Unreality [DawnsLight]

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Flinne felt tense. There were people bustling to and fro, and each and every one of them seemed to have an air of urgency. "Busy might be normal, but this is anything but." He replied to Aria's idle observation.

When the scientist arrived to escort them through the maze of hallways, Flinne let himself relax somewhat. He refrained from looping a protective arm over Aria's shoulder, but only just. He remained close of course, but he wasn't about to be hanging off the woman at every turn. When they came to a stop, Flinne stuffed his hands in his pockets and made a conscious effort to still their fidgeting.

"Well," He murmured sourly. "We'd best get it over with then. If you wouldn't mind talking while you work, I'd like a more comprehensive explanation of your findings. Preferably in laymen's terms." Luminous green gaze flicked to Aria. "And I'd like you to stay close." He had a strange sensation that didn't fit well with words. Every breath wanted to catch in his throat.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps he'd gotten a sense for the supernatural, living in unreality, or maybe he was just being paranoid. But he wasn't going to risk Aria just because his hunch wasn't easy to describe.
 
Blood, vial after vial of it, was drawn and taken for testing. Madeline spoke while an assistant worked on Flinne's arm, Aria looking on with concern.

"There seems to be some sort of inherent mutation in you, Flinne. That faint luminescence in your eyes seems to be the same that Dr. Moore has been experimenting with in regards to effecting the shadows." Madeline paused while Jared broke in excitedly.

"The bioluminescent proteins-" He paused, remembering the Survivor's terse instruction for layman's terms; "The stuff that makes those jellyfish and fireflies glow seems to effect the way that the shadows are able to consume matter. The UV light harms them, wears them down, until they're able to consume more matter and bounce back. The fact that you have that protein, this particular mutation, and have lasted this long- longer than anyone else in your world- we think that we may be able to create a weapon against these things from your blood." Jared looked from Madeline to Flinne and then to Aria, his gaze lingering for a few moments. "Dr. Young has been working on it non-stop and tests from your previous sample have been promising. But we needed a larger one to start production on a larger scale."

Hope welled in Aria's chest, but it was tempered with strong apprehension. Something wasn't right about Flinne; he seemed on edge and eager to keep her close. Given, in the time that they had been together they had rarely been apart but for him to ask that she stay close wasn't something she felt he might normally do. Once the assistant had risen to whisk away the vials of blood to whatever lab held Dr. Young, Aria moved to occupy the empty seat beside her lover and placed a gentle olive-skinned hand upon his. She wished she were able to comfort him, to say something to alleviate whatever unease he was feeling. But the words just didn't seem to come; until then she would stay close as he asked.

Aria was just about to ask a question when Jared and Madeline received texts at the exact same moment. Surprised, the pair of scientists read them in silence and looked to one another, pale and frightened. She could hear the blood thrumming in her ears, a wave of cold dread washing over her body. She noticed offhandedly that she was gripping Flinne's hand hard, her knuckles white.

Madeline spoke, her eyes wide and frightened. "We have to get to a TV. They're moving."
 
The survivor settled himself gingerly in a chair, and offered his arm to the scientist to do with what she pleased. Flinne went right on glowering at the needle in his arms as samples of his blood were taken. He only had so much to give of course, but he was confident that the doctors wouldn't do him any undue harm. But when the world is on the line, what might they consider acceptable?

For once, the man let the voice in the back of his mind go on murmuring it's concerns. He'd had sleep. Food. Sex. He couldn't afford to relax. He couldn't let the comforts of reality lull his vigilance. He'd spent so long running that he needed to act. To move. To survive. He itched to be up from the chair, and dragging Aria as far from the shades as he could, and the world be damned.

The grip Aria had on his hand was a reassuring comfort. He returned the grip, albeit more gently than she. It was all happening too quickly. Much more so than it had with Flinne's world, and much differently. It was as if this was a game who's rules changed to the winner's whim. There wasn't enough time. Bright, green eyes turned from the lovely scientist, to Aria. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," He insisted. "No matter what happens."

Even as he was reassuring Aria, a noise intruded on the intensity of the room. A subtle noise. An out-of-place noise. It was innocuous, and small. If Flinne hadn't been waiting, feeling for something out of place, he might not have noticed. The sound of rubber on tile. A ball. Down his eyes flicked from Aria's face, to the floor at her feet. A palm-sized red rubber ball rolled to a stop just short of her feet. His brows furrowed. There was nothing off about the ball. It's shadow looked no different from any other shadow in the room, cast appropriately by the light-sources nearby.

