X-Men FC fic: Dream A Little Dream [Part Two]
Part Two
For the first time in too long, Alex had finally slept through the night and well into the morning. The soft mid-morning sunshine peeked through the curtains and drew shadow puppets on the wall. Alex sat on his bed, staring at the silhouettes, and trying not to think about the vivid memory of Armando’s lips against his.
He wanted to believe that it was just another dream, another episode in the Darwin series, but he knew it wasn’t. Sure, it was still a dream, it had to be, but this wasn’t like the others. He had changed this one. In the dream he knew the ending and he had changed it. This dream was different because in every other one, Darwin had died.
Without thinking about it, Alex let his finger trace around his lips. He had saved Armando, perhaps not in the most conventional way. Not in any acceptable way. The older man’s arms had wrapped around him, braced in the small of the blond’s back. No, not in an acceptable way. This was modern times, 1962, but guys didn’t kiss guys, especially when one was a white juvenile delinquent and the other was a black taxi driver.
Alex let his head fall forward and thump against the wall. He wasn’t racist or homophobic. Perhaps he had been once, the prejudices beaten into him with social conformity. Juvie had changed that. They don’t care who you are there, you’ll still get beaten to death if you step out of line.
So no, he wasn’t prejudiced, but this was wrong. He was supposed to like Raven or Angel or even Moria. He definitely shouldn’t be dreaming about kissing the friend he killed.
‘So, Alex... this is what you dream about?’ In his head, the memory replayed in high definition. Alex groaned again, pushing his face into his hands as if somehow he could hide from the confusion in his mind
Just then there was a tentative knock on the door and Raven’s voice called through the wood. “Alex?” She was obviously trying to be as quiet as possible, perhaps hoping Alex wouldn’t hear her. The blond felt a surge of guilt flood over his confusion. “Lunch is in the kitchen if you want it.”
Quickly he pulled a pair of tracksuit pants over his boxers, leaving the white singlet on. No doubt he needed a shower but it would just have to wait. It was time to burn bridges or whatever that saying was. Trying to be a casual as possible, like he hadn’t driven away every single one of his friends, he opened the door.
“Hey Raven,” he muttered and managed a slightly nervous smile. The blond’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Alex realised she was expecting him to follow the greeting with some kind of taunt. Finally he coughed lightly and her face smoothed out. “So… lunch?”
“Yeah, come on,” she said, turning to head down the corridor, Alex in step beside her. “Charles made sandwiches.”
“Uh-oh,” Alex snorted. “How is the house still standing?”
That startled a laugh from Raven followed by a speedy retaliation; “Like you could do any better.”
“You’d be surprised,” he replied with dry humour. “You learn a lot in juvvie.” Raven gave him a doubtful look which he returned with the most innocent expression he could manage, something he had learnt from Darwin. Quickly he clamped down on the sobering thought, stopping the shadows of sorrow from showing on his face. It wasn’t hard. You learn a lot in juvvie, like how to become a hollow, emotionless nobody.
“Well I think I’ll just take your word for it,” Raven was saying, throwing a smile over her shoulder “Don’t worry though; Charles’ sandwiches are perfectly edible.”
“Good to know.” They fell into companionable silence then, so different from the awkward heavy silence Alex had been causing recently.
By the time they reached the large kitchen that doubled as a smaller eating area, Alex was drowning in the hot guilt that had settled in his chest. It got worse when the animated conversation stumbled to a momentarily lull when its participants noticed the blond. Without a word he slipped into a chair next to Hank and snagged a sandwich from the platter in the centre.
“Thanks, Professor,” he mumbled, nodding across the table to Charles. For a moment there was stunned silence and Alex ducked his head, feeling his ears redden.
“You’re welcome,” Charles replied and he was smiling knowingly when Alex looked back up. “Sleep well?”
Alex felt his lips twitch into a smile. “Very.” Their short exchange complete, the table burst into spontaneous conversation, everyone trying not to keep glancing over at Alex.
For a moment the blond was sure he heard a voice whisper in his head. Impressive. He glanced at Charles but the telepath was engrossed in a lively debate with Erik over which condiments best complemented a good sandwich. He didn’t bother with it, moving on to the surprisingly good food.
It took three sandwiches before Alex decided he couldn’t eat anymore. Sighing heavily, he leaned back in his chair and let the conversation wash over him. It was comforting, listening to the clamour of voices from the mashed-together family. A bony elbow poked in his side as Hank enthusiastically explained something but Alex just smiled at the scientist’s rushed apologies. With only the wispy figures from dreams to keep him company, he hadn’t realised how lonely he had been.
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Gunfire woke Alex, sending him jerking upright on the slightly wooden mattress. His eyes flew open to take in the darkness of night instead of the emptiness of sleep. It took him a moment to orientate himself before he spotted the strip of yellow at the bottom of the door and remembered: the CIA base, the other mutants.
