Heero cut the headlights long before they reached the vicinity of the rundown factory.  As they got closer to their destination, Quatre felt an increasing sense of dread filled with pleasure seeming to emit from the building they quickly were approaching.  Trowa sat quietly in the back seat, Wufei nowhere to be seen as he had been chosen to watch the safehouse in case Duo prematurely returned.  Staring straight ahead, it was hard to tell what Heero was thinking.  But judging by the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, and his steadfast glower burned at the road ahead of them, Quatre guessed Heero was at least partially upset.  His main question was, why?

    Heero swerved into a patch of forest that was dense enough to hide the car but not so closed off they couldn't navigate. Turning off the car and already exiting the vehicle, the Japanese pilot grabbed his gear and started walking away without waiting for the other two.  Quatre jumped from the car, his bag in hand, just as Trowa was shutting his own door silently.  The two exchanged a glance before Quatre followed Trowa on their way to catch up with Heero.

    While the pilot who specialized in stealth, Duo, wasn't there with them, he would've been proud to see how silent the three were.  There were times even the woodland animals roaming the forest that cold, clear night were startled by the three teenagers striding past with a purposeful air.

    Circling quietly around the factory, Heero glanced behind his shoulder.  Nodding, Trowa waved Quatre one way while he took another path and Heero took a third, different direction.  

   The night was eerily quiet.  The moon was full with a disturbing tinge of red shimmering on its circumference.  As the large, cobweb-adorned building rose like a sentinel from the fog of the night, it wasn't hard to feel a certain awe for the name of the factory.  The light of the moon fell in soft waves on the broken in windows and fallen doors, tingeing the hue of the world surrounding each pilot a malignant crimson.

    Heero stepped through a back door, flattening against a wall immediately and peering through the foggy interior.  The Moonbeams factory was dusty and falling apart almost as he watched.  It was interesting to note that the factory was listed as active.  However, taking into consideration how hard it was to find the listing in the first place, he doubted the building had seen an outsider for several decades.

    To Heero's right, the softest indications of a glow dusted the floor.  Peering through the darkness, Heero didn't see any other clues of inhabitance, so he moved silently toward the light.  As he approached he noticed from the corner of his eye that Quatre and Trowa were zeroing in behind him.  How strange that all three, though they moved at different speeds and took different directions, were arriving at the same place at the same time.  Heero glanced at the others to indicate he'd lead, then disappeared down the hallway.  Quatre looked around nervously, unable to shake a disturbingly foreboding sense that settled at the bottom of his Space Heart.  Trowa calmly walked behind Heero, his gun cocked like his copilots.

    Heero was, of course, the first to arrive at the pool of muted light.  It shifted and swirled mesmerizing shapes of alternating shadows and light.  Frowning, Heero moved until he could look sideways into the room that the light-shadows were coming from.  At first he thought it was empty until he noticed a single person sitting in a lone chair at the far end.  Beside the person sat an old fashioned lamp that Heero vaguely recalled being named a `lava lamp.'  It was that `lava lamp' that was casting the strange patterns on the floor.  Hesitating as he tried to discern the imminence of any threat from this newcomer, Heero's thoughts were cut short with a female's amused voice.

    “Heero, Trowa, Quatre... welcome.  Please, come in.”  Heero froze, looking back down the line.  In order, they stood Heero, then a blinking Trowa, and finally a panicking Quatre at the end.  Frowning, Heero considered the possibilities when the female, who must be the person in the room, tilted her head and glanced out the door.  “You -did- want to help Duo, didn't you?”

    At the end of the line, Quatre tried to quell the terror that refused to disappear.

~    As I ran it felt like someone was following, but no matter what I did I couldn't escape.  If I ran faster, that thing behind me doubled its pace and actually started to catch up.  If I slowed, hoping for a reverse psychology effect to take over, that fucking thing just got three times closer.  If I walked, it moved four times faster.  If I ran as fast as I had been, or if I jogged, it tripled its pace.  So I tried running faster, since that way it was still farther away, but then it just got closer.  When I first ran from Heero, I could barely feel its presence at the edge of my awareness.  By the time a few minutes had lapsed, it was already practically breathing down my fucking neck.

    So I ran.

    And ran.

    And ran so fucking much I could barely breathe, could barely think, and definitely could -not- decide on any escape plans.  I began to stumble, trip and actually fell a few times, but managed to scramble up before it got me.  I was so terrified, it was insane.