Only there was no reason for a child's toy to be in the lab. He'd seen no children in the building at all. "Is there a daycare in the building? For the staff?" He asked, although he knew it was a stretch.
 
Following Flinne's gaze, her own came to rest on the ball at her feet. It was a small, simple thing. Aria couldn't quite understand why Flinne was getting so worked up about such a small thing. She looked to him worriedly, patting his hand to reassure him and offering a smile.

Madeline was already out the door, her heels clicking down the hall. Jared looked over his shoulder just before stepping out himself. "No, nothing like that around here." He disappeared through the door, gone before his words really faded from the air. Turning to Flinne, Aria's hazel eyes met his green. "What's wrong? We should really be following them to see, there could be something important happening."

She slipped her fingers between his, linking their hands as she took up her purse and stood. "We're close, Flinne. We're going to beat them and things will be alright. You heard Jared and Madeline, they've been doing tests and making things. I really feel like everything will be fine." She squeezed his hand, smiling, trying her best to alleviate those fears and take the worry from his face. That frightened look he wore when they met in her dreams was coming back and every careful glance, every calculating look, caused her hurt and fear. This time would be different for him. This time they were together.

"Come on. Let's go see what has everyone freaking out." Aria stood, tugging at Flinne's hand gently while she nudged the ball aside with her foot.
 
Suddenly, the room vanished, as did the ball. All that remained were Flinne, Aria, and a field of wheat. The Survivor found himself sitting on the ground, an arm lifted to keep his fingers twined with Aria's from his place on the ground. He was on his feet again shortly, and casting about for a Dreamer. "This isn't good," He said.

Motion off to the left of the pair of them drew his attention, and he started off in the direction immediately. He wasn't about to let go of Aria's hand. Not here. "This is a dream. We touched a reality." He said, as he walked. "Which shouldn't be possible, as we were already in a reality. <i>Your</i> reality. I don't know enough about this to assume that dreams can't pop up on the same plane of existence as their dreamers, but I find it bad practice to fill holes with assumptions." He glanced about, and plucked a strand of the tall wheat as they walked.

It wasn't long before they came to a clearing in the crops. A crop circle, as a matter of fact. A squat grey-skinned creature with big black eyes was rolling in an ever-widening circle. Incredulously, Flinne stared at the thing. "Aliens?" He said. A moment later, with a rustling of wheat, a farmer stepped into the circle, with a shotgun draped over one arm, the breach open and revealing two coppery shells.

"Knew it was aliens." Said the farmer, amiably. He was a short, balding man with a fringe of white hair, and a pair of bluejeans cinched tight over a generous belly.
 
The sudden change in surroundings had Aria's head spinning and she drew in a sharp intake of breath in surprise. She looked at Flinne incredulously while her heart fluttered in panic in her chest. She helped to pull him to his feet, his pronouncement not doing much if anything to alleviate her fear.

"Where are we?" Aria whispered before spinning in the direction of the movement just as Flinne did. Without even time to gather herself, he was pulling her along through the tall golden wheat with her hand clutched tightly in his. "This is a dream. We touched a reality." He said, as he walked. "Which shouldn't be possible, as we were already in a reality. Your reality. I don't know enough about this to assume that dreams can't pop up on the same plane of existence as their dreamers, but I find it bad practice to fill holes with assumptions." His words chilled her and she had to swallow to clear a lump in her suddenly dry throat. "We have to get back. Flinne, how do we get back?" Her voice was high with panic, hand hand gripping his until her knuckles were white. The sense of removal and otherness of being in someone else's dream weighed on Aria like a guilt. They shouldn't be here. I was wrong; a violation.

The wheat on either side of her was doing nothing to help and she felt claustrophobic; so, when a clearing appeared up ahead Aria did feel some measure of relief. Until she saw what await for them and stopped dead in her tracks behind Flinne. "Aliens." She answered, nonplussed and staring at the grey creature. Considering the strangeness she had been experiencing of late, this had to be the singular weirdest experience yet.

