Gwen laid on the lawn chair out like a light. She was dead asleep. She had spent the second half of the bus ride back wide awake. Once she had finally made it over the fence and into the yard she got to the lawn chairs and passed out. She couldn’t even bother to climb up the trellis to an open window so she could sneak into the room she ‘shared’ with Jude. No, instead she sat down for a rest and quickly passed out before she had time to register it was happening. Now she was on her stomach quietly snoring with her arm hanging over the side of the chair. She had been so careful over the past year to keep Jude out of trouble. And now because of one lousy choice she was going to have their carefully built house of cards come toppling down.

Why had she done it? If she had never hoped a bus cross country to San Fran she wouldn’t be in this situation she was in now. In truth she kind of wished she hadn’t. This little misstep was exactly the kind of thing that had been happening to her for the last month. This was why Gwen didn’t let people in. This was why she didn’t live a normal life. When she lived a normal life things went wrong. When she tried to be normal she ended up in one mishap after another. She had been so careful sneaking onto that bus and then only to be caught and kicked off half way there. Then she had had to hitchhike the rest of the way to Cali. Once there she had no idea where she was going. It took her weeks to find her grandparents and then figure out a way into their house. But once she was inside is when things really went wrong. They wanted her to go away so badly they had bought her a plane ticket so she could go back to New York City where they never had to see her again. Some family they were. Maybe if she was lucky she could use their want to not see her to her advantage. But only time would tell.

Though, as she slept now none of that was running through her head. Instead she was thinking of what life could be like. What this safe place she was in could do for her. She was dreaming of something better. A world where she wasn’t hunted and didn’t need to hide. Oh if only such a world could exist.

Jiri had brought flowers. Orange day lilies and black-eyed susans, a medley of autumn hues. He turned the bouquet in his hands, scrutinizing it from all sides. That'll do, he decided.

The Iranian teen didn't dream anymore. He hadn't for months, not since his mutation had manifested. Anytime he tried to sleep, he ended up in someone else's head. He was a body snatcher by day, a dream walker by night. Since coming to the Mansion, 98% of the time that put him squarely in his roommate's head during the dreaming hours. Alex had been helping him with his mutation, way more than the teachers were--and he was ridiculously patient, for a guy whose brain was getting invaded on a daily basis. Tonight's goal was two fold: to be aware that he was dreaming, and to stay in control of his surroundings. Because really, what was the fun of dream walking if he couldn't work a little dream-magic?

Hence the flowers. Mary, the mountain lion living in Alex's skull, had volunteered to be his hostess this evening. It was a date, and the teenager did not want to disappoint. He took in a nervous breath, and let it out. There was a house up ahead--like the Mansion, except if the Mansion was someone's home. It was the sort of mix-and-match place that happened in dreams. After a moment more of thought, he changed the lilies to the fierce gold of the lioness' eyes.

Then he went up to the doors, knocked twice, and let himself in. Like the outside, the inside was a mix of spaces and of feelings--it had the Mansion's wide picture windows, but the usual pretentious foyer furniture had been replaced. The entire foyer had been replaced, in fact: the door opened on a sunlight living room, with the Mansion's rich wood floors, but with a set of cozy couches he'd never seen before. The whole place radiated comfort and warmth and safe. Not Mary's usual style.

Which made perfect sense, when he realized it wasn't Mary waiting for him. The woman inside was a few years older than him, maybe nineteen or twenty to his sixteen. Mousey brown hair--did it look that soft and curly in real life, or was that the dream-o-vision affecting things? The centers of the black-eyed Susan's shifted to the warm brown of her eyes.

He wasn't in Alex's head. And he had no clue how to get there: that was another part of his power they were working on. Targeting was not his strong suit.

Which meant he might as well roll with this.

The teenager gave a cheeky grin, and offered out the bouquet.

"You are not the lady I expected, but you are the woman of my dreams. May I be so bold as to ask your name?"