    Then the world stopped.

    No, seriously, it just... stopped.  I couldn't move, but the thing behind me couldn't either....  I slowly turned my head to see what was behind me.... ~

    The girl turned fully in her chair and locked eyes with Heero.  “I know how suspicious you are right now, Heero, but you'll have to put it aside if you want to be of any help.”

    Heero's eyes narrowed and he leveled the gun at her heart.  She sighed, hitting her head softly against the back of her chair. “Oh, by the -Fates-!  Trowa-would you get that damn gun away from Heero?”  Trowa didn't move.  Fully frustrated now, the girl glared out the doorway.  “FINE.  Quatre....”  The blond stiffened.  Trowa glanced back at him with slightly narrowed eyes.  “I know you're feeling something strange right now, but listen to me.  You feel the future if this path remains so.  You need to feel the present, Quatre, -please-!  It's the only way I can help you... if you listen.”

    Quatre swallowed and closed his eyes, shuddering minutely.  He felt the oppression, the foreboding and fear.  But now he tried feeling beyond that.  He willed his thoughts deeper into the environment, specifically where the girl sat in that shadowed room.

    Urgency.

    Fear.

    Desperation.

    Understanding.

    Regret.

    Care.

    Depression.

    Quatre opened his eyes.  “Please put down the gun, Heero.  I think we need to hear what she has to say.”

    Heero glanced sideways at Quatre without a chance of backing down, but Trowa held out his hand.  The two stared silently at each other until Heero nodded once curtly and put the gun away.  Trowa and Heero looked back at Quatre but the blond was already walking into the room.  Silently the Heavyarms and Wing pilots followed, standing by the door.  Quatre hesitantly walked until he was right in front of the girl.  Trowa frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes.  “We are searching for a friend but it was seem the search found us.  Do you have any information?”

    The girl looked at Trowa, then at Quatre who stood directly in front of her.  She blinked as Quatre murmured, “Dori....”

    Heero stiffened.

    The girl, Dori, softened her expression but it turned sad. She slowly shook her head and spoke gently.  “Sit, Quatre... Trowa... Heero.  I can't tell you everything as you'd like, but I can tell you enough to give you all an idea.”

~    Heero was frozen in mid step right behind me, and I was confused at first.  Heero had been the one following me?  But....

    Then I saw it.

    The world around me had always been white since that song started playing in the background and I touched that thing that made me appear in Heero's arms.  But now, behind me, a wave of pure black, churning and burning shadows was practically flying it was coming so fast.  I swallowed and glanced at Heero out of panic.  It would hit him first!  I couldn't let the darkness get him....

    I started trying to move.  I used all the energy I had-from mental to physical-but I was still stuck.  Heero was staring intently at me, which only made me more nervous, but it didn't change anything. I loved Heero.  As stupid as it sounds, I had fallen in love with that dream Heero and also the real Heero somewhere along the line.  And even though this was just a figment of my imagination I couldn't let Heero get engulfed in that blackness.  I -couldn't-!

    As I was struggling to get free I slowly became aware of a sound coming from the white world around me.  It was very quiet, but in this world where suddenly there was no sound save the distant roar of a fast-approaching storm, it echoed deceivingly.  

    / Ooh dream weaver
    I believe you can get me through the night
    Ooh dream weaver
    I believe we can reach the morning light /

    The song made me stop.  Before, the song had just been strange.  Now, it sounded more like a funeral song than anything else.  Panicking, I started yanking at my invisible hold, pushing even more energy into it.

    / Though the dawn may be coming soon
    There still may be some time
    Fly me away to the bright side of the moon
    And meet me on the other side /

    Suddenly I heard a noise, I mean, a different noise.  Like glass shattering, or maybe even a thousand tiny little guns going off at once.  I looked around to see the white world around me ... crystallizing, I guess.  Like ice forming even as I watched. The song was still playing but it got quieter and suddenly cut off as if someone had closed some invisible door.

    I remember looking back at Heero in fear, but he wasn't where he had been.

    Now he was directly behind me.

    And his eyes shined with an unearthly red as he smirked smolderingly at me.