Aria was about to speak when the farmer stepped into the crop circle and almost seemed to answer them. The shotgun- loaded, she could see- draped over the portly man's arm made her nervous. Well. More nervous. She did not particularly want to be mistaken as an alien and shot. If she had learned anything from Flinne's time in her dreams it was that they had a very real effect on those who entered into them.

Trying to seem as calm and friendly as she could, Aria made to raise the arm not linked to Flinne's and then stopped suddenly. Turning to her lover, concern and doubt coloring her features, she asked, "You would always just yell at me to wake up, but... where will we end up when he does? We have to get out of here and back to reality, Flinne. Something is wrong and I think it has to do with why Maddie and Jared ran off. When the ball appeared." She paused, looking around at the strange surroundings before coming back to rest on Flinne's lean and handsome features. "This isn't like your world, is it? This is worse."
 
Flinne regarded the fellow, and ignored the alien rolling around. "Be patient," He murmured gently to his lover, as his luminous green gaze swept the man up and down. He was sure that the Alien wasn't a dreamer. He'd been able to push Aria out of her dreams of course, but he'd been in and out of her dreams more than anyone else's. He'd tried waking other dreamers of course, but it never worked the way it worked with Aria. And he didn't feel the pressing, suffocating sensation that accompanied Unreality's arrival.

The farmer snapped the breach of his shotgun closed, and turned to them. "Yer glowin'. You an alien too?" Flinne didn't like the sound of that one bit. He'd never had a DREAMER try to kil him, and he didn't particularly want to find out what would happen if they succeeded.

"Time to go." he murmured, and interposed himself between Aria, and the shotgun-toting farmer. On the alien rolled, although it was getting fuzzy as the farmer's focus faded from it. Aria's questions were valid of course, but Flinne didn't know anything. Not anything solid, anyhow. He glanced to the field of wheat. They were still quite close. He turned, and muttered "Run." and with all his heart, he willed. the gun not to go off. The curses of the irate farmer followed them into the field. "They've changed the rules," Flinne called, as he ran. "The best place to start is back at the lab." And just as soon as the words left his mouth, there was a sense of vertigo.

For a panicked moment, there was <i>nothing</i> beneath his boots. Only air. And then his bootshod feet touched the ground in a jarring landing. They'd left the dream, and had returned to what Flinne had hoped was Aria's world, six inches off the ground. In the middle of a cattle pen. "This... Is not the lab." He observed, dumbfounded.
 
Tawny gold wheat whipped by as Flinne pulled her along and she could hear the man cursing behind them, his shotgun jammed. She thanked whatever powers might be that could have given them such luck, but as the Survivor spoke she realized it was likely him she should be thanking. Before she could speak however, the world seemed to lurch and spin and she felt she might be sick.

The rank smell of manure did nothing to help the feeling of nausea threatening to overwhelm Aria's senses and her stomach roiled uncomfortably. Gagging and gasping and gripping Flinne's hand tightly after the short fall it took her a few moments to get her bearings. Or what bearing she could get. This most certainly was not the lab. She wasn't even sure of it was Oregon.

"What just happened? They've changed the rules?" Frightened hazel eyes took in her lover, asking for answers she was sadly certain he didn't have. The lowing of cows in the distance almost made her jump.

"We need to figure out where we are... the how and why probably isn't important right now but something was happening when we..." She trailed off, unsure of what to call what had just happened. "When we went into the dream. I can't believe-" Running her hands back through her hair and taking a breath, looking around the cattle pen they found themselves in, her gaze came back to Flinne. "If I hadn't been holding your hand, I don't know what I would have done." Aria smiled gratefully, starting to slog through the muddy pen and thoroughly ruining her shoes. She didn't care to think what could have happened. What almost happened. Or what could very well be going on in the world at large right now. She was with Flinne and that made her feel as if everything might be alright.

It would, wouldn't it?
 
Flinne cast about them for some sort of landmark, but was unfortunately met only by the herd of cows nearby, the pen, and the mud. With a sigh, he began moving alongside Aria as she made her way towards the pen's perimeter. "No if's. I don't know what will happen if we leave a dream out of contact, and I don't intend to find out." He insisted. When they made their way to the fence, he cast about for the gate. "Don't touch the wire," He cautioned warily as he began to walk the perimeter.

"I suppose we could be just about anywhere," He observed, "But we'll find our way quickly enough." He tried to sound confident for Aria even if he didn't quite feel it. She didn't need him paranoid. Not yet. When they'd found the gate, Flinne clambered his way over it carefully, before offering a hand to his lover. It was free of live wires.

