The Prize of Dysprosium

Chapter XXII: The Voice in My Head is Kinder Than Me

In my dream, Garmen is standing in front of me. She's more a ghost now than a corpse, more transparent than sickeningly pale. Her eyes and mouth are still holes morphing around in her face.

"Why aren't you doing it!" she screams at me like a wild banshee.

"What?" I ask frantically. I'm not even human in this dream, just a blob of something intangible completely at her mercy.

"I told you to do it!" she screeches. "Why aren't you doing it?!"

"I don't know what you want me to do!" I cry out. She screams again and surges towards me.

My eyes fly open. It's dark as a black hole and it's crushing me so hard I can't breathe. I kick something and begin reaching up and tearing at my own chest which is squeezing my windpipes, my feet are tangled in something and I can't get them loose. I'm drowning without water.

"Noah!" I hear a voice, Anton's voice, and then strong hands are holding me down. "Noah! Stop fighting, you have to breathe."

I make a gurgling sound form the back of my throat and kick out, reaching to get myself out of whatever it is keeping my chest restrained.

"Get it off me," I howl as loud as I can without air. "Get it off me!"

"The coveralls?" Anton says and next now my wrists are released and somebody is unbuttoning the coveralls and zipping them down. I heave for breath as the layer is peeled off me and try to remember exactly what I was supposed to do. Inhale, hold my breath, exhale. I stumble over it a few times but by the time my lungs have caught on my heart is already calming down. It can't be anxiety this thing, it has to be either panic attacks or heart attacks. I'm dying all the time it seems, but I can't seem to do even that properly.

"Noah," Anton says again and brushes sweaty locks of blue away from my face as I find my breath again. He is outlined in the darkness above me, all worry. I begin being able to see the freckles adorning his nose in the darkness, and the fact that he has crumbs around his mouth. "I'm going to ask Dr. Max for something calming in the morning," he says and keeps brushing sweat off my forehead with cool hands. "Maybe that'll take away the nightmares."

"No," I say and swallow. My throat is so dry it hurts. "I can't, I can't take anything."

"Why not?" Anton asks. "Are you allergic or something? I'm sure he has something you're not allergic to."

"No," I shake my head. "I'm an addict Anton. Or was. I got clean, but I almost died doing it. I can't risk taking anything."

"Oh," Anton says. "Well you could have told me that. I could have helped."

If only he knew how much he helps by just being here.

"You are," I rasp and grab his face to kiss him frantically, as if I can only breathe through him. "God, you are helping."

"Noah," Anton says against my mouth. I feel him instantly respond, but he's fighting the urge, pulling away. "We can't."

"Why not?" I demand and pull both of my arms around him.

"We are in a bunker," he mumbles through my lips, but he's losing his standpoint – I can feel it. Especially when I begin kissing his jaw and down his throat. "There's a revolution going on," he moans. "Noah."

"There's a revolution going on," I growl as I tear myself away from his skin and make him look at me. I must look positively wild, sweaty, near-naked and half-crazed from bad dreams. Anton's breath comes in rags and he looks all about ready to give me exactly what I want. "Please?" I say. He glances down at my mouth once and then he's lost. Surging forward to kiss me again as wildly as I've just kissed him, passionately, all-consuming. I open his coveralls with fumbling fingers and rip them off of him, craving the touch of his bare skin. It joins the floor with the pillows, forgotten in the small universe we've managed to create, where the only thing we know of is each other. Anton gasps as I let my hands travel over his chest. He's already turned on, frantic and trembling to get closer to me. I kick off the last of my sweaty prison of a uniform and reaches down to grab him. His hands find me without hesitation, following my lead. He moans and I gasp. Our sounds mix intangibly and so do our bodies until I don't know where I end and he begins. My hands and his are both ceaseless, moving against each other as if there's nothing else keeping us alive. I grab Anton's neck and drag him down to kiss me again, crushing his lips against mine in an unsatisfiable want. And we disappear into the night, accompanied by gasps and the grate of teeth against throats.

Afterwards we're both lying naked, pressed against each other with a sticky mix of salt and sweet sliding across our bellies. Anton's breathing is deep and calm and he's only shaking a little, whereas I've gone in complete trance over his hair and freckles. The room is humid from our breathing and we are only wearing half a sheet as a blanket.

"What was that?" Anton asks. "What was it that made you so...?" he trails off in a low, husky voice, breaking off my trance. I smile at him.

"Horny?" I venture, and Anton literally blushes in the darkness which is insanely cute. I take a breath and keep my eyes fastened on the top of his head. "It was just a bad dream. That's all. It just made me realize how much I don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me," he mumbles. "Was that what your nightmare was about?"

"Not exactly," I grimace. "I dreamt about Garmen. Her ghost basically told me I've failed her. She wants me to do something and I have no idea what."

"That... sucks," Anton blurts out and I give off a loud laugh which seems way out of place in our magically muted bubble. 'that sucks' is such a vague sentence, but it sums up my feelings perfectly.

"I agree," I say. "It totally sucks."

Anton nuzzles against my neck with the tip of his nose and looks at me with eyes older than his years. "You really miss her, don't you?" he whispers.

"Yes," I croak and fight the water welling up in my eyes, but it's a silent cry not betrayed by sounds. "I can't lose you too."

"Is that why you never let go of my hand?" Anton asks with a sudden cheeky grin.

"What?" I say. "I don't always hold your hand."

"You totally do," he laughs. "You've become quite possessive actually."

"I'm not possessive!"

"Don't worry, I think it's sweet," Anton says. "I don't mind."

Is he right? I try to remember the last time I wasn't glued to him. There was a short stretch as Dr. Max checked out my nose and he went home, and then when Ridder drove me here and I had a full-fledged panic/anxiety attack until he was in my arms again. Am I somehow overcompensating? The last time I let Garmen out of my sight she died, am I trying to attach myself to Anton to make sure nothing bad happens to him? It's a slightly ironic idea because I'd never pegged myself, a prostitute bought and sold as an object for a big part of my life, would ever become possessive of someone else.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely. "I don't mean to be so controlling."

"It's not controlling," Anton assures me and touches my lips with his thumb. "Remember, I grew up with a dad who didn't have time for me. I don't mind being spoiled with attention now and then, especially when it comes from you."

I don't have anything to answer that, so I just nod and let my eyes fall shut again as I drift off to what is hopefully a sleep without nightmares.

In my dream, I'm watching Mafalda in the meadow. Nothing happens except she takes a deep slurp of her tea and exhales. If I wasn't so relieved that it's not another nightmare I might have thought it was boring.