    I swallowed and went limp, but you'd never've known looking at me since I was still trapped in that invisible hold. The storm was almost on top of us... all I could see was a malignant wall of ... well, it felt like death... coming straight at me.  All I could hear was the sound of the wind as it billowed across the white world around me.  Thunder drowned out my heart, which was beating in overdrive by the way, and my other senses were blanketed by a feeling of such fear I thought I was going to faint.

    Suddenly I realized the storm wasn't only thundering... it was screaming.

    No, really.  I heard ... shit, I heard what sounded like little kids and elderly and everyone in between, female and male, and even some animals... all screaming... crying... sobbing and shouting... like... like someone was running a red hot poker directly over their souls as they were forced to watch everyone they had ever loved get massacred in front of them.

    Soul screams, I thought at the time.

    I had no idea how right I was.

    I looked back at Heero to see if he had gotten any closer, and suddenly `the shit hit the fan' so to speak.  The storm reached us and I was engulfed in a mad swirl of blackened soul-shattering screams and flaming hot shadows that scoured me all over but didn't leave a mark.  I closed my eyes, but not in time.  At the same moment the storm hit, I saw out of the corner of my eye Heero moving at me with lightning speed.  Immediately after Heero moved and the storm hit, I heard, above the shrieks, what sounded like the death cry of a mourning woman who had just lost all her children by her own hand.  My heart wrenched as the woman's death cry and the soul screams merged for an instant into one pure, desperate, all-encompassing wail that made my very soul shudder in mourning and fear.  I felt something inside me shift... I can't even describe it... as if what I had been could no longer exist as it had.  Suddenly I felt lighter and yet... weaker.  So much weaker.  Like I hadn't slept for decades, and all I had been doing is running in that time.  Like I hadn't eaten for years, or laughed or smiled in a century.  I felt lighter, yet weaker.  And, I felt... heavier.  I guess... it was like I suddenly had less substance, and that very thought made my soul cry leaden tears which made my very existence heavier.  And just when I thought nothing could get worse, Heero's hand gripped my shoulder painfully.  I was so distracted by the storm and my new existence I couldn't react.  The storm screamed louder, and the woman's death cry finally died away.  At the last second of her scream, Heero pulled me at him.  His grip was like acid ice, but instead of the sensation staying only in my shoulder it spread throughout my entire body until I was nothing but a ball of freezing, burning acid that ate away at my very mind.

    I screamed, and although I couldn't see him, I could feel Heero smirk.  And at that moment...

    At that moment, the white world collapsed.

    And I was falling.

    Falling into an oblivion I had a very strong feeling I would never get out of again. ~

    “The most important thing is this: I am the daughter of the man you'll want to kill.”

    Quatre gasped, eyes widening.  Heero and Trowa looked unaffected but seemed to be listening more intently now.

    Dori sighed regretfully  “The other important thing is this: simply by intending to explain I have alerted my father to our position.  Soon he will locate me and I won't be able to help you anymore.  So what I ask is that you all listen to me now, ask questions if there's time, and worry about being distrustful later.  This is the only thing I can do for all of you.  This... this is the only thing I can do for Duo.”

    Heero growled softly.  “Where is he?”

    Dori watched Heero levelly a moment before dropping her gaze to the floor.  “Centuries ago mankind became obsessed with the supernatural.  Old wives tales sprung up where nothing had been before.  People began to look at the stars or the moon and see mysterious beauty where before there was only a source of light.”  Trowa leaned against the wall while Quatre shifted until he was more comfortable.  Heero remained stiff and still.  After they were more comfortable, Dori stared at an indeterminate point on the floor and spoke in a voice that suddenly seemed older, and more wizened.

    “Around that time,” Dori murmured, “rose a tribe of people who worshipped the nether realm of the dreams.  They lived by symbols and spoke in song.  They slept more hours than they spent awake for they believed by partaking in the ultimate meditation they would prolong their lives.”  Dori's gaze suddenly caught each pilot's in turn.  “They would live forever.”  She went back to staring.

    “These people were from all over the world, before the world was split.  There is a theory that at one point the world was one huge continent called Pangaea that later split into Laurasia and Gondwanaland, which, in turn, became the Earth as we know it today.  It's true.  And these people, the Dreamers in an ancient tongue long since lost, were very prosperous.

    “When they Dreamed they saw a bit of the future, because they accessed more of their brains than the 10% we do anymore.  So, they were the only ones who knew before the world split that it was going to happen.  They scattered their tribe to the wind, a tribe member in each of the major countries of today.