He glanced back Aria's face, his face stern. Again, he spoke fiercely. "I'm not going to let <i>anything</i> happen to you."
 
Aria took Flinne's hand and carefully climbed over the fence to hop down onto the firm dry ground on the other side. In response to her beloved's fierce reassurance, she couldn't help but to give him a small smile. I know. No matter what happens or what this all means, I know you'll protect me. And I'll do the same for you Flinne. I'll keep you safe, too.

It was a long walk down the dusty dirt road away from the cattle pen, the lowing of the cows following them well into the distance even after the view of where they had landed disappeared behind gently rolling hills swathed in green and broken up by stands of leafless trees and briar thickets. It would have been a pleasant walk if not for the chilly breeze and the air of anxious foreboding that Aria felt. There were no signs, nothing to really indicate just where the dream had dropped them. And besides the fencing around the cattle and the rough dirt road on which they walked there was really no other indication that there had been people there before them for that matter. When a grain silo and the pitched roof of a farmhouse began to rise over a stand of trees in the distance, Aria could hardly believe the overwhelming wave of relief that washed over her. She had begun to worry that they might wander that lonely dirt road forever. Turning to beam a bright smile at Flinne, she slipped her hand into his to give it a firm squeeze.

As they neared the farmstead, all seemed well and right. Clothes flapped in the chilly breeze where they hung from a washline, the wooden siding was in need of a fresh coat of paint but the rocking chairs upon the porch were new. Flowers planted in beds along the foundation competed with weeds and here and there a child's toy could be found peeking out of the grass. The field from the dream they had just left, or at least one very similar and already cut lay behind the house. An old beat-up pickup in matte primer green was parked in the gravel drive. The wheel wells were rusted out and the plates, which Aria was hoping would lend a clue as to their whereabouts, said only "FARM USE" in a faded scrawl.

"I'm not getting any cell signal out here, so maybe we could see where we are and ask to use their phone?" Aria asked, letting go of Flinne's hand to walk lightly up the porch steps and try to get as much mud as she could off of her shoes as she wiped them upon the mat. It was bad enough that two strangers would be walking in out of nowhere with some crazy tale much less tracking mud all through their home. Raising her fist to knock, Aria was surprised to find the door swung inward with the slightest touch of her knuckles.

But that was to be expected, right? All the way out there, who would keep their door locked? At any rate, she thought she heard voices from within. Casting a quick look to Flinne, she pushed the door open a bit wider to call out. "Hello? Hello! Is there anyone home? We're stranded and need some help, please?"

The minutes ticked by without a sound of movement from within. Still the voices droned on; now that she listened Aria was certain that they were coming from a TV. "I don't think anyone's home. We'll just use the phone and leave." Wide hazel eyes cast to Flinne, begging reassurance even as the empty farmhouse sent warning bells ringing in her ears. Something seemed off about it, wrong, despite how normal the appearance of the yard and surroundings.

Upon entering, the house seemed to have been left in haste. A few pictures had been taken from the walls, clothes strewn haphazardly on a made but tousled bed in a downstairs bedroom. Aria didn't bother to climb the stairs going to the second floor; instead she picked her way down a hall in the direction of the sounds from the television. The scene and the utter quiet of the house aside from that noise was raising the hair upon her arms and the back of her neck. Gripping her purse tighter on her shoulder, she glanced back at Flinne in order to keep her nerves in check.

The TV sat atop a weathered oak stand underneath a stuffed and mounted buck's head. Its hooves, mounted and upturned to hold a rifle were empty. Ignoring everything else in the simple cozy room, Aria watched in horror at the images flashing across the screen. She felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her, like she was drowning and could not get oxygen into her lungs no matter how she tried. They said they were moving before. They were moving. And now... oh please, no.

Loops of footage, strung together from around the world with the city names listed in white at the lower left corners- no time for fancy graphics, it seemed- flashed as by as an anchorman advised people to gather loved ones, avoid the larger cities, and not to panic. Useless. Watching the images could tell you that. It was all useless.

