end of the kitchen, carelessly shaking a cigarette out of the pack he always kept in his pocket and lighting.

“No.” Imralys replied icily, straightening his shoulders, tossing his hair back in the process. Imrys watched it slither silkily down his twins back, torn between wanting to run his fingers through it and tear it out of Imralys’ head by the roots.

“Unlike you,” Imralys continued, “I do not indulge in such….games.”

Imrys opened his mouth, lips curled in a vicious snarl, preparing to rip into his brother when the doorbell rang again, more insistently if such a thing was possible.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Imrys smirked, dragging in a lung full of ash and nicotine, before slowly, teasingly blowing out the smoke, knowing how much Imralys hated it. A vicious glare answered him, as his twin snatched a plain white shirt up from the chair it lay across, and slipped into the colorless piece of clothing with one graceful swirl of movement.

Silently, without another word to Imrys, he made his way to the door, throwing the badly painted piece of wood open as a third play of the doorbell bounced through the tiny apartment.

“Yes?” He inquired frostily, angry beyond words, though who was most angry at he could not decide—Imrys for his behavior, himself for allowing it, for needing it, or this stranger for interrupting them and destroying the peaceful mood and connection they had briefly managed to establish.

And a stranger indeed. For this unknown person at his door was strange. Disheveled and ragged, in faded, torn blue jeans that appeared to be poured on, an equally ratty jacket to match and a tank top of all things in the cold weather outside, one several sizes too small at that. Rich, brilliant red hair pulled back in a braid hung down the slender figures back with several strands hanging loose, brittle from the frost outside where they hung around his face, all adding to the overall untidy and desperate appearance. The hair a startling contrast to the deep, dusky skin and wide pale, pale jade eyes giving the young man before him a strangely vulnerable air. Despite his height everything about the youth before him screamed ‘prey’.

“Imrys?” The voice sounded scratchy despite the soft tone, “No,” the young man shook his head, licking his lips, “You’re not Imrys. Where is he?”

Imralys arched his eyebrow in question, studying the figure before him more carefully, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the sharp way in which the bones protrude along hips and upper body. How had someone he had never met know that Imrys was there with him?

Hmmm….it seemed his twin had some questions to answer.

Opening the door wider, Imralys barely had time to step out of the way before the kid shoved him to the side and slunk in,

“Imrys? You there?”

“What the fuck?” Imrys snapped striding out of the kitchen, the half finished cigarette dangling from his lips. Catching sight of the new arrival his lips thinned in irritation, “Alashya, what the fuck are you doing here?”

And just like that the vulnerable look vanished from this Alashya’s eyes even as the corners around them tightened.

“Nice to see you too buddy. You gave me this address yourself last night, asshole.”

Imrys snorted and took another puff of the cigarette before stubbing it out on a nearby wall and smiling, a smile that actually reached his eyes for once. A fact, which did not escape Imralys’ notice.

“Yeah so I did. Didn’t think you’d be needing it so soon though. What happened?”

Alashya’s lips twitched in a faint smile as well, but he refrained from answering, still too unnerved by the Dream to speak of it….at least not without being halfway into a bottle of Jack before hand. Instead he asked a question of his own,

“So who’s the doppelganger?”

“My twin brother.” Imrys chuckled at the way in which the young mortal before him ignored Imralys. Catching those infinite eyes so similar to his own, he added,

“Alashya meet Imralys. Imralys this is Alashya.”

Imralys nodded his head in greeting but otherwise spoke not a single word, which Alashya ignored entirely, focusing his whole attention on the spike-haired twin.

“I…ah…needed to talk to you. Thought maybe you’d like to go out for drinks or something.”

Behind Alashya’s back Imralys stared neutrally at the scene, revealing no emotion in his eyes or expression, but rather shutting the door once more with a single flick of his wrist. Imrys briefly caught his gaze before focusing on his friend,

“Sorry. But I’m a bit busy at the moment. Why don’t I call you later?”

The soft click of the door shutting caught the Dreamer’s attention, as his eyes skipping between the two brothers as he added slyly,

“Oh I see. Twin brother has you on a short leash. What’s the matter Imrys? Where you…bad?” He drawled out the last word, a hint of an accent creeping into his speech.

Not waiting for a response Alashya turned around and sashayed towards Imralys hips swaying. Imralys himself was surprised at the mercurial change in attitude, and the sudden heavy, sleepy look in those too bright green eyes, eyes that could easily seduce. All traces of vulnerability vanished with a thought.

“Don’t see why though.” Green eyes trailed critically over the wiry body before him, partially revealed through the unbuttoned shirt and form hugging jeans, “He’s not much to look at is he?”

Imrys choked, repressing his laughter, “Ahhh….but looks aren’t everything. He’s really quite the tyrant.” He staged whispered conspiratorially to Alashya with a wink, enjoying the by-play between them, loving how uncomfortable…and hurt his twin was. Although only someone who knew other man as well as he did would have noticed those emotions flashing like storm clouds across an empty sky.