    “As the world grew, so grew the Dreamers.  Some became advisors to leaders, some became kings, and some simply worked their magic from afar.”

    Quatre had his eyes closed as he let the words make the story play out in his mind.  Trowa frowned but Heero spoke first, “That didn't answer our questions.”

    Dori sighed.  “Each group of Dreamers has a leader, known as ... well, roughly translated, something along the lines of `Dreamweaver.'  Each Dreamweaver answers, in turn, to the leader of the entire Dreamer nation-the Sandman.”

    Quatre opened his eyes and frowned.  “I don't-“

    Dori held up a hand.  “Please, just listen.  When exploring the realms of the Dreams, the Dreamers discovered something frightening.  By harnessing the power of the Dreamworld, their spirits could indeed live forever, but their bodies couldn't.  Too much personal power transferred from the physical to the spiritual and mental, and their bodies withered faster than normal.  So they realized they needed something to replace the energy.”

    The three pilots watched her with varying emotions.  Narrowing her eyes, Dori spoke in a hardened tone.  “The Dreamers find victims.  They lure the person in by giving them dreams come true every night.  Even the strongest willed person breaks down when their own mind turns against them.”  Quatre winced at the thought.

    “After the victim is caught their body is taken to the Sandman's domain, where their spirit is trapped and their energy is stolen.”

    “How-?” Quatre began but Dori spoke over him.

    “The Dreamers force the victims to do what once we did.  The victim is trapped within their mind, their personal energy focused on the dreams because their heart can't give up the idea of peace and happiness.  As the energy of their lives drains it kills the body first.  Once the body dies the spirit usually would be free, but the Dreamers place talismans on the victims while they live still in body.  Usually this is a collar or a bracelet.  As the body decays the spirit and energy are pushed into these special talismans.  Until, when the body is ash, the spirit and soul are caught in the talisman for as long as the Dreamer maintains its magical balance.  The Dreamer, Dreamweaver, or Sandman then takes that talisman and wears it, restoring their own energy indefinitely-until the soul of the victim is exhausted and destroys itself.  For those religious people, there is no salvation for the victim.  There is only Hell.  Mindless, torturing Hell.”

    The room was silent after Dori stopped talking and even Heero looked affected by the tale.  Quatre watched Dori somberly. She looked very serious and almost as disturbed at the thought of the victim caught as he was sure he looked.  By the light of the flowing lava lamp he got a better look at her.  She was exactly as Duo had described within the few days before he disappeared, which was how Quatre knew it was her.  Still, he was surprised.  She had a feeling about her... a feeling of ancient, ancient power.  Almost as if the thought were a cue, light suddenly flashed on the circle within a star hanging on a chain around her neck.  Frowning, Quatre was about to question its significance when Heero interrupted his thoughts with a better question, “So why Duo and where is he?”

    Dori sighed regretfully. “The Dreamers discovered early on that the greater the innocence or younger the victim, the more the soul burned while alive and, more importantly, the more potent that burst of energy was.  Therefore they stole children, even babies, and used their lives for their own.

    “But then another tribe realized that the more hardships a person's been through, the longer they survive and thus more energy ultimately stolen.  My father vowed to find the perfect victims, and he has.”  She looked around but the pilots were frowning.  “You 5 Gundam pilots are perfect,” she explained, “You are children in age and thus burn brightly, but hardened soldiers in mind and thus longer lasting.  My father wanted to steal all your souls.”

    Stunned silence filled the room.  “So why didn't he?” Trowa asked after a moment.

    “Well, he did, in a way... or has begun to at least.  He stole one of you to use as bait and as a guinea pig so to speak.  If Duo's demise goes well, he will come after each of you.”  Before anyone could ask, Dori continued. “As for `why Duo?'... well, why not?  He was the easiest-his wish was simple.  Beyond that, he was good bait as each of you pilots care about him as a friend and are more likely to run after him thoughtlessly.  That is not to say you don't care about each other, but he is... more cared for, so to speak.

    “He also was a prime choice.  Heero, your deep innocence was ideal but your inability to accept it would have made it harder and longer to capture your soul enough for you to be helpful.  Trowa, your wishes are convoluted even within yourself and your calm nature may have combated the system too long.  Wufei is too preoccupied with justice, which is one of the harder wishes to grant, to be completely taken in as fast.”  Dori sighed.  “Duo... if Duo wasn't there... you would have been the victim, Quatre.  Your kindness is just what would burn the brightest, but you don't accept your darker sides and you aren't entirely sure what you want.  None of you really are.  But Duo knew.  And he was full of life... so full of life... and he was easy to catch since he was so obvious with his dreams.”