Grainy footage from Manhattan, San Francisco, Tokyo, Berlin; all showed different horrible views of the same thing. The oily masses of shadow that had collected and sat for days seemingly benign had, as Madeline and Jared had said what suddenly seemed like ages ago, begun to move. The roiling masses, like a den of snakes wiggling across streets and cars and buildings make her skin crawl. Aria could almost feel it against her and the only thing more horrible than the massive wriggling forms crawling their way across the planet was what they left behind.

Absolute ruination. Nothingness. Just a grey void like the trail of a slug extending back behind each mass of lightless obsidian maggots, the crumbling ruins of buildings and structures in their wake. There was a high keening noise accompanying the footage, eventually drowning out the repeated words of the anchor on screen as the picture began to blur and distort. The pain in her knees seemed to jar Aria back to herself and she found she was on the floor, tears streaming down her face. The high noise now totally drowning out all sound from the television were her own screams.
 
Flinne kept his eyes alert, and mobile as they walked down that lonesome, dirt road. The smile on his lover's face sapped some of the tension from the set of his jaw, and from his shoulders. Maybe they'd be fine. He allowed himself a small, hopeful smile of his own as the farm came into view.

His smile fell as they approached the farmhouse however, and his stomach did a little roil of uncertainty. Mounting the porch, Flinne found himself looking for any wrong-facing shadows. He found none. Even so, something about the farmhouse struck him as wrong. The absence of a response to Aria's words put his hackles up, and he very nearly insisted that he enter before her. He didn't want danger to come anywhere close to his lady love. But neither was he about to give her undue worry. Rather, he laid a hand gently at the small of her back encouragingly.

Rather than heading right for the noise of the television, Flinne began the somewhat grim task of scavenging the house for useful tools. An old, worn toolbelt he found beneath the sink, as well as a somewhat bulky flashlight. It wasn't his old kit, but it would have to do. Around his hips went the toolbelt, when he heard the thump of Aria's knees hitting the carpet. Even before his conscious mind had processed the noise, his feet were moving. His eyes fell to Aria, and then swept the room for the cause of her distress. Her cries wrenched at his chest, and he wanted, <i>needed</i> to fix it. To make it all better.

He only saw that the television had begun scrolling footage of the catastrophe. He grimaced, and spent a scant moment to pull the plug on the set, before dropping to his own knees before Aria. Softly, fiercely, he spoke her name as his rough hands rose to cradle her face. "Aria," He said, leaning his face in 'til her eyes filled his vision. "Aria, I've got you. Listen to me. You have to listen."

Whether or not she could hear him was beyond him, but he knew that he rather desparately needed to help her. "You can trust me. You know you're safe here, in my arms. We've got to go, Aria."
 
The horror and the droning were gone suddenly, warm green filling her vision like light through a leafy canopy. Aria began to come back to herself, quieting her screaming although sobs still shook her body. She was safe. She was with Flinne. As long as she was with Flinne she would be alright. Choking and blinking the tears from her eyes, Aria listened and found comfort in the calloused hands upon her face.

When she had quieted at last, Aria stood with Flinne's help and numbly made her way to the small bathroom she had passed on her way into the living room. The overly-bright accents of yellow rubber ducks gave the situation an oddly surreal quality. She almost laughed but decided that might just make her beloved think she was cracking up under the strain. Instead, she wet a cloth and held to to her face for a moment before lifting her hair and switching it to the back of her neck. After a few deep breaths, she had almost stopped shaking. When she felt she could speak, she left the bathroom to find her Survivor.

"Thanks. I-" she paused, working past a lump in her throat. "I just got overwhelmed there. I'm sorry." Drawing a shuddering breath, she was about to say something else when she noticed the tool belt slung around his hips, a flashlight tucked into one of the loops. "You're just taking that? Flinne, I don't want to steal."

Aria looked around the living room, remembered the clothes-strewn bed; the people who lived here had left. In a hurry. And they had taken a few personal things that said they were not really planning to return. She hoped they were wrong, and turning hazel eyes full of conflict to the face of the man she treasured, Aria changed her mind. "On second thought, we might as well gather what we can to help us. I'll check upstairs, maybe you can find keys for that heap outside."
 
Flinne rose along with Aria, and he trailed a few steps behind her as she went to the bathroom. He crossed his arms over his lean chest, and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb as the dreamer composed herself. Questions about her still swirled through his mind. Questions he knew he didn't have the time to answer. Even so, they rang in his mind.

