Bridging Destinies

Chapter 57: A Dream to Nightmare

In the rare sleep that I had experienced over the centuries of my lifetime, I had rarely enjoyed dreams and yet as I slept beside Namjoon, my mind slipped into a dream state. We were together, sitting on a blanket under a great oak tree. The tree was in full leaf, and nearby a river sent the sounds of its essence singing into our ears. I sat against the tree, leaning, as the bark gently scratched my back with each subtle movement, its roughness a reminder of solidity. Namjoon's head rested in my lap as he stared up at the leaves, sunlight flowing through the green, making jewels of the chloroform that was its life's blood. My fingers moved through his hair, appreciating the softness, and I hummed softly in accordance with the sound of water in the air. Namjoon looked up at me from his supine position, studying my neck and the line of my jaw. I looked down at him, sensing a question, my own face mirroring his, "What is it, Joonah?"

Namjoon licked his lips and spoke sparingly, "Is this a dream?"

I looked from him to the nature surrounding us and smiled softly, "It may be. Shall I pinch you to find out?" I asked him with a grin, my eyes twinkling down at him.

Sitting up quickly, he laughed, "No. I don't need proof." He considered his next words as he shifted to lean back against the tree trunk next to me, "If it is a dream, I don't think it's the first time. I have seen you in them. I mean, I have seen you in my dreams before. This feels as real as the other times I dreamed of you."

I took his hand in mine, threading my fingers with his, "You are very astute. I have entered your dreams before, but this..." I paused, "I did not have anything to do with it. If we are in each other's dreams, I did not intend it. Yet I am glad we are here." I said to him, turning my face to his to gaze at him. He turned his head as well and as our eyes met, we both smiled.

I shifted against his side and laid my head on his shoulder. With my movement, he joined in accordance with me, placing his arm around my shoulders, offering his chest, as well as his shoulder for me to rest on. With a contented smile, I settled in, as we fell into silence. A gentle breeze brought the scent of pines, flowers and earth to my nostrils, and I took a deep breath in pleasure. "This reminds me of a place near my home. It looks very like it." I murmured, as I stared out at the verdant space before me.

"It's beautiful." Namjoon responded after a brief pause to reflect. He peered down at me and kissed my temple. As he did so, he whispered against my skin, "And so are you. I wish I could see you there, in your home, and not just in dreams."

Sighing softly, I squeezed his hand, as if both agreeing and comforting him. I whispered, "Me too." We both fell back into silence, enjoying the dream space and each other's presence.

As is the way of dreams, the sequences of each action seemed to go on eternally, a sense of timelessness pervading the encounter. With a deep breath Namjoon allowed his next question to pierce the air, "I'm afraid it won't last. This romance."

I sat up fully and turned my body to face him, "What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, knowing what was coming.

"I mean," Namjoon spoke again, "I am afraid that after what has happened, you will disappear. That you won't be able to stay with me."

I looked down at the summer dress I wore, and spotted the tell tale sign of blood seeping through the material. I stared back at Namjoon, "Oh." I spoke with surprise, "You may be right." I touched the blood on my dress, feeling the wet warmth and looked at him with wide eyes, "You may be very right." I repeated, "I'm not sure it will be allowed anymore." I held my stomach as he stared at me with wide eyes, and then disappeared from the dream. With his disappearance, I woke up to find him sitting up beside me in bed, running his fingers through his hair as if to cleanse himself of the horror of seeing my blood again. He saw I was awake and pulled the covers back, along with my shirt, to check my bandages. No blood oozed through the dressing and he let out the breath he held in relief.

Tenderly, he touched the material over where the wounds were hidden and looked into my countenance. He reached up a hand to touch my face, and I closed my eyes in pleasure at the touch, then looked back into his eyes. He mumbled, "You may be glowing with your natural look, but you still don't look well to me." He traced his fingers lightly through my hair, "How do you feel?"

"I am not dying, but you are right, I do not feel my best. Is there more water?" I asked him, my voice dry and parched. The bag of saline at the side of the bed helped, but I was still thirsty.

Wordlessly, he turned and poured more water for me into the glass that had been left on the bedside table, then he helped me to sit up so that I could drink from the glass, which he held. When I was finished he set the glass beside the now cold cup of coffee, then turned back towards me to help me lay back down. He settled in beside me, gathering me carefully into his arms. Quietly he voiced, "I was dreaming of you."

"I know." I responded and he paused in his breathing, then resumed it again.

"So it's real." He stated and with my silence he had his answer. He began to stroke my hair, running his fingers through it, removing tangles as he did so. Before we were able to speak again of the dream, a knock was heard at our door and a head poked through to examine both of us.

Namjoon adjusted himself in the bed, careful of my wounds, and stared back at the man who opened the door wider, standing in the middle of the portal, "What is it, hyung?" He asked.

Yoongi walked further into the room, Namjoon's phone in his hand, "Two things. One, Sejin is on the phone. We told him you were sick and he wanted to check on you. Second, Jin made lunch, and you should eat. Maybe even shower and clean yourself up." Yoongi glanced at Namjoon's bare chest which was spattered with flakes of dried blood from the night before.

Looking down at his chest, as he followed Yoongi's line of sight, Namjoon rubbed at his skin and nodded, "Right. I guess that would be a good idea and business calls." Namjoon held his hand out for the phone that was in Yoongi's hand, when his stomach chose the same moment to growl, evidence of his hunger. Yoongi placed the phone in Namjoon's hand with lifted brows, silently speaking his opinion loudly for both of us to see. With chagrin, Namjoon stirred, adjusting my body, and looked at me, "Will you be okay?" He asked.

Carefully, I moved myself from Namjoon's body, as I gently pushed him away from me. I winced at the movement, as the stitches in my side and stomach adjusted, but shook my head lightly as if to say I was fine, despite the pain. I answered, attempting to reassure him, "Yes. Go speak with your manager and clean up and eat."

He looked at me askance and asked, "Are you sure? I can stay. Yoongi can bring me food." He suggested, and glanced at Yoongi.

Interjecting, Yoongi stated, "I think it's actually better if you clean up and eat. You need a change of scenery." Namjoon narrowed his eyes at Yoongi briefly, glaring faintly. Yoongi simply stared back at him, not caving into Namjoon's irritation.

"You could have someone else come and sit with me, Joonah, if you are worried." I proposed, "I only need to rest for now and there's not much you can do for me while I do."

Namjoon considered my words, then relaxed into a sense of compliance, "Fine." He agreed, pointing his finger at me sternly, "But if you need me, have one of the guys let me know."

I laughed softly at his concerned authority and twitched with the pain, "Don't make me laugh, Jagiya. It hurts." I told him, holding my stomach, "But I promise I will let you know."

He grimaced and leaned towards me to kiss my forehead, "Good. I love you and I'm worried, so keep your promise." He said against my skin, then withdrew from the bed. As I watched him leave, un-muting the phone and putting it to his ear, I contemplated the dream and his questions, and the likelihood of the future that waited for us. I was uncertain what would happen, but I was afraid of the mandate I was likely to receive once my people came for me. I didn't know if there was much I could do, but I hoped we could continue as we had before, yet I was leery of the potentials, refusing to look at the paths. I certainly didn't feel so well as to exert myself to do so, either. The poisoning of the metal still coursed through my blood, though it had lessened some. I would be well soon enough without the aid of my people, but I knew they would hasten it. I suspected that they were coming to take me home as much as to heal me, and I did not look forward to our reunion.