Hush

I had a dream last night.

What I remember is being with "Tristan", as in the same room and talking "with", and it didn't take me long to inwardly figure out that it wasn't the real Tristan but in fact Jake.  I think.  He sure didn't act like Tristan (moody, demanding and generally unpleasant company) and reminded me more of Jake's behavior (warm, pleasant, caring, not that Tristan isn't these things but Jake just wore them on his sleeve a lot more).  Anyhow, there was some sort of debate on whether he was staying, going, my role in all of this, it was confusing to me but I do know I had something to do with his trepidation.

We sought out a man he knew, this guy who I assumed was a member of his band?  Imagine a cross between Kurt Cobain and.....actually, Tristan's sister's fiance.  Weird, now that I think of it.  I'm pretty sure it WAS Tristan's soon-to-be brother-in-law.  Whoever this guy was, he told us to join hands and the three of us sat around a table in a circle, holding each other's hands.  The man told Tristan-Jake to repeat after him, and the words went something like this:

Man: "I promise to be here"
T-J: I promise to be here
Man: "I forever bind myself to Mira"
T-J: [swallows hard and looks at me] I forever bind myself to Mira
Man: "I will never leave"
T-J: I will never leave
Man: "I bind myself to her, heart and soul, for all eternity"
T-J: I bind myself to her, heart and- wait

I looked at him, worried, terrified actually that this was going to end the same way it always does in real life (I was half-aware that what I was seeing wasn't actually happening) with him getting cold feet and me left "at the altar".  In fact, it happens a lot in my dreams, mainly with the persona assumed to be Tristan.  But this was different.

Tristan-Jake looked at me and then the man, and squeezed my hand reassuringly.  "It's not that I don't love here, I do, a LOT, but if I stay here she'll be in danger and I don't know if I can put her through that-"

The man held up a hand and looked at him sternly.  "This has to be done.  You can't leave her alone.  Again."

I cleared my throat and tried to help.  "No, I understand what he's saying, [name I forget], it has been very dangerous for both of us to even be together in the simplest of ways."

"To bind her to me and visa versa for all eternity," T-J quickly added, "means she'll always be in danger."  The look he gave me was so vivid, so...filled with terror.  "Mira," he said quietly, "I'm scared."

I felt the emotion of pure fear as strongly as anyone would in real life.  It was the most tangible thing in the dream, and somehow I knew it wasn't my own I was feeling, but his.  I gave him a soft smile and some part of my mind started to attempt a sort of "connection" with his real-life mind as I said, "I'm terrified.  I really am.  But I need you with me so we can face this together."







When I woke up, reality hit me like a truck.  Whatever the hell that dream meant, I knew one thing for certain: I'd never truly examined the screamingly obvious that's been in front of me for 2 years.

When Jake was around and we were together, it was a constant dodge of bullets, ducking of knives, hiding from men in black uniforms....he protected me and trained me to be able to survive the harshest environments in case he wasn't around and I was stranded somewhere in the wilderness.  Death threats were written on my bathroom mirror, I can't count on one hand how many times I've cleaned up his blood from knives, wounds and floors shortly after emerging from whatever closet/basement/car he shoved me into prior to the silent but intense confrontation.  Assassins emerged, my college narrowly escaped a massacre (unfortunately only by misinformation via tampered intelligence....another campus paid dearly for it), all in all the three years we were together were intense.  The powers-that-be did NOT want us together.

Jake left, Tristan came "home", and suddenly things are very, very quiet.  Only once did I get shoved into an attic but by another of his doubles, a man we knew as Derek.  Ah, Derek, I would say that I miss you, but Tristan is ssooooooooo much like you that it's like you live on through his general unpleasantness.  Derek was very much a by-the-book, get-er-done kind of guy, who confided with Jake that I started out as just an assignment and somehow became like a little sister he had to protect.

From the journal I used to keep:

I woke up at 8:30am this morning, and to my surprise Tristan still slept.  He was usually awake by now, maybe not out of bed but definitely in the waking up stages.  He continued to sleep, and so did I once I fell back asleep, for about an hour and a half.  Finally I figured it was breakfast time, and I rolled over and smiled at him.  He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

I peeked over his arm and flashed him a cute smile.  "Hi."