    Heero opened his mouth but Trowa beat him to the questioning.  “Why help us if the enemy is your father?”

    Dori scowled.  “He may be my father by blood but not by any other means.”  She sighed.  “I'm tired of seeing good people die for a selfish bastard like my father to live.  The Dreamers were a good people once,” she almost pleaded, “but they've turned ... well, evil for lack of a better word.  And... and I can't just let my peoples' souls turn to dust around them.  I have to help them...!”

    Trowa frowned, “And you just realized this?”

    Dori wiped some unfallen tears from her shimmering and mysterious eyes.  “I've thought this way for a long time now, but I finally decided it was necessary recently.  I guess... I guess I kept thinking it would change,” her voice dropped to a mild form of self-loathing and mournfulness, “You know?  That they'd suddenly see their wrongs and my father would give up.  That they would find their wings and fly....”  She looked at the ground with a profound look of depression.

    “Not likely,” Trowa replied evenly.

    Dori nodded unhappily.  “So I see.  Anyway, Duo is a lot like me I guess you could say, and his dream is mine, so I guess he was the last straw.”

    Quatre shook his head helplessly, unable to think with all this new information.  So many questions burned in his head but it was Heero who finally got to ask his question, “You said `was'.”

    Dori blinked.  “What?”

    Heero tightened a fist.  “You said Duo -was- full of life, and -was- easy to catch, and -was- obvious with his dreams.”

    Dori's gaze slid away from the pilots.  “Oh.  That.  Well....”

    Quatre leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on her knee.  “Dori... is Duo... dead...?”

    Dori shuddered slightly.  “He probably wishes he was.”

~    Falling debris hit me, making me spin in dizzying patterns.  The world around me shifted and blurred, but it was always black, harsh, and screaming.  And Heero's ice grip never let up.

    I think I screamed until my voice was raw, and screamed even more after that.  I can't describe any better what it was like other than... falling down an endless hole that was alive and breathing around you, full of tortured souls who shrieked for help and redemption even as they burned, surrounded by glass that ripped into you as you streaked into oblivion, with your very body full of an ice so cold it was hot, and an acid so strong it destroyed your very soul.  

    I wanted to die.

    And as I fell, as I nearly cried in pain, I suddenly heard a new sound, right by my ear.

    It was Heero...

    ...And he was laughing.

    I closed my eyes and let exhaustion slide over me, hoping against hope that I would disappear forevermore.  

    No such luck.  I don't know how much time passed, but suddenly I hit the bottom of the pit so hard I was surprised I wasn't completely smashed flat simply from the impact.  Bones cracked and popped, ripping through tissue and skin as easily as a hand moving through the air.  I screamed again but it was cut short by laughter.  I froze and looked over to find Heero crouched beside me.  Now the world was black... as black and cold as space.  I swallowed and risked a glance down.  My body looked perfectly normal... no bones out of place, not even any scratches.  But every move I made felt like shards of glass-covered bone were moving through my body.  I stayed completely still, sprawled on my stomach, willing myself to wake up.  I'd had enough of the dream shit.

    I couldn't wake up.

    I looked sharply over at Heero as if he would know why and now I'm not sure if I'm glad I did or not.  His eyes were glowing a malicious crimson that looked like neon blood.  I shuddered and looked away only to feel his breath near my ear.  It was hot and moist, reminding me of the dreams I -used- to have... when he would be my dream lover and caress my very soul.  I thought for a moment that everything would be fine... but I couldn't have been more wrong.

    “You like it hard, don't you, Duo?” Heero whispered tauntingly into my ear.

    I blinked.  “What?!”

    “You like it rough and painful, Duo, just like your life.”  Heero ran a soft hand down my cheek.  I swallowed, surprised to feel neither fire nor ice at his touch.

    “Not... I-I don't....” I stammered, unsure of how to respond.  

   In the end, it didn't matter anyway.