Despite his apparent ignorance of the brewing situation, Imrys was well aware of his twin’s temperament, could read the anger and distaste that rose to cover more vulnerable feelings, in the stiffening of Imralys’ posture. He did not think it possible for a human body to become any more rigid than his brother appeared at the moment, however, his assumption proved wrong moments later when Alashya slithered closer, pressing himself against Imralys’ taught frame, one arm draped over one shoulder.

Imralys thought his bones would snap and his muscles tear themselves apart under the strain of holding still. But oh! How he longed to lash out. To tear those too-bright green eyes from their sockets, claw that tired, ephemeral face to pieces. He could do it too. Could do much worse. Imrys need never know. So easy really. Just a breath. A brush of unseen fingers against the fragile fabric of this human’s pitiful soul.

For a moment Imralys closed his eyes against the temptation, allowing the thought of death and decay fill him, to spill out from his mouth and nostrils.

And then the moment vanished with a single thought.

Imrys would know.

He always did. Although that should come as no surprise really, considering how inexorably bound they were to each other. Life and Death. Ying and Yang. Male and well….Male. And that was the crux of it wasn’t it?

Imralys sighed, expunging the dark need writhing in his gut with that one gesture. Yet outwardly he did not relax. Despite his liking of humans, he by no means enjoyed too much contact with him. In fact the only person he would allow to touch him willingly was his twin. Still…a nagging thought at the back of his mind kept telling him that this had not always been the case, but he could not recall what might have occurred to change this. Not that he had expected to. After all the centuries his memory was somewhat….blurred.

Not used to being ignored, Alashya seethed internally. Tightening his arm around the shoulder he hung onto, his nails began to dig into the opposite arm, while the fingers of his free hand trailed through the opening in the white shirt and down the chest beneath. Looking up through his long coppery eyelashes at the still, statuesque figure he leaned on, he practically purred,

“Why don’t we see what we can do about loosening him up?”

Alashya, so used to playing the sex kitten in situations he needed to control, so certain of his talents, never had time to think about what happened next. Not even aware of what had happened until he found himself blinking up at the ceiling, the taste of fresh blood in his mouth. A taste all too familiar to him.

Sitting up with a groan as his body protested, his entire back aching, Alashya realized as he sat there, willing the sudden dizziness away, that Imrys’ twin had just thrown him half way across the room with one shove. Something strange was going on. Raising his eyes from the thick carpet he met the most vicious stare ever imagined. The man who had just thrown him with such unnatural strength glared hotly at him with supernova eyes. Swallowing hard, Alashya found himself unable to speak, throat dry and tight.

“Get. Out.” The hissed words freeing him from any need to speak into the tense, awkward silence, as the man speaking them moved away from the door and towards the bedroom without passing him another glance. Something in his manner made the young Dreamer feel as if he were nothing more than an insect pinned to the ground, futilely flapping his wings, dying.

A dark flickered look thrown over his shoulder to Imrys became Imralys’ only concession,

“That includes you. Get out. I’m taking a shower. When I get back out, I want you both gone.” And with that he vanished, the door slamming shut behind him with such force the hinges rattled, a crack appearing in the wall next to them.

“Well damn….” Alashya muttered and shook his head. “Who shrunk his panties?” He snorted and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, “I mean seriously what a fucking drama queen throwing a hissy fit….”The rest of his words froze as he looked over at his friend. The look he was receiving was not what he had been expecting. Instead of Imrys sharing the humor with him, something cold and alien stared back at him out from those dangerously beautiful eyes.

“Do as he says.” Ice felt warmer than the words dripping from Imrys. Alashya gulped, things were not going as he had perceived they would, not at all.

“Imrys?”

“Alashya.” The deadly calm before a storm barely contained within that voice, “Now!!” The last word snapped, cracking like a whip through the air. The Dreamer shuddered, eyes pinching shut, before scrambling to his feet as he felt that swirling, raging mass of energy moving towards him. Rushing past Imrys, he did not so much walk or even run out the door in sudden primal fear, as he did fall coming to land in a panting, hyperventilating heap in the hallway.

For long minutes Alashya simply huddled there, regaining his thoughts, his bearings. But it was so infinitely hard. And lying there, alone in the dim hallway brought the dream back to his waking mind. Shards of it spinning, twisting, digging into his brain, till his fingers began to dig into the skin of his face.

The pain of blunt nails scratching away layers of flesh became a delicious counterpoint to the pain inside his head. He needed to get away, to disappear from himself for a time, disappear into a world, a place where reality did not matter, where there WAS no reality. He needed….

Unsteadily Alashya crawled to his feet, bracing against the paint-peeled wall as he headed outside, into the cold of the winter air, and beyond that, down darkened streets to even darker places, where he could make everything go away.

A/N: *Ponders* I can\'t decide whether the next scene should be the twins or Alashya........*wanders off* Comments? Thoughts? Random outbursts of insanity?