Dreaming the twist in the tale

Number of posts : 1888 Age : 40 Registration date : 2007-06-25

Tom touched down on the ground, alone. He looked down; looked around and realised he was in Chicago. The Windy City. Home.

He walked the paved streets, that no one else inhabited. He followed the sound of music. His grey eyes alighted on the back of a man; who looked young, but carried a stick, and a little girl, her black hair tied back in bunches. He followed quicker, almost running to keep up.

"Mikey..." The little girl whined. "Will Daddy be ok?" He stopped in shock as he caught sight of their faces. Mikey and Marlee?

Number of posts : 1888 Age : 40 Registration date : 2007-06-25

"Sure, honey." Mikey looked down at the sound of her voice, cane skimming expertly across the ground. "We just need to find Daddy Michael, mmkay?"

As Tom drew closer to them, he noticed tears tracks on Marlee's face, and a fresh bruise at Mikey's jaw. Oh God...

Mikey's cane clattered against an old warehouse and he opened the door, carefully stepping inside. "You go first, yeah?" Marlee let go of his hand and stepped onto the stairs.

"Be ca'eful Mikey!" She warned. "Slippy!" Mikey handed her the cane and took hold of the banisters tightly, going up the stairs one at a time. He got there slowly, making Tom's heart bleed. I want to help you. Mikey took his cane back and opened the door.

"Tom's in mania." He said calmly. "You need to go to him now, Michael. Now."

Number of posts : 1888 Age : 40 Registration date : 2007-06-25

Michael dropped his guitar and picked up his daughter. "At the flat?" he asked. The blind man nodded, keeping his cane still. "Right." He took the stairs two at a time. The rest of the band followed. Tom dived after them.

"The flat" was in a respectable neighbourhood, he noticed. Although Michael called it a flat, it looked more like a maisonette. "Tom?" Michael pushed open the door, handing Marlee to William. Tom entered after the other man, looking around with interest.

It looked like it could be a nice place, he thought to himself. It was a decent size, three bedrooms, plenty of living space. It looked like someone tried hard to keep it tidy. But there was glass everywhere, broken glass that crunched underfoot. Kristallnacht. The word sprang unbidden to his brain, bringing with it shivers of horror; memories of riots, before he was under Mikey's protection. There was blood smeared on clean walls, and a sense of desparation in the room. Tom licked his lips and he could taste it. He could taste the overwhelming despair that heralded mania.

There were no lights on, and Michael didn't change that. In the darkest corner of the flat, something moved; shifted; slammed its fist against the wall. Tom watched as the figure collapsed into sobs again and knew it wasn't a regular occurance.

"Tom..." Michael crooned, bending down. The figure clung to him, sobbing into his chest. He raised his head to look at Michael with tearfilled eyes and Tom gasped. It was him.

Number of posts : 1888 Age : 40 Registration date : 2007-06-25

Tom watched mutely as Marlee hit William until he put her down. She pottered around the room, across to a cupboard, pulling out the pills he so desperately needed. How does she know...? She gave them to her father.

His eyes skimmed across the figures of his friends. None of them seem to have changed much. Mike had lost weight, Butcher's hair had grown back, Adam kept his short, William's was now in an angled bob that gently brushed against his jawline. He wasn't interested in them. He moved on, moving further into the ransacked room.

Judging by the skillful way Mikey wielded his cane, they had been back in Chicago for a long time. Tom moved closer to his old friend. He was dressed in mute colours that didn't clash; a khaki shirt and a pair of jeans. They were put on in a hasty way, but Tom could almost see the hours Mikey had spent dressing, alone. His thick auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail, and this gave him a carefree, almost happy appearance. His eyes were dark, small white scars breaking in the pupils, whispy tendrils slipping into the russet irises that used to speak without words.

The little girl trying to clean up the ransacked apartment bore little resemblance to the baby Tom had been holding barely ten minutes hence. Her black hair, tied back neatly in bunches, shone with good health; her alabaster skin was smooth and unbruised. She greeted the world with worried blue eyes that sparkled with love and warmth. A pale lemon dress brushed against her knees, in perfect harmony with similar coloured socks and black sandals. Her hands; small and perfect, struggled to return the flat to a sense of normality.

Michael's golden blonde hair curled as it hit his shoulders, mingling with the faded locks of the other. His tanned arms were tight around his lover, still strong. His eyes were worried, but calm, so sure. Tom felt a rush of love for the other man. He knelt down carefully, even though he knew the glass couldn't hurt him.

He stared into the eyes of the older Tom, grey eyes seeking answers in the other's hidden depths. He was wiser; his eyes spoke of pain, but also of triumph, and pride, and love. Only a hint of shadow was about his jawline, as opposed to what he had had when he was younger. He was dressed in plain colours; a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. There were no shirts, no stripes.

Tom stood up again, looked around. Is this how it's going to be?

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