Gunfire echoed again, distant but somehow even more chilling. All but flinging himself across the room, he threw open the door and stumbled out into the bright orange corridor, blinking erratically. Everything was grainy to his tired eyes, like an old movie but with overly-vivid colours, a parody of itself. It was surreal, not quite right, off-balance as though-
A hand on his shoulder grounded him, anchor caught on the seabed. Darwin was next to him, face tight and concerned as he half-whispered, "did you hear the shots?" Alex replied with a nod, not trusting his words in the dizzy spin of his head. "I think it was this way." Darwin's hand tugged at his shirt, turning him around and they both set off down the corridor.
Alex was suddenly stuck by how cold it was, the concrete sapping any heat from his bare feet and leaving him shivering. Or perhaps he was shaking from the adrenaline pumping through his system. Or perhaps from that sticky feeling that settled in his stomach, a black mass that was warning him; something was wrong. Whatever it was, he felt off-kilter and strange, as if his skin was the wrong size.
Darwin hissed a warning that didn’t quite come out in words. Haphazardly he shoved Alex into a handy alcove that the blond could have sworn was a smooth wall seconds ago. They squeezed in, pressed against each other in the small space that was only meant for one. In the hall feet marched past, steady and unhurried, boots clacking against the surface in perfect time.
The men walked in careful ranks, dressed in tight black clothes. They were nothing dark shadows like something out of a Hollywood ninja film. On their heads were strange helmets, bizarrely designed and no doubt extremely uncomfortable. The men seem more like apparitions than solid people, flickering against the walls, not making a whisper of sound beyond the heartbeat clack-clack-clack of their boots on the floor. The world seemed to melt away, the walls no longer solid, until there was nothing except Alex, Darwin and the men wearing black.
Alex was about to ask who they was, but before he had the chance a hand clapped over his mouth, warm and heavy. Darwin's eyes stood out in the darkness and he shook his head slowly. They waited like that, breath coming in suppressed gasps that seemed too loud, until the footsteps faded away.
"Okay, listen," Darwin whispered, hand slipping from Alex's mouth to press against the wall behind him, the wall that Alex couldn’t feel against his back any longer. "We're behind them now. If we sneak up on them quietly enough then the element of surprise is ours."
"Or we could stay here and not die," Alex half snarled, words only wavering slightly. "We're not trained to fight and my power isn’t exactly safe."
Darwin snorted. "Stay here my ass." Something fell away then, leaving a hole in Alex’s mind and he couldn’t feel the floor. Everything was gone and the world spun around him. Only Darwin was still there, hand falling to Alex’s shoulder as the world faded away. "They're going to kill the others if-"
"This is a dream," Alex whispered and everything rushed back in, a tidal wave of colour, a world reinstating itself around the two of them. They were in the mansion once more, in the room full of games, painted red from the sun beating against the drawn curtains. Armando was still pressed against him, solid and real, so far from the apparition of a dream or the memories in Alex's head. The fire was burning again
"Took you long enough." Armando grinned and then he wass kissing Alex, real and solid, not melting away or fading. In his chest, Alex's heart was beating, clack-clack-clack.
For a long time Alex was almost afraid to pull away, to break the contact that told him the older man was still there. He didn’t want to think about anything, didn’t want to face the fact that this wasn’t supposed to happen, that there should be a pretty girl in this dream, not Armando. It wasn’t that he wanted someone else. It was just society knocking on the door with its expectations in hand.
But Alex quickly realised that even in dreams you have to breathe. Armando was smiling at him when they broke apart, eyes looking straight at Alex rather than glancing through him like dream-people did.
"Do you know what's going on?" It was the most ridiculous question Armando could ask. It was easier to think now that the world was standing still, now that the colours were softened and no longer the vivid grain of the CIA building. Everything was more solid and believable in that room in the mansion in Alex's head. Even so, he was kissing a man he wished wasn't ash. What was there to understand?
"I'm not insane." For some reason they were the first words that Alex thought of. Armando threw his head back and laughed, body arching away from Alex's so that for a second a breath of cold air slipped between them.
"No, Alex," Armando said softly, falling back into place. "You're not insane."
"This is all a dream." The older mutant gave Alex a disbelieving look, raising an eyebrow eloquently.
“You really think this is a dream?” Casually Armando waved an arm about the room and Alex instinctively tensed at the movement.
There was an irrational thought building up, the strange idea that if he Alex let go, Armando would disappear, dissolve into smoke, and the blond would only find apparitions and corpses in his dreams. There was an idea forming at it was crazy and insane but somehow Alex thought that maybe, just maybe, Armando could stay in his dreams like this.
