Listen To The Silence by Sheryl

Chapter 2

...knuckle deep within the borderline...
this might hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to.

Warm hands caress the sides of his face, and he looks up, pale eyes gazing with rapt wonder into another set, so dark they appear almost pupilless, holes in an otherswise beautiful face. He steps back, the softness of the hands falling away from his cheeks. "How did I get here?" His voice is soft, shaky, the knowledge, hidden deep inside not allowed yet to surface.

The man looks into his eyes, smiling a little, reaching once more to touch him, his touch imparting more knowlege than warmth.
"I called you."

Brow creased, he frowns, looking into the face of his friend.
"I left. You promised to let me."
Indignation in his tone, he takes in his surroundings, the grimy table, colorless walls, blurry surreal distortion of his sight warping and twisting everything he looks at.
"You promised to leave me alone."
He pulls away again, refusing the memories that touch has stimulated, the flashes of faces and words, friends and enemies, loved and hated.
"I don't want to be here, Jordan, why did you call me?"

Jordan, dark eyes glittering with remorse, drops his hands, breaking contact.
"It's more than I can tell you now, I can show you some, I don't want to make you sick."

"You know I won't get sick. Am I dreaming Jordan?"

The idea appeals, suddenly, yes. A dream. Safe, no risk, just a dream. He'll wake up soon, cold and wet with dew, to crawl inside to his bed, yes. Just a dream. Not a dream. He knows it, and his eyes wander the face of his friend, a rush of love suddenly overtaking him.

"You know the answer to that, don't you?"
"I do... Jordan tell me, it's hard for me to stay here, it hurts..." It does hurt, the effort cramping his very soul, straining abilities too long dormant. Jordan is right, he will be sick if he doesn't stop soon. The power of the mind to take him thousands of miles away, weak and hesitant, he can see Jordan flickering, hear the man speaking. Numbers. What is that?

"You'll remember in the morning. Call me when you wake up. On the phone." His mile is gentle. "I need you, you have to know that, or I never would have done this."

He nods, he does know. Feels the touch of his friend's hand on his face once more, and drifts, drifts into dreams of no color, and no consequence.

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