<i>Why, out of all the possible dreamers in the city, did I keep finding hers?</i>

Flinne knew the answer would be important, but he hadn't a clue as to how to get it. He was no great thinker. He was just a man interested in keeping his skin whole. <i>And not just mine any more...</i> He thought to himself. Aria's voice brought him abruptly out of his brooding. He shifted his weight to bring himself off the doorframe, and let his arms down.

He'd been about to point out that if the family that had lived here had wanted the stuff, they'd have taken it when they left. Quickly enough however, Aria came to the conclusion on her own. The ghost of a cynical smile flashed across his expression, before he was all business again. He didn't have the heart to speak his mind on the morality of the matter of course.

"Look for small things you'll miss. Spools of thread, needles, twine. Fishing line, if you can find it clean. Soap. Seasonings. Salt and pepper go a long way. Look for something to carry it in, that doesn't require you to hold onto it. A backpack, satchel, or belt like this. And don't take any more than you're ready to walk all day with. I'll check the kitchen for food." The house wasn't going to have everything Flinne would like to re-equip himself with of course, but it would have enough for now, and there would be plenty more soon enough.

Flinne felt no guilt for taking what he needed of course. He didn't even bat an eyelash. If things carried on, there would be more houses just like this one. If he let himself think about each item he palmed, he'd go mad. <i>That's assuming I'm not there already.</i> He thought, bitterly.
 
Climbing the stairs lined with family photographs that she couldn't help glancing at, Aria went over and over Flinne's words. The suggestions of what they should take. All such small simple things and not at all what she would have expected. But then, she supposed that he knew first-hand what become important when the world ended.

An icy cold seemed to come over her suddenly, her chest feeling tight until she willed the panic to pass. She didn't need to have another episode like downstairs. There was still a chance that she wouldn't need to mourn the world. I don't think Maddy and Jared and Young have tried their weapon yet. Can't be sure, and I don't want to turn on the TV to find out but there might be hope yet. Please let there be some hope.

Picking her way through the rooms, searching for those small items Flinne had mentioned and anything else that might come in handy, Aria had never before felt like such an intruder. She had to keep reminding herself that what they were after had no value beyond survival; the owners might even encourage them to take these things. That made her feel slightly better about rifling through the drawers and closets of an elderly couple, though not much. At least it seemed that their practicality was working in her favor. A sewing kit, a few pocket knives, first aid kit, medicine, and a light blanket all made it into the faded olive-drab canvas satchel she found stuffed at the back of one of the closets.

Deciding that they may need room for things Flinne may have found and that this was probably the most useful assortment of items she would be able to find upstairs, Aria went back the way she came.

"Hey Flinne? Find anything?" She called from the foot of the stairs, turning to make her way back to the living room and scoop her purse up from where she left it on the floor. Aria began to transfer the essentials from it into the larger canvas bag and to look about for the survivor.
 
Flinne stared off after Aria as she ascended to the second story of the farmhouse. When she was out of sight, he reluctantly broke his eyes away, and towards the kitchen. He rooted around for a time, compiling goods that they might need. Mostly, it was dried goods that he took. A half-full bag of rice found it's way into his pocket, as well as a number of seasonings that would be sorely missed when they were gone. Salt and pepper shakers were among them. The cupboards seemed fairly well stocked, but most of the goods therein would be useless to people on the run.

On the counter, Flinne compiled a number of things to be used or consumed immediately, as well as a much smaller pile of things that could be put to use, but he hadn't any room to carry in his pockets. Among the first pile was a sack of apples, and another of oranges. There were some other cans of fruit, and soup as well, too heavy to make for easy travel, but good for a meal none the less. There was a half a loaf of bread as well, and what looked to be the leavings of some stew that had been in the refrigerator.

Among the second, a large assortment of kitchen amenities were arrayed. Baking soda, a small bottle of dish-soap, a pair of cloth napkins, two sets of serrated steak knives, two forks, two spoons. Too, there were larger containers of spices that wouldn't easily fit among the Survivor's pockets, or toolbelt. Garlic, and granulated onion. Finally, he'd set out a pair of bottles that looked as if they were used for biking, or hiking. They looked oddly modern among the rather ramshackle kitchen.