When it came to her dreams things were kind of hit or miss for Gwen. She could have the loveliest of dreams in which things were so very very different or she could have the most horrible in which she woke up in a hot sweat screaming. It depended. Today thankfully was a good dream. A good happy dream. She was in a place where she could be what she wished she had gotten the chance to be. She had a family who actually gave a shit about her and there was no ringing in her ears or pain in her head. She couldn’t feel them and for once her mind was her own.

That had to be the thing that she dreamed of the most out of all things. She just wanted to have her mind to herself. IF she wasn’t a mutant. If she didn’t have these powers she would be able to do anything. She wouldn’t’ have to worry about being hunted or hated. She could live a normal life with a normal job and a normal family. And maybe just maybe her grandparents would want her. She had hoped so much that they would and was not surprised when they didn’t. She didn’t’ really understand why it was so hard to like her. Well other than the fact that it had made her bitter over the years. She was bitter and hateful and sarcastic. It happened when you spent most of your life angry at the world.

In tonight’s dream she was in the mansion wandering around as if she wasn’t a fugitive. The place was warm and comfortable. It was the same and yet different. Very different. It was the kind of place that Gwen well dreamed of. It was like a very large security blanket making her feel better. Though at the sound of an unfamiliar voice Gwen spun around and looked at him with wide eyes as a shot of pain shook the world around her. Everything seemed to shift and crack in a way she had never seen. She looked around in fear before her eyes fell back on the man in front of her. ”What did you do?” This was her dream and it was shifting into a nightmare. She looked at the main in fear as things seemed to start to settle around her as they stood staring at eachother.

The world was like crackled glass. It was more the way things felt, suddenly, then a sight--but there was that, too, at the corner of his vision. The Iranian teen backpeddaled from the terrified woman. In his hand, the flowers dried up, the petals turning gray before flaking off one by one. They turned to dust before they ever reached the ground.

He raised his other hand in the universal teenage gesture of what did I do? combined with it wasn't me with, with just a smidge of what are you even talking about in the roll of his shoulders.

"Nothing. I didn't do anything. I just, ah, brought flowers. Into your dream."

He hadn't even done anything crazy, and she didn't seem to have a surplus of personalities to clue her in, like his roommate did. There was no way she knew what was going on.

...Did she?

Gwen barely registered what was happening. The light that flooded in through the windows turned to a shade of gray and the warm light that filled the room turned cold around them. The bright colors seemed to dull and the life that was once there faded away to nothing. Gwen let out a loud cry as she keeled over a sharp pain shooting through her head and a buzzing filled the air around the girl and her mental intruder.

She looked up at him with tears of pain in her eyes. Her face showed a mixture of anger and fear as her eyes pierced the Iranian boy before her. ”You’re a mutant. You’re doing this to me.” A drip of blood started to come from the girl’s nose. Her hand rose quickly to rub it as more started to fall from both nostrils. She recoiled looking at her hands in terror. What was happening? Was this the thing she feared? Was a mutant finally going to kill her?

She pushed up in an attempt to get away from him trying to move or run but as she turned the room around them changed. She was in a dark room with dirty old wallpaper and a metal framed bed like one they would give an inmate in a mental institution. A voice could be heard over the silence. “Gweeeennyyyyyy.” Gwen gasped at the familiar sound. “Gweny be a dear and bring us the mutant. If you bring us the mutant we’ll make it stop. We’ll make all the pain go away.”

From Gwen came a shaky gasp of air. ”No.” She whispered her word standing there frozen in terror.

What was happening? It was like the place was warping, crumbling, changing around them, like a horror movie scene. The yellow sunlight turned to a faded gray beam. The walls darkened, until he wasn't even sure if they were still there at all. Windows and tables and couch and all the comforts of the scene grayed and vanished.

And the woman. She collapsed. Jiri made a move to rush over--

>> ”You’re a mutant. You’re doing this to me.”

"Wait, what? No, I mean yes, I mean I'm a mutant but we're just in your dream, we can't really get hurt in here--"

The blood falling from her nose said otherwise. In the dulled scene, its red stood out in sharp contrast.

