Steven Harper - Dreamer

A falling sensation. Kendi flailed about, but he felt nothing, saw nothing. A scream tried to tear itself from his throat, but he didn’t have a throat.

Abruptly he was looking at a misty gray thing. Kendi didn’t move. After a moment, the gray thing resolved itself into the ceiling in his quarters. He was lying on his bed. The position was a bit disconcerting-usually he came out of the Dream with his spear propped solidly under his knee. He felt disoriented and dizzy.

A head moved into his field of vision. Worried blue eyes looked down at him from beneath tousled red hair.

“Ben?” Kendi asked, and noticed his mouth was dry as Outback sand. Disorientation made his mind wander like the needle on a dropped compass. He needed something solid to hold onto, something to bring him back to earth. Without thinking he reached up a hand and touched Ben’s cheek. It was warm and slightly raspy. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to do that, though he couldn’t remember why. He pulled his hand back, feeling foolish.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked, ignoring Kendi’s gesture.

“Thirsty,” he croaked.

Ben left and returned with a glass of water. He helped Kendi to a sitting position. Kendi felt the quiet strength in Ben’s arm and, sighing, let himself lean against the other man. The room settled a bit. Ben was solid, reassuring, unlike the changeable Dream. Oddly, Ben didn’t pull away. Kendi’s unfocused mind tried to analyze the situation for a moment, then gave up and just drank in Ben’s presence. They sat there on the bed, Ben’s arm encircling Kendi’s back and chest. Kendi could feel Ben’s breathing. Thirst burned in Kendi’s throat and he knew he should check on Sejal, but he didn’t want to move and lose Ben’s embrace. Eventually thirst drove him to reach for the water, but his hands were clumsy. Ben held the glass and helped him drink. Kendi concentrated on the physical sensation of the cool water slipping down his throat, and his focus slowly returned. Briefly he considered playing up the muzziness to keep Ben’s arm around him, then discarded the idea. He didn’t like lying to Ben, even in that small way.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m okay now.”

As Kendi expected, Ben moved away, though he didn’t get off the bed. He turned sideways to face Kendi. Kendi could still feel the warm stripe of Ben’s body heat on his back and side.

“What happened to you?” Ben asked, his voice carefully neutral. For a third time, Kendi explained. As he spoke, it dawned on him that this was an historical event. No one had ever been pulled into the Dream like this. It would probably be best to write a report or something so other people could read it or he’d end up repeating it even on his deathbed. The Grandparent Adepts back on Bellerophon would certainly want the details, and Kendi should record them before they faded even from Kendi’s trained memory.

“Kendi, do you hear me?” came Harenn’s voice from the intercom as he finished.

“I’m here,” he said. “And even in one piece. Are you with Sejal?”

“Yes. He woke up a few minutes ago, so I am assuming Mother Ara and the others showed him how to exit the Dream. Physically he seems to be fine.”

“Thanks,” Kendi said, relieved. “I’ll come down and check on him as soon as I can. Peggy-Sue, close intercom.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Can you stand up?” Ben asked.

“I don’t want to try yet,” Kendi said. “I don’t know why I’m so…off-balance. I shouldn’t be.”

“Psychosomatics?” Ben hazarded. “You usually use drugs to reach the Dream, but this time you didn’t. Something’s different, so you figure you should be off-kilter and that means you are.”

“Maybe.” Kendi inhaled deeply, exhaled hard, experimentally waved a hand in front of his face. Everything seemed to be working all right, but his knees felt a little weak. “Thanks for coming by. I really appreciate it.”

Ben shrugged. Another moment of silence passed.

“Ben-” Kendi began.

“No, Kendi.”

Kendi started to protest, then halted. He looked away, his jaw working in and out. His throat felt tight. He dropped his eyes and picked at the bedspread.

“You promised we’d talk later,” Kendi said softly. “It’s later, Ben. I know you still…care. I can tell. So tell me why you made me leave.”

Ben remained stonily mute, though he made no move to get up. Kendi didn’t look at Ben’s face, afraid Ben would bolt if he did, though he could see Ben’s hands resting on his crossed legs.

“Is it something to do with Ara?” he asked. “Something she said?”

No answer.

“Have you found someone else?” This question was hard to ask, and Kendi kept his eyes down.

Still no answer. Small relief.

“Is it because I’m a Child of Irfan?”

One hand made a shrugging motion.

“You don’t like that I’m a Child?”

Smaller shrugging motion.

A knot grew in Kendi’s stomach, but he said the words. “Ben, if you asked me to, I’d leave the-”

“No you wouldn’t,” Ben interrupted, and this time Kendi did look up. Ben’s blue eyes were flat, and a thread of anger touched Kendi.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

Ben exhaled sharply. “Look Kendi, do you know why I work for the Children? Even though I’m not Silent?”

“Because your mother’s an Ad-” Kendi started, then stopped. “You’re going to say that’s not the reason why.”

“You’re right.” Ben licked his lips. “Have you got any idea what it’s like growing up the only non-Silent member of a Silent family?”

Kendi mutely shook his head.

“It means you’re alone a lot.” Ben’s blue eyes drifted. “Mom was always running here and there, tracking down or saving Silent. Nana and Papa were busy, too, even though they’re supposed to be semi-retired. Aunt Sil and Uncle Hazid and my cousins-they’re all Silent. I’m the outsider. The freak who can’t reach the Dream.”

Kendi grabbed Ben’s pale hand with his dark one. “Hey-you aren’t a freak. If anything, the Silent are freaks.”

“Not in my family,” Ben said bitterly. “When we were younger, my cousins made fun of me behind the adults’ backs. My aunt and uncle and grandparents treated me like I was semi-retarded or something. When I got older, my cousins looked-still look-at me with pity or contempt. They’re always in the Dream or planning their next trip into it. Mom, too.”

Kendi realized Ben hadn’t pulled his hand away and took it as a good sign. “So why work for the Children?”

“At least this way I can do something. You want a computer hacked? An engine repaired? A ship piloted? I’m your man. You want a Dream, call someone who counts.”

“You count to me,” Kendi said seriously. “And you count to your mom. I love you and need you, Ben. You keep me grounded in the real world. You stay serious when I get stupid.”

“I can’t follow you, Kendi,” Ben said in a flat voice. “The Dream calls and you have to answer. So does Mom and everyone else.”

“And you think you can’t compete,” Kendi finished with sudden insight. “Ben, that’s bullshit. You’re more important to me than-”

“It doesn’t matter, Kendi,” Ben said. He set Kendi’s hand aside. “I can’t wait for you on the sidelines. I won’t be the spouse who waits for you to come home from something I can’t understand.”

Ben got up and started for the door, leaving an empty space on the bed. Kendi’s stomach lurched. He knew that once Ben walked through that door that any hope of a future with him would end. He wanted to grab Ben, snatch him back and hold him. The yearning filled him until it was a physical pain. The door slid open.