He turned as Aria inquired after his findings, and glanced towards the things he'd compiled. "Dinner," He suggested, indicating the first of the piles. Suiting his words, he poked about in the cabinets to find a pair of bowls. He began ladling stew into one for himself, and into the other for Aria. Thinking she might feel guilty for eating someone else's food, he went on talking. "They won't be back soon, and these'll go bad anyhow. We'll take some of the canned stuff, and the fruit for the road. We'll only keep them as long as we have a vehicle to move them. We'll eat before we head out, while we pack." He glanced up from his ministrations with the bowls, to gauge precisely how well his lover was taking this particular turn of events.

He moved over to an ancient looking microwave, and settled the bowl on the strangely clean turn-tray. Flinne had never known a microwave to stay clean longer than a month. He wanted to tell Aria that everything would be alright, but he didn't know that it would.
 
While the old microwave buzzed somewhat alarmingly in its effort to reheat the leftovers Aria sunk into a chair at the small kitchen table and began to shift around the contents of the satchel she had found to make room for Flinne's spoils. A cool smile lifted one corner of her mouth into an uncharacteristic smirk. "Well, you did say you were going to cook for me. I just never would have thought this would be the way it would happen."

The things he was gathering, the way he was acting, she could see that he was going back into the mindset that he had had when they first came across one another in her dreams. She thought of his lean look, his fear, and the way he held himself then. Really just days ago. He had seemed to relax and calm in the short time he had been in her world and she found herself to be surprisingly bitter that his sense of comfort was so quickly being taken. That he so soon had to fall back to his long-held tactics for survival. And now he had her for a burden without the ability to push her safely into the waking world.

Aria didn't so much eat as she moved the contents of her bowl from one side of it to the other. She just couldn't bring herself to try to fill her belly when it was knotted and twisted and more likely that she would just waste the meal by throwing it up again later. Letting her spoon drop, she glanced up at her lover as she pushed the bowl his way. "I'm not really hungry. Go ahead and finish mine? I hate to waste it." At that she stood, took up the sport bottles and moved to the sink to fill them, glad for the fact that with her back turned Flinne would not be able to see her poignant expression. Aria tried to keep her tone light when she spoke. "So, when do you want to head out?"
 
It didn't so much as enter Flinne's mind that surviving would be more difficult with Aria along. "Microwaving leftovers is hardly cooking," He pointed out idly. When the microwave beeped, he produced the bowls with a rushed carefulness, and took to his own in a hurry. He ate his fill, and when Aria set hers aside, he frowned. Most of the food in the house would go to waste of course. Even so, he began to eat the second bowl of stew more slowly. "You'll have to learn to eat for fuel, even if you're not hungry." He said, gently, once he finished the food.

He washed the bowls once they were empty, and glanced at the piles that had diminished considerably since Aria had begun stowing what she could in the satchel, and pocketed a few of the things himself. A can opener for one, which could turn out to be a life-saver in a post-apocalyptic world. The sacks of fruit, and the loaf of bread each found a place dangling from one hand, while he filled the other arm with as many cans as he could carry. "We'd best head out now. Get back to your scientists as soon as we're able." If they were still in the same realm of existence, that was. He didn't voice the concern to his lover, for fear of panicking her. "I'll drive. Get the doors for me?"

He said, making good on his words, and heading towards the house's entrance. It had been quite some time since he'd driven, but if he was going to be honest with himself, it was something he'd been looking forward to doing ever since he'd appeared in Aria's home. "Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?"
 
After gathering what they could take and helping Flinne to load it into the beat-up old truck outside and a quick restroom break, Aria climbed into the passenger seat of the heap. The door gave a squealing groan as she closed it before pulling the worn and stained seatbelt across her chest and lap. When she was settled at last, Aria cast her gaze over to the face of her lover sitting in the driver's seat and for a brief moment wondered if he remembered how to drive. She didn't give voice to her concern, instead asking only "Are you ready to go?"

Aria's hand found Flinne's to rest atop it as they drove away from the farm, lifting and returning when he needed both hands for driving. The pastoral scenery was nice, and she found her mind able to wander as they drove. Still clinging to a small ray of hope and optimism, Aria tried to push the thoughts of the world ending aside. It was simply too big to deal with just then.

"Hey, what did you mean back there when you said they've changed the rules? What was different about that dream?" She asked quietly, the cracked and patched vinyl of the seat creaking as she turned to Look more fully at Flinne, her back against the door. "If we run into another one before we can get back to the University, I want to be prepared."
 
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