    Heero grabbed my wrist and jumped on my torso, yanking my braid up with his other hand.  I yelped, mostly from surprise but also largely from pain.  Heero pulled my braid taut, running a thumb thoughtfully over it. Out of nowhere he let go of my wrist and whipped a knife from his shoe.  Without any effort, the bastard ... shit, it pisses me off even now... he just... he cut off my braid. “What the fuck, Heero?!” I screamed, struggling against his weight as it sank in what he had just done.  He looked at my braid, smirked, and tossed it aside like it was some sort of god damned fucking GARBAGE!  I felt tears at my eyes as it disappeared into the darkness.  My head was too light... hair fanned against my ears where there was supposed to be the weight of a braid....  I swallowed and closed my eyes, willing to wake up, willing my hair back, SOMETHING.

    Suddenly Heero started laughing.  Almost immediately I felt something sharp and cold at my throat.  I opened my eyes to see Heero holding the knife tip to just above my collarbone, a very pleased and amused smirk on his face.  My vision filled with tears.  “You fucking bastard,” I hissed at him, trying not to cry.  My braid.  He cut off my braid.  I was still in shock.

    Heero leaned toward me with a slow burning smile.  “You're going to like what I'm going to do to you, Duo.  We all know how vocal you are.  I want to hear your screams, koi.”  He nearly purred as he spoke in a very sensual voice, directly above my lips.  I shuddered and closed my eyes, willing even more to wake up now.  Why wasn't it working?  Why couldn't I wake up?  Heero chuckled and he was so close his laugh actually vibrated through my body.  I was suddenly more aware of the razored bones moving in my body, and the knife tip at my throat.  “You won't wake up.  You'll never wake up again.”      I opened my eyes and stared back in shock.  How did he know what I was thinking...?  “Now, Duo, let me hear that sexy little voice of yours....”  I sensed more than saw him raise the blade high above me.... ~

    Quatre swallowed heavily.  “Dori... what...?”

    She sighed.  “Cressida.”

    Quatre blinked.  “What...?”

    Dori shook her head.  “My name.…  My name is really Cressida.”

    Surprised, Quatre couldn't think of a relevant response.  Neither could the others apparently since none of them spoke.  Dori-Cressida-cocked her head suddenly.  “I can grant you only one more favor.  My father is extremely close now, so you three have to leave.  But I can tell you this much: the key to the answers lies in symbolism.  Dreams are full of symbols and so are Dreamers.  Every clue you find, covet it.  But be very careful.  I highly suggest relocating immediately, and wear these.”  Dori reached behind her and picked up some things from near the lava lamp.  She tossed one to Heero and Trowa and three to Quatre.  Surprised, Quatre looked down at the necklaces, each very nondescript, simple chains that looked vaguely golden in the dim light.  “These are charms to protect you from Canowicakte.”

    “Who?” asked Quatre.

    Cressida frowned.  “My... father.  The... the current Sandman.  Now, it's extremely important that you put those on immediately and leave.”

    Heero eyed the necklace in his hand.  “How do we know these aren't the talismans you spoke of earlier?”

    Dori glared.  “You don't.  So trust me.”

    “I don't trust anyone but myself.”

    Dori growled in frustration at Heero's stubbornness.  “Fine.  Don't trust me.  Just follow my orders, for now.  You can always take it off later but I'm warning you that will only make you vulnerable to the Dreamers... and once you're found again they'll find all four of you and you'll never even get a chance to see Duo before he dies.”

    The three stiffened in surprise.  “What?” Heero growled.

    Dori closed her eyes in defeat.  “I'm sorry, but there's no hope for him.  He -will- die.  The only thing you can do for him now is stop the Dreamers and Sandman from taking anymore lives.  I'm sure he'd want that.”

    “But... but you....” Quatre protested, shocked.

    Dori raised any eyebrow.  “Put on the necklaces.  I never said anything about if he would live or not.  I just said this was all I could do for Duo, and that you three, and Wufei of course too, need to help him.”

    Three voices spoke at the same time.

    “But if he's going to die-“

    “Aren't there any cures-“

    “How is he going to die?”

    Dori shook her head.  “Enough.  I've already told you way too much.  You three are smart boys.  You've made it this far.  I was hoping Duo would crack the code of that card before it came to this, but at least his friends had the intelligence to try.  I couldn't just tell him everything right out because the Dreamers would have been alerted.  Since the Art of the Dreaming is such coveted knowledge, anytime it is spoken of, all Dreamers know instantly.  But only the Sandman can track down the culprit. Unfortunately, since I'm related to the Sandman, his tie is stronger to me and he will get here much earlier.