Tristan rolled his eyes, and that struck me as a bit strange.  He usually loves my cuteness.  I stroked his arm for a bit, playing connect-the-dots with his freckles, then lay my head on his chest.  Usually he would put one of his arms around me and stroke my hair.  This time he only sighed and didn't move.  I figured he may be in a mood so I asked him what he wanted for breakfast, he asked me what we had, and then decided none of our many options sounded good.  So with a shrug and a quick kiss on his lips (which he did not return) I rolled out of bed to get an orange for my breakfast.

As I started peeling my blood orange, Tristan got up and paced around in the kitchen for a bit, and at one point picked up a large knife and began rubbing it against his shorts.  Immediately I knew something was up and he didn't want to worry me.  "So, um, what's with the knife?" I casually asked.

He shrugged.  "It was a bit sticky on the sides."  He put it down on the stove, then came around and wrapped his arms around my chest.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Okay, what?"  I shuffled backwards as he led me back towards the microwave, where a bundle of neckties lay.  Tristan picked up the ugly silver paisley tie and played it in his fingers for a moment.  "Hmmm, interesting tie," he said.

I furrowed my brow.  This was strange.  "Um, yeah, I thought you bought it."

"Oh yeah," he mumbled.   He took the tie in both his hands, which were still in front of me, and began wrapping each end around his hands. 

I took this opportunity to gently but firmly pull myself out of his hold and turn around, but he did not let go of me.  He held onto my arm as I, with a playful smile, worked the necktie from his hands just like this was some new game we were playing.  It was then he lifted my hand and wiggled the ring on my finger.

"Nice ring."

That answered enough questions for me to know this was not right.  "Thanks, you gave it to me."

In that moment I think the unspoken message was sent, and we both knew this was going to be interesting. 

"I need you to do something for me," he said again, working one of my arms behind my back.  I swung around just enough to look at him with my playful grin and alert eyes.

"Jake taught me to never make a deal without the details," I reminded him with a hint of warning in my voice.  He scoffed just a bit, then pulled me close to him, rather forcefully I might add, and put my hands behind my back.  I twisted around and kept my feet planted in the fighting stance I had learned in my early teens in kickboxing, and  tensed up to silently let him know I was not going to make this easy.  Again he pulled me close but this time his hand clamped down hard over my mouth and most of my face.

"Shhhhhh, shhhhh," he whispered.  I couldn't help but raise a brow at him, for I hadn't uttered a sound.

"Cooom you bweez memoov ur thumb fum my eye?" I said against his hand.  He moved his thumb down, and I blinked a few times until  I was comfy again.  "Famk you."

"I need you to do something for me," he repeated.

"Yeff, I godd dat."

Again we moved back towards the neckties, but I resisted just enough that we were closer to the stove.  I saw the knife, and I think he saw me see the knife, for instantly we both lunged a hand towards the hilt and our fingers did a little dance until mine wrapped around the hilt and I gripped it tight.  For a fleeting moment I felt like I had done this before, as my mother almost, and in my mind's eye I saw my 2 year-old self standing in the bedroom doorway.  I dismissed that, and kept myself poised to attack, just as Jake had taught me only a few years ago.

Neither of us moved.  "I need you to go into the attic, and stay there until I come get you," he said, still calm, but I knew he was watching my arm that wielded the 7-inch blade.  I mumbled my agreement into his hand, and we shuffled our way towards the attic door.

"Dood, mm nod gonna skweem oh nnyting." I rolled my eyes again, and he let me go.

"You can get your shoes, I suggest you wear them up there."

I slipped my tennis shoes on and shoved my cell phone into my hoodie pocket, still gripping that knife and ready for any false moves.

"And I mean all the way up in the attic, not just on the stairs."

"Ugh, fine, whatever."  I slowly made my way up those dirty, most likely rotting stairs, tense for anything or anyone who could jump out at me at any moment.  "Keep going," he urged behind me in that annoying scolding voice.  I got to the very top of the stairs, took one step off the landing, and he closed the attic door behind me.

I could hear thumps, and footsteps, then more thumps.  At one point it sounded like someone, or two people, were rolling around.  Silence.  More thumps.  Footsteps drawing closer, then the front door opened, and I could hear someone running down the stairs.  Then back up.  This went on in circles for a good 10 minutes, and I had my phone on silent in case there WERE others here.  The only other time I had ever been put into a hiding place was with Jake, when men came into the church where we were and attacked him.  He had hid me in a closet office and promised to come back for me when it was over, and here in the attic I reminded myself that wasn't so bad.  I prayed, I asked God to protect Tristan and myself, and I waited.  It became quiet for a bit, maybe a slight scurrying over the roof just above me, but mostly silent.  Then I heard footsteps running up the stairs to the foyer, and someone walking around. 