She was so frightened. He hadn't meant to do anything to her, he wasn't doing anything to her, he couldn't help it even if he did this was just how his own power worked and he didn't--

he couldn't--

He didn't know how to fix things. All he could do was watch as she tried to scramble away, and failed. Now he knew what it felt like, being the monster that stalked people through their dreams.

>> “Gweeeennyyyyyy. Gweny be a dear and bring us the mutant. If you bring us the mutant we’ll make it stop. We’ll make all the pain go away.”

"It's not real," Jiri said, half to her and half to the voice haunting the dark air around them. "Listen, lady, I don't know if this is a memory or a nightmare or what, but it's not real. I'm a mutant. And part of what I do? Wander into dreams. This isn't real."

What did he mean they were in a dream? She knew what was happening. She could feel the pain of her powers. She could hear that familiar buzzing murmur in the back of her mind. He brought them back to her. He helped them find her. Maybe he even lead them here on purpose. Gwen wished she had a way to fight back. Wished she was a different kind of mutant or not a mutant at all. Then maybe her life would be different. Then maybe she could be happy for once instead of whatever this was.

“Don’t’ listen to him Gweny. He is trying to trick you so you won’t bring him to us. We need him Gweny. We need him so we can keep going on. We need him to keep you safe.”

She wanted to believe the boy. She wanted this not to be real. She wanted to be able to push this all away and go back to that happy place where her powers were gone and she was alone and happy and safe. She wanted to be happy and safe.

The more Gwen fought the voices the louder they got almost drowning out the unwanted visitor to her dream. He said he was a wanderer of dreams. Gwen had never heard of such a power but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Why did they want him?

She pushed herself up shaking and turned to the boy. There was blood covering her hands and smeared across her face. Her voice came out as a quiet whisper only loud enough for them to hear. ”I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this but they make me. If I don’t do it they will… Let’s just say there are worse things then death. Just please come with me. Don’t fight. I’m a mutant too. I promise they will get what they want from you and then let you go. They always let them go.” Her eyes were pleading with the boy to do as she asked. Even if this was a dream she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t live for days without food or whatever punishment they would come up with this time. She had thought she was free of this. She was apparently wrong.

"It's not real," the teenager insisted. "I'm going to go with you because it's not real and I'm going to punch whoever is talking because it's not real and then I'm going to find whatever is making that weird buzz-chatter noise and punch that too because none of this is real."

How he could prove to a dreamer that they were dreaming, he had no idea. But the woman was terrified. He didn't know how much of this was really real. Jiri's own mutation had only manifested a few months ago. He'd been a normal kid until then. Some of the other mutants at the Mansion, the ones whose parents weren't so understanding, whose powers had manifested earlier... they told stories.

He didn't want to know how much of this was real. Not until they were both awake again, and she could decide for herself what she did and didn't want him to know. Walking into her dreams like this, maybe her memories? It wasn't fair to her. He didn't want to be seeing any of this. Neither did she: that was clear enough.

He didn't know how to wake her up, but maybe he could help her change the dream again.

Jiri took a deep breath, and put his hands together, almost like he was praying a Christian prayer. He let the breath out slowly. When he opened his hands, a clean white handkerchief was folded between them.

He held it out to the woman. "Here. You've, ah, got a little blood on your," he gestured with his own hand to his face. All of his face. "Clean yourself up, maybe? And try to believe me, okay? That's all I ask. You're safe right now. Nothing's going to hurt you, and I'll prove it."

He took a step away from her, and turned in a slow circle, his arms spread. Come and get me.

"Hey!" He shouted, into the darkness. "Hey, creepy voice guy! Here I am. I'm not running. And I'm not trying to trick her, because, my disembodied friend, I am not a figment of her psyche. What you gonna do about it? A whole lot of nothing? If you've got anything, show it. Otherwise, get out of here. The lady was having a nice dream before you showed up."

...Before he showed up. But he couldn't afford to think that way, not when his thoughts could influence things in here, too.