    “Now, put on those necklaces and leave.  Right now!  Before they arrive and everything I've done is useless.  Before Duo dies in vain.…  PLEASE!”

    In varying degrees of hesitation, the pilots of Heavyarms and Sandrock slipped the necklaces on.  Quatre looked at Cressida questioningly, who answered his unvoiced thoughts, “The other two are for Wufei and Duo.  It's probably too late for Duo but if it makes you feel any better....”  Dori shrugged.  Quatre slid his eyes closed and nodded mournfully.

    Pushing himself up, Quatre strode to the door, catching Trowa on the arm as he left.  “Let's go, everyone.  We need to get away before we're caught.”  His soft voice was filled with unshed tears.  Cressida smiled gratefully at him.  

   Trowa glanced meaningfully at Heero, who was staring intently at Dori still.  “One minute,” Trowa said softly as the two disappeared out the hallway.  Their voices faded into the distance as they strode away.

    Heero continued to glare at Cressida until she smiled.  “Yes, Heero?”

    “What does Somnium Recondo mean?”

    “It's the antidote.  You have one more question before I'll force you to go.”

    Heero raised an eyebrow at the answer but wasn't about to ask a useless question.  Instead, he asked the question that had been on his mind nearly since the conversation had begun.  “You kept referring to Duo's wish as simple and easy to complete. Then you said it was your own.”  Heero narrowed his eyes but inside he was fearful for some reason.  “What was his wish?” His voice never broke from its emotionless monotony.

    Cressida smiled regretfully.  “There are certain concepts that are easier to grant.  Justice is hard, because justice is different for everyone.  Peace is nearly impossible because even in the Dreamworld, unforeseen circumstances arise.  One of the easiest concepts to grant is the hardest to grasp in the real world....  Warn the others that they need to fight if they start to get their wishes granted when they sleep.  You should wake each other up every few hours, especially if you don't wear the necklace. Something else: the extreme emotions bring more energy.  If happiness is denied by the victim, the Dreamers can and WILL induce fear.  You should be fine... that is, if you wear the necklaces.”  She looked pointedly at the chain still grasped in his fist. Setting his jaw, realizing she wasn't going to answer until he wore it, Heero slowly slipped on the necklace.  The golden hue shined abruptly against his dark green tank top.  Cressida smiled gratefully, tears shimmering in her eyes.

    “What was his wish?” Heero repeated stoically.

    Cressida drew in a breath that she slowly let out.  The tears threatened to fall now as she spoke, in a soft whisper.  “Love, Heero.  He dreamt of being loved.”

    Heero knew he had asked his last question but he couldn't stop himself.  “Whose love?”

    Cressida watched Heero with large, mournful golden eyes that had a tinge of blue reminiscent of a warm, rainy summer day. Somehow the rainy tone made her look even more tired and sad.  “Anyone's,” she shrugged slightly with one shoulder, “Everyone's.”  She paused just long enough for Heero to form his next question, but she never allowed the words to fall from his lips.  “But if you're asking whose love drew him into the Dreamworld... if you're asking who he dreams of at night and who makes him smile when he looks like he wants to cry....”  Cressida looked out the door, her eyes unfocusing.  “If you're asking who he dreams of, Heero, it's you.  He dreams of you when his world is breaking; when he wants only to fall down and disappear.”  Cressida swallowed and caught Heero's eyes as she said the last words he ever heard from her.

    “If you're asking who he loves, Heero, it's you.  It's always been you.”

    Heero swallowed, holding back the tears he hadn't realized were there.

    Cressida was still calmly sitting in the darkened room when the Dreamers and Sandman arrived.  She smiled at him and bowed her head quite normally, and also quite casually stretched in the chair.  The Sandman looked around the room and frowned.

    “Where are they?” Cano asked his daughter.

    “Who?” she replied innocently.

    “You know damn well who I mean, Cressida,” he replied calmly.

    “And you know damn well I won't tell you anything,” she said with a small smile.

    Canowicakte watched her a moment before hmphing quietly.  “Very well.  If you refuse my blood, daughter, you know the result.”

    Cressida narrowed her eyes and said in a soft, venomous voice, “Don't even THINK of calling me daughter.  You never cared about me as a daughter... you always wanted another Dreamweaver, only one you could control more, that's all.  All you've ever cared about was yourself.  You killed Mom just so you could have more power, just because she didn't do everything you said immediately.”