“Of course it’s a dream.” Alex clenched his jaw and for a moment he couldn’t look at the other mutant. “You’re dead.”
“I don’t feel dead.” There was a small smile on Armando’s face and he splayed a hand against the small of Alex’s back. It was then that the younger mutant realised his own hands had found their way to Armando’s hips. “I feel pretty damn alive.”
“Yeah, because this is a dream and you’re a figment of my imagination.” Armando looked strangely offended at Alex’s words, glaring reproachfully at him. “Well it’s true. Either that or I’m going insane. You died. I saw you die.”
“So?” Armando shrugged easily. "I adapt to survive." He opened his mouth and Alex knew, was certain that the other man was about to explain.
Then a loud rumbling broke through the room. It got louder and louder, shaking their dream world until Alex was holding onto Armando to keep himself standing. Something fell from the ceiling splintering as it hit the ground. Instantly light streamed into the room as the ceiling fell down around them, filling the space with blinding white.
"Armando!" Alex tried to fight back against the light, tried to keep his eyes open. For a moment there was the ghostly brush of lips pressing on his, then the light was consuming everything.
Darkness. Then Alex opened his eyes and Hank's concerned face floated over his. The world around them was pressed soft with morning light, complacent and solid and real. Alex was back in a world he knew, a place he could understand.
"Alex?" Hank's forehead was lined, eyes wide and far too big behind his glasses. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," Alex grumbled back, pushing his way into a sitting position. "Could have woken to a prettier face though."
Hank stumbled backwards, face reddening as he stammered out an apology. "Professor requested I inform you that you're to meet him in the bunker."
"Alright Bozo." Alex winced inwardly as Hank's face fell a little more. Quickly he added, "thanks."
"N-no problem," Hank stammered back and, after a moment's hesitation, he darted towards the door. Alex heaved himself out of bed as the door opened and was about to pull a shirt on when Hank's voice spoke again. "You were talking in your sleep, by the way."
Instantly Alex froze and tried to sound as casual as possible. "Oh, yeah?"
"You kept muttering ‘it’s just a dream’. Then you yelled 'Armando'." Alex's chest caved in and he quietly waited for Hank to question him or laugh or walk away to tell the others what he had heard. "I just thought you should know." The door closed and Alex was alone with his dreams.
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It was strangely dark in the higher levels of the mansion, the sun never quite making it into the long narrow hallways. Alex wasn’t entirely sure why he was there, hand resting on the doorknob. It wasn’t like this was going to help him figure out what was going on in his head. He’d need a shrink for that. But somehow, lost in a blurry haze of thoughts, his feet had found their way here.
For a heartbeat he closed his eyes and wanted to turn away, tried to turn away. Instead he twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
It was quiet in the games room of the mansion, tucked away on the left side where trees curled around the windows like a cat's tail, fringing the empty courtyard below. A red velvet curtain was draped over the window when he came in, turning the room a deep maroon, and Alex had the uncomfortable feeling that he was stepping into the belly of the beast.
He shrugged the foreboding off and pushed the curtains back, letting the sunlight slip into the room. There was a thin layer of dust on most of the surfaces, the mutants never quite finding the chance to put the small games room to use. Alex had simply avoided the place after Raven had shown them it in on the grand tour.
Crouched in the shadows next to the tallest shelf of board games was a pinball machine. Alex took a deep breath and walked over, bending down to plug the machine in. Instantly the game whirred to life, exploding in electronic tunes, a million different beeps and flashing lights of every colour. He almost turned it off again, finger hovering over the switch.
Then he was standing and the lights were dancing in stars across his eyes. His hands fell naturally into their positions, and the ball shot off its starting mark. Only half his mind was really on the game, the other half lost in the memories that surged up at the familiar sounds. The prison was all grey concrete permeated with that emptiness that always lingered in the absence of friends. The CIA headquarters was grey concrete and the warmth of a presence beside him.
“Jesus man, you are killing me.” Alex spun around so fast he was sure he must have pulled something. Behind him the room was as empty as the prison. Slowly Alex let his head drop, chin pressing against his chest, eyes squeezing shut. This was a bad idea, he knew it had been a bad idea. It was hard enough having the memories in his head but now-
A hand fell onto his shoulder, heavy and comforting. Alex stopped breathing, didn't dare to move. Whoever it was, he didn’t want to face them, didn’t want to try and answer their questions.
“Hey Alex.” The voice came out of the air in front of the mutant, so achingly familiar. Desperately he forced down a sob, hands gripping the edge of the pinball machine as if the floor might fall out from under him any second.
"Darwin?" The name came out in a whisper, more a prayer than a question. The hand on his shoulder gave an answering squeeze. Very slowly, Alex opened his eyes, searching round the room. It was empty. There was no chocolate brown skin or easy smile, just the empty expanse of the games room. He let his eyes slip shut again, taking a shaky breath. "What's going on? Am I dreaming?"
