The face of his dreams…the face of his nightmares

He can see the reflection of the fire in her eyes. The flickering pattern dancing over her face. She is so close he can almost feel her without touching her. Like back then, when they were kids, through the glass. He can smell her scent, sweet and musky, that is so uniquely hers. Her usually ice blue eyes have turned into a darker shade, looking warmly at him, as if melted by the open fire in the background. They are staring into his very soul. Although he desperately wants to look at her closer coming lips, he doesn’t dare to break the eye contact; afraid that if he does the moment will be spoiled and gone forever. His heart is beating hard in his chest, his head swimming, overwhelmed by the feeling of her breath on his face, so close to him…God she is so close. Only a few more millimetres and he can finally do what he has been wishing, hoping for since their first kiss as children. He still remembers the softness of her lips, has never stopped thinking about it. She smells so good. He feels the heat rushing up to his head, veins pumping blood at increased speed, making him deaf. He is oblivious to everything around him; all his senses are focused on her. His lips are tingling with apprehension.

When he finally feels the softness of her lips brushing against his own, he can all but suppress the cry of happiness and relieve that threatens to escape is throat.

The touch is as light as a feather, almost bashful. He doesn’t want to push her, afraid that he will pay for a bald move in the end. However, all those years of waiting and unbearable abstinence have taken their toll on him. He cannot restrain himself any longer. So he slightly pushes is face towards hers, gently pressing his lips on hers. She does not pull back, and he has not ended up with a fist in his face….yet. He takes his time, relishes in the feeling of her warm lips. They are as soft as he remembered, although something has changed. They are fuller, more sensual, teasing him, making him crave for more. Or maybe it is just the fact that they are not children anymore, a small voice in the back of his head reminds him. He does not care. All he cares about is her touch while her mouth covers his, leaning into the kiss. His blood is rushing quicker through his veins, making his head spin. His need is getting stronger by the second and although he is afraid to be too daring, he slightly opens his mouth, gently probing the tip of his tongue against her lips. When they open and her warm, wet tongue meets his, he is sure that his brain just short-circuited. He sharply inhales as the touch sends small, tingling shockwaves through his body. Moaning into her mouth he cups her face with his hand. God, she feels so good. He is never going to let her go. His feels not only his blood pressure rising as she leans in even closer…into the kiss…into him.

Suddenly his ears make out a rhythmic sound that does not fit the scene. A *click clack* that keeps getting faster, coming closer. A foreboding settles in his guts while he realizes that something about this whole scene seems out of place. He has been here before with her next to him, lips coming closer. However, the outcome was different.

The rhythmic sound gets louder and when he opens his eyes he sees the fireplace turning black and the space behind her getting blurry. With a pang he realizes that this is not the reality and…he awakens with a start.

His eyes stare at a plain ceiling. A frustrated groan escapes his lips as he realizes that he has dreamed of her again! A sweet dream with promising things yet to follow. He closes his eyes, not yet ready to deal with the harsh reality. A reality where she rejected him left him alone in his sorrow.

He can still taste her lips, her tongue gliding over his; can still feel her body pressing against him; can still smell her. His body’s reaction is immediate and he lets out an even louder frustrated groan when he feels his arousal pressing against his jeans.

Then all of a sudden the door to his room flies open with a loud *bang*. He watches in shock as a slender form with long legs on stilettos storms into the room. His mind works at high speed, quickly combining that the rhythmic sound from before must have been coming from the heel of her shoes. Before he can so much as move a muscle she is on top of him, grabbing his wrists and handcuffing him to the bed frame above his head. A feeling of déjà-vu washes over him, with the woman on top being blonde. However the crucial difference to the situation then, is that he had the upper hand, knowing they were coming for him…plus he did not have a highly erotic dream shortly before that incident with the exact same person straddling him. He is still dizzy from sleeping, not sure whether he is scared to death to see her on top of him, or whether his dreams are coming true.

Quickly he decides that it is the former. In horror he stares at the barrel of her gun pointing right in between his eyes. Her face is the cold, hard image of his huntress. Completely different from the soft one he was holding in between his hands mere seconds ago. There is nothing to be seen of the warm dark blue orbs he longingly stared into. All he sees now is ice, Daddy’s well trained huntress, and a chill runs down his spine.

His will of freedom starts to set in and he tries to kick her off by buckling his hips, but she just presses herself more firmly onto him, pinning him down onto the bed. He is panicking now. He does not want her to feel the hardened evidence from his dream with her.  

“Sit still lab rat, or I’ll shoot you’re genius’ brains out!” her voice is a low, menacing hiss and for the first time in years he actually believes that she means it.

His throat tightens with fear as he realizes that this could be it. This could be his last time in freedom, and even worse, this could be that last time he sees her…feels her. He pleadingly looks into her eyes, trying to find some emotion in them…some mercy. But her face stays a mask of granite, while her eyes blaze with a cold fire. Her voice sounds unrelenting through the night as her legs tighten her grip around him. The sound of her leather pants creaking reaches his ears.

 “Time to come home Jarod!”

With a start, he awakens; sitting up in bed, a short scream escapes his mouth. His hands try to shield him from the nightmarish creature that was on top of him just seconds ago. But he is alone, slowly realizing that it was only a dream. His heart is pumping hard in his chest his breathing is uneven and fast. He takes in his surroundings, alert; making sure it really was just a dream …a nightmare. He puts up his hand to cover his damp face. His whole body is covered in cold sweat. Trembling, he turns to sit on the side of his bed, trying to steady his legs by putting his feet on the ground. A quick look at the clock tells him that it’s 4am in the night. It has happened again.

The sounds of the night come through the closed window. Sounds of empty streets with a few lost people on them, trying to find their happiness in the next bottle of scotch. Distant wheels are screeching and ambulance sirens are rushing from one place to the next. Sitting alone in his cold, shabby room he has been calling ‘home’ for the past few days, he tries to get his breathing under control. But he knows from experience that it will take much more time to recover from this dream, this nightmare. Although he is not sure what the actual nightmare is: The probability that the nightmare could become reality one day, or the probability that the dream never could.

A shaky sigh leaves his body. It is not the first time this has happened. He does not even remember how often he has had those dreams turned nightmares, but he knows it all started after Carthis.

He shakes his head, trying to shake off the feeling of panic. He can still hear her soulless words in his head. A trembling hand moves through his hair in a frustrated gesture. How did he end up like this? How could he let it happen that the one face his sweetest most cherished dreams were about became the face of his worst nightmares?

During the past months he has slowly gone crazy, a balancing act at the edge of insanity. For the first time he doesn’t know what to do anymore. The fine line between reality and dream is blurring. Frustration about having been so close and yet being further away from her than ever is eating his guts from inside out.

The worst part is the desperation…oh the desperation. The desperation in his eyes when he pleaded with her, back in the limo, the desperation at wanting her to fight with him, to get any reaction form her, the desperation at not knowing how to make her see that this is real between them, that this could work, the desperation at what on earth he is going to do. The desperation about not knowing what is right and what is real anymore.

The rules of the game have been changed. They have been spiced up with a sick twist.

SIMing is futile. He just is not able figure this one out…to figure her out. He has no clue as to how she will react to him in the future, who she will choose to be in the future. Does she even have a say in the matter anymore?

Sad, brown eyes stay fixed on the small hole in the ground, trying to find some balance, even if it is just of the physical kind.

How on earth is he ever going to know which face he is looking at when he is seeing her the next time? The face of his dreams…or the face of his nightmares?

Deciding that there is only one way to find out, he gets up, washes his face, packs his few belongings and leaves into the cold night’s air, heading straight to a certain city somewhere in the First State.