She relaxed slightly looking at him in confusion. He kept saying this wasn’t really and maybe he was crazier than her and really thought that, but then how did he hear the buzzing. The buzzing was in her own mind. Gwen knew that no one could hear it. It was the sound of a million mutants around her. A million voices in the back of her head wanting to be heard. To be heard by her and no one else.

Her forehead furrowed as she looked over to him just staring for a minute before the voice came out again calling her name. They always called her Gweny. It was their pet name for her. It was the name they gave her to make them seem nicer. As if the people that kept you captive with the intent of using you for personal gain of some kind could be nice. She was a means to an end to them and nothing more. She was a golden goose if you will.

The tense that was in her shoulders returned in an instant she however didn’t’ move. The fear was back and the confusion was gone and she didn’t move. She should have grabbed the boy by the hand and dragged him off to his fate. He had told her to. She however couldn’t bring herself to do it. How could she bring anyone to them? She was older now and tougher yet they still made her melt to nothing. They knew things. They knew the weaknesses that she denied she had. They knew exactly what to say and do to make her fall apart.

She shied away as the boy handed her the handkerchief. She slowly reached out and took it whipping it across her face to remove the blood. It whipped away as if it was still wet removing all too easy. She however didn’t take her eyes off of the boy. As he moved to provoke them her eyes widened. He shouldn’t be doing that. He shouldn’t be calling for them like that. He really did believe that this was a dream.

As if on cue a burly man with a sadistic smile came walking through a door behind her. He pushed her out of the way slamming her against the wall. She went crashing to the floor but didn’t feel pain. It didn’t hurt. Why didn’t’ it hurt? She thought in her mind that this hurting but yet didn’t’ feel the familiar pain.

The man walked towards the boy his smiling growing at the site of him. “You will do nicely.” Gwen looked around her for something. Anything she could grab to help the boy. As she looked to her left there was a seemingly broken chair. Had that been there before? She reached for it. She had to do something. It seemed to be just out of her reach. She couldn’t’ seem to get to it no matter how close she got. She could hear the man coming upon the boy. She reached stretching her fingers and hoping she would be in time.

She almost believed him. Just for a second, he saw it in her eyes. She took the handkerchief from him hesitantly, like he might bite or disappear or--he didn't even know. But for just an instant, her fear wavered.

Then the voice was back, and she was as terrified as ever. It didn't sound like a scary voice, to him. To him, it was just irritating.

They were in a room now. A small room, with hard walls and a hard floor and the sort of omni-directional light that came in dreams. If he looked hard enough, if his mind tried to find a source, a lamp would probably appear somewhere. Or a bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was that kind of place.

The man who walked through the door was perfect. Textbook perfect. The very image of a thug, with just enough cold intelligence in his eyes, just enough polish around his edges, to stave off the stereotype. Even the way he shoved the woman into the wall--it was a perfect mixture of pointless cruelty with a level of violence that wouldn't actually hurt her. Psychologically, hell yes. But physically? Just a bruise or two. Just a casual dick move, to show who was alpha male. The guy was taller than Jiri, and broader in the shoulders, and those arms could have hugged a bear. The beanpole Iranian teen didn't stand a chance against him.

Perfect.

Absolutely perfect, for proving just how much of a dream this was.

>> “You will do nicely.”

"Couldn't have said it better myself." The teen rolled his shoulders, and met the bigger man half way.

Dreams didn't work the same as real life. Physics-wise, or any other kind of wise. In real life, he'd have had to deal with a skull impacting his knuckles, and the fact that he really didn't have much mass to equal-and-opposite-reaction this guy's face with.

In a dream? It felt a little like punching play dough. He felt it, knew it, believed it, and the man reeled backwards.

...A step.

Hey, better than he'd have done in real life. He didn't have to shake out his hand or anything.

The woman was reaching for a broken chair leg. He didn't remember there being a chair, much less a broken one. But this was her dream, too, and part of her was waking up to that.

"Pick it up," Jiri urged. "It's right under your hand. You know you want to nail him."

Real or not, this girl was about to get the best kind of dream therapy.