“I don't know, man.” Armando’s voice was soft and hesitant. “I’m pretty sure you’re not or you would be able to see me. The last thing I really remember is the ceiling falling down in your dream. After that it's a bit blurry until suddenly I'm in this place.”
“This can’t be real,” Alex muttered, shaking his head resolutely. “I’m just going insane.”
“Really?” Armando snorted. “You think that’s the answer? You’re the sanest person I know.”
“Knew,” Alex corrected, his insides twisting into knots. “The sanest person you knew.”
“What?”
“You’re dead, ‘Mando.” The nickname slipped out before Alex could stop it, falling easily from his lips as if he had said it a thousand times before. “I killed you.”
“You did not kill me.” Alex flinched at the sudden anger in Armando's voice. “It was not your fault. Don't try and take the blame from Shaw. He’s the asshole who killed me so don’t give me that guilt shit.”
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry anyway." The hand on his shoulder clenched sharply, fingers digging into Alex's skin. "Jesus, okay! Not my fault, got it." The pressure stopped, fingers sliding a little further along, half resting against bare skin at the neck of Alex's shirt. The touch was a peculiar sensation of both cold and hot rolling across his skin where Armando's hand rested. "You're pretty strong for a ghost."
The other mutant hesitated before he replied. “I don't think I'm a ghost.”
"What do you mean?" Alex frowned. "You're dead and currently talking to me. Unless I talk to dead people, what else could be going on?"
“Well I adapt to survive, right, so what if I adapted to survive death?” Alex couldn't stop a snort at that. “Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but I mean, can ghosts get into people's dreams and-” his hand squeezed lightly “-touch things?”
"I don’t know," he grumbled. “I’m not exactly experienced with this sort of thing. For all I know, I’m just talking to myself.”
“Back to the insanity thing again?” Alex could practically hear Armando rolling his eyes. “Even mutant powers defying death makes more sense than your ideas.”
"So why can't I see you?"
“Come on, man.” Armando's voice was amused. “I thwarted death, give me some leeway. It's taking enough effort just to make my hand solid. It's easier in dreams.”
"Uh, speaking of dreams," Alex cleared his throat a little too loudly and he could feel a red flush creeping up his neck. "Sorry about the, you know-" he shrugged awkwardly "- the dreams. I really don't normally do that... To you... In my dreams..." his voice trailed off and frantically prayed that God might choose this moment to strike him down.
“Don’t worry about it,” Armando murmured, thumb rubbing in a distracting circle on Alex's collarbone. “I didn't exactly hate it or anything. You can be sure I would have punched you if I didn’t want your tongue down my throat.” Alex let out a surprised laugh at that, blush deepening even as he cursed his body’s reactions.
Suddenly the hand on his neck disappeared, leaving Alex's collarbone cold and tingling. Instantly the younger mutant’s eyes flew open but there was nothing to see, just "Darwin?" Alex's voice was embarrassingly desperate. "You still there? Armando!"
“I- I'm here.” Armando's voice had taken on a tight, exhausted tone. “Sorry, I couldn't keep myself solid. Talking is easier.”
"Oh, okay." Alex paused a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the absurd situation. "What are you going to do? Actually, what have you been doing all this time?"
“Not a lot to be honest. Plenty of sleeping so I don't get too tired trying to, you know, exist. It's weird though, I think I'm attached you somehow cause I can't be too far away from you. Different wings of the mansion is fine but if you leave I basically pass out for a couple of days.”
"So what you're trying to tell me is I've got an invisible stalker." Armando burst into laughter at that, the sound almost filling the room. "That's good to know." Charles' voice suddenly broke into their conversation, echoing eerily in Alex's head.
‘Can all of you please come to the lab. Hank wants to try out Sean's new wings and I'm sure we could use a little extra help.’
Alex turned to face where he guessed Armando was. "Did you hear that?"
“Yeah, the professor doesn't really limit his broadcast to exclude half-formed dead people,” Armando replied wryly. “I hear everything he projects and man, you do not want to know what he says to Erik.”
"Woah, way too much information," Alex said, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he leaned down to flip the switch on the pinball machine. The machine collapsed into silence, the lights slowly fading out until the game was nothing more than a hunched shadow again. "You coming along to see Bozo fail?"
“Be nice, jerk.” There was a slight brush on the back of his head as he started across the room. “Hmmm, it's hard to smack someone when you don't have a corporal body.”
"Ooo, kinky," Alex laughed as he closed the door behind him and (hopefully) Armando. The games room lapsed into silence, cold and empty. The walls were painted a light yellow but as the sun dropped further down the sky, the yellow melted into grey.
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| Part Three |