    Cano raised his eyebrows.  “Come now, Cressida dear, you know very well she lives.”  He held up a large silver necklace with a swirling blue stone on the end.  “She lives forever.”

    “No, you bastard, she's STUCK forever!  She doesn't live!  She exists in Hell!”  Cressida leaned forward suddenly, as if she was about to lunge at him.  He frowned and glanced at one of the businessmen who walked in with him.  The man immediately shot Cressida dutifully in the arm with his gun.  She fell back with a hiss, holding her arm with a glare.  

   Cano frowned when he noticed the lack of evidence of her recent extreme beating.  “You healed yourself already?  How annoying.  I tried to teach you a lesson, Cressida.  Your powers are such a nuisance sometimes.”

    “Not to me,” she smirked back at him.  “Power over the mind is very helpful.  Especially when it protects my mind from yours.”

    Cano sighed like a parent telling his child the same thing for the tenth time in a few minutes.  “Cressida, there you go again, trying to taunt me.  Well, I think it's time we taught you a real lesson.”  He held his hand out to the man that shot Cressida the first time.  The man handed the gun over immediately, staring straight ahead the whole time.  Cressida's eyes followed the movement of the gun from the Dreamer to the Sandman.  She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and thinking desperately, <PLEASE stop him, guys...!  You're my only hope... you're everyone's only hope....>

    Cano frowned and commented off-handedly, “Not even going to witness your own demise?  How cowardly of you.”

    Cressida opened her eyes to glare at him just in time to see a Dreamer approach her with something in his hand.  “There's a good girl,” Cano cooed.  Before she could understand what the Dreamer was doing she was shot three times in the torso and twice in the head.  Her body fell limply against the chair she rested in, leaving a trail of muted crimson to drain to the floor.  The dark swirls of blood mixed strangely with the convoluted shadows the lava lamp threw across the room.  A random beam of light glanced off Cressida's face frozen forever in the same expression.

    A frightened yet very determined smile.

    Her mysterious golden brown/dark blue eyes were now nearly black with the lack of life sparking behind them.  Her body slowly withered and suddenly fell to ash.  The blood seeped calmly into the chair, outlining the ash in the form of what looked suspiciously like a young female body.  

   Something silver clinked to the ground, falling into the blood and slowly getting drowned.  In the dim lighting, the silver pentagram necklace was covered with a thin film of thick crimson blood.  Beside it fell a very long chestnut strand of hair, wrapped around itself as if it had been on a girl's hand or wrist and somehow fell away.  Lazily floating down, the strand of hair soaked into the blood and rested lightly on the side of the pentagram necklace.  

    Neither the Dreamers nor the Sandman noticed when the necklace sparked suddenly and it and the strand disappeared into nothingness.  

    Calmly ignoring the blood, Cano directed some things to be cleaned and others to be destroyed.  The people left as calmly as they came, only a few stray marks of blood showing anything at all had happened.

    Continuing its mesmerizing dance, the lava lamp waited for someone to sit by it and enjoy its ancient light, the endless patterns it could produce with just a little bit of wax and water and heat.  Sadly, no one ever came to smile and watch it, like the girl did.

    The girl... the kind girl who used to smile and laugh at the lava lamp and watch it for hours on end, naming each shape as it was created.

    A little girl's voice seemed to echo in the room.  “Dog!” she cried happily, giggling.  “Car...  heart... person....”

    The little girl who used to care so much.

    The little girl with the strange eyes.

    The little girl who would never return.

    Cressida.

~    So....

    Have you ever had one of those dreams?  I mean one of THOSE dreams that are so incredibly real you know it has to be fake?  Where everywhere you turn the details are almost scoured into your brain.  You remember life outside the dream only if you concentrate, but that is little consolation since real life matters are irrelevant here.

    Sometimes when you turn there are weird transitions that lead you onto incredibly new and strange adventures.  Sometimes you don't even have to move... the world moves for you.  It twitches and pours, molds and forms itself until you're somewhere else; until you can't even remember where you started.

    So, have you?  Had one of those dreams, I mean.  I only ask because I've been having them for awhile now.

    In fact, if you want to get technical, I'm having one right now.

    Yeah, and the funniest thing is: -I. Can't. Leave.-  ~

~Owari~

Darkest Emotion

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