I checked my phone, and Tristan was calling me.  Was it finally safe? "Hello?" I answered in a half-whisper.

"Mira? Where are you?"

It was Tristan's voice.  I felt a knot in my stomach.  "What do you mean, where am I?" And I quickly hung up, knowing more than 30 seconds and anyone could track my location.  He kept trying to call me, then he sent me a text message that read, "Where are you? You need to come Home [sic]!"

I heard footsteps near the attic door, and it opened, and I watched the shadow slowly inch up the stairs until Tristan's head popped around the corner, and then his whole body.

He was wearing completely different clothes.  He was in his uniform.

"Mira!"  Tristan sighed with relief and stabbed the knife he was holding into the wood stair.  But then he saw what I was holding in my own hand and froze. "What are you doing with a knife?"

"What are YOU doing with a knife?" I retorted, pointing at him with my blade.

"Okay, Mira, just…put the knife down and come down here."  Tristan spoke slowly and gestured with his hand that it was okay for me to lower my weapon, but I was not about to succumb so easily.

"What is something only Tristan would know?"

He sighed and shook his head.  "Like what?"

"I don't know.  How do I know who you are? Whoever you are?"

It was all making sense to me, but I didn't want to give in only to be ambushed.  "I will come down, but I am not letting go of my knife."  This was good enough for him, and he backed up and let me out of the attic.  We went into the kitchen, me staring at him the entire time intently and swallowing hard.  "You put me up there," I said slowly.

Tristan looked in my eyes, and I knew he wasn't lying.  "Mira, I haven't been home all morning."

.....

"Are you okay?" The real Tristan, my Tristan, asked me.  I nodded, and he pulled me into his arms and held me close, and I could smell the sweat on his body that told me he had indeed been out all morning doing who knows what with his group.  I set my knife down and just held him as he held me.  "I'm glad you're okay," he muttered into my hair.

I told him what happened, and he sighed and mumbled a few colorful words under his breath.  "I left around 1am this morning," he said as we shared stories in the kitchen.  "Then about half an hour ago they told me to go home and get you."

"What exactly was said?"

He laughed a bit.  Of course I would press for details. "My certain individuals just said, 'Derek's there', and I knew where they meant, so I got a ride home and ran up here.  I couldn't find you anywhere, and you weren't answering my calls, which worried me like heck!"

"Sorry," I blushed and told him why.  He just smiled and continued "So I thought of the one place anyone would be hiding, and grabbed a knife and went up there."

We talked some more, and lay down on our bed and just held each other.  I listened to his heartbeat as he stroked my hair, and for a while I propped myself up on my elbows just so I could study his face.  "I'm proud of you," he said as he twirled a strand of my hair in his fingers.  That made me smile even more, and I kissed him lovingly and purred inside as I felt him kiss me back.

Ah yes, the good old days before Tristan decided he can't stand spending more than 5 minutes with me.....

Anyhow, that whole scenario was the one and only time Tristan and I ever had to worry about anything or anyone directly attacking us.  Sure, we hurriedly fled to the west when he thought people were after us, but it was nothing as up-close-and-personal as things were with Jake around.

Which leads to my question:  what I Tristan NOT telling me about Jake?

Let's recap: 

Tristan: young, exiled prince of an intergalactic nation that is in charge of interaction and relations between the ancient civilizations and Earth.  Powerful, skilled, riddled with special abilities and great mental capacity, destined to become the ruling elder of the most ancient human civilization in our solar system if not the universe.  On Earth, vulnerable, and for all intents and purposes, raving mad.  

Jake: young Marine, orphaned, disfigured from an explosion somewhere in the Middle East, genuinely sweet demeanor, identity erased, for all intents and purposes, nothing of incredible value insofar as to be used in the game of world politics.  

So why the hell does everyone go on a death-to-all rampage while Tristan is AWAY and stop when he returns and Jake leaves?

I'm going to have a chat with Tristan.  I am so done with all these secrets.