Missing the Masquerade

[Dylan Cooper]

Half wishing for her to put up a fight, he knew it was only because he wished to vent some anger. His emotions raged, rampant throughout him and tossing and turning every which way. In only a few minutes he had gone from furious to apologetic, and even now was feeling a reversal of such things; his mind a torrent of anger, despair and the need to forgive her. Anger was a strange emotion – it took hold of you, forced you to do things you would never normally do, allowed you to vent things with irrational arguments. Dylan did not like feeling angry, especially not toward the only person who could understand his emotions and, obviously, thoughts, right now.

Logical arguments resided in numerous quantities upon her side, but Dylan ignored them. He knew that just that one sleep had helped him, that he too would not be able to bear seeing D’rorah in pain and sit back, doing nothing. He heard the word ‘please’, something he was not altogether accustomed to from D’rorah. He urgently attempted to suppress his almost overwhelming desires to yell at her. Words resided on the tip of his tongue, scalding words about how he was not her in any way. His calmer side urged him to be silent, to ensure that she would not leave him, that she would stay with him and hold him close to tell him that everything would be alright. Such childish thoughts, however, went largely unnoticed. It was all he wanted, and yet what he most detested within himself at present, to have her in his arms.

This thought in mind, his eyes saddened considerably as she moved away from him, to stand and stare out of a nearby window. He didn’t know why, all he knew was that she was no longer near to him. Upset, confused, and completely unsure as to what to do, Dylan felt everything finally beginning to overwhelm him. Her words only served to annoy him, however, but the attempted suppression of his angry reaction by no means aided him. Of course he didn’t want to have the nightmares, but he didn’t want D’rorah to have to lose sleep because of his own needs. Certainly, he didn’t know if anyone had ever called him selfish before. The more he thought about it, however, the more he realised that there was no way out of being selfish in this circumstance. If he were to accept her offer, continue to have peaceful dreams, she would be losing valuable sleep herself. If he were to decline her offer and endure the nightmares, it would more than likely slow his recovery, meaning that if any attack were to be incurred upon Hogwarts, the lightfighters would be without their Elemental Master of Earth.

Sighing in frustration, he felt his headache growing. “Dee…” He rather liked using her nickname, and on this particular occasion he said it quietly, his voice telling of his yearning for her, for the comfort he gained from her easy presence. “Dee, my love, it’s alright. Could you do it again, please? As long as you make sure you get some sleep soon,” he muttered quietly, wishing for her to leave her post at the window and take his hand within her own but saying nothing of such desires. Instead, he simply stretched his arm out as much as he could. It was not much, given the large, painful gash upon his shoulder, and his arm was tilted down significantly to reduce the angle for his shoulder, but it was something, and he hoped that it conveyed exactly what he needed from her.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

Standing at the window, D’rorah was pulling her own emotions under control, reinforcing her own mental barriers through her own exhaustion. Hearing her name uttered softly, she did not turn or make any motion to acknowledge the sound, waiting to see whether he would choose to keep his nightmares or would allow her to help. She snorted derisively as he put a conditional on the end of his statement. To be chained by such soft utterances, to have conditions attached to her help—it didn’t suit her at all. She continued to look out the window for several more minutes, too consumed by the process of erecting her own barriers to pay much attention to the emotion in his voice, too jealous of the night of sleep he had seemed to so resent in the face of her own hideous nights to care much at the moment.

“Very well,” she agreed finally, feeling as though she had some hold on her own mind again. “Tell me when you are ready to sleep.” Her words sounded cold and formal. Turning to face him once again, she saw a hand stretched out to her and her eyebrow arched. With no further word, she moved to the chair at the bedside, foregoing the seat she had previously occupied on the edge of the bed. She reached down and grasped his hand. “I should not have allowed my emotional entanglement with you to influence my treatment of the situation. I apologize for that overstepping of my boundaries,” she remarked simply.

Can’t you see he wants more from you than D’rorah the researcher? Her mind screamed at her. Open up to him… don’t let one mistake on your part, one small argument, drive you away from him.

But the other part of her, the emotional part, didn’t wish to be close to anyone right now. She had needed someone who understood her, and right now Dylan did not. He had no idea how telepathy really worked, the painful series of decisions which had happened in her mind the split second before she had put up the barriers the first time for him. That part of her was still hurt and holding back, expecting that at any moment he would simply tell her to leave. She damned the curse of her mind, of her whole existence at that moment, thinking anyone else would have been a better choice for the role that had been thrust upon her.

No one knew exactly what it was like. No one had ever asked or cared either… most simply took it for granted that she could read minds, that something about her intellect made it possible for her to learn things more quickly than her fellow students. They saw only a cold girl whose interests ran to the darker side of magic, an exacting girl who demanded much of her peers and more of herself… someone who should be ostracized and set apart. But she had learned not to let it bother her; it was simply the way things were… from Dylan however… from him she had hoped for ever so much more. She had gotten it, true; he was more than she had ever deserved, but still… she yearned for him to truly understand her… she had thought, up until his moment of anger, that he had. That brief moment of his anger had hurt far more than any taunt or criticism she had received in all her years of being shunned by her peers. Mordred understood to a degree; as her Elemental Master, he knew her thoughts and he knew logically everything that occurred in her life; the difference was that, though he understood, he didn’t particularly care any further than the business of the Shadow Wars required. Her relationship with him was, as it should be, purely business… perhaps it was best if all of her relationships remained the same. But no, even the thought of such a thing, of giving up Dylan, caused an ache in her heart akin to having it physically ripped out of her chest.

[Dylan Cooper]

As she snorted at his comments, no anger was left to reside within him. More hurt than he ever could have imagined from such a small action, he knew that behind it were things much larger, things which cut right through him as she refused to face him, her attention obviously still diverted inwards. Remembering briefly the only other argument he’d had with D’rorah, his mind found itself in the courtyard of Hogwarts, seated opposite to her. The pain that had come from that particular incident, however, dulled in quiet comparison to what he felt at present. Finally, she turned to face him once more, but her tone of voice by no means alleviated anything within him. She had once more put her barriers up around him, or so it seemed. It was a small, if not insignificant, comfort that she took his hand right when he’d been about to drop it back to his side. Her arched eyebrow, her emotionless voice as she spoke to him said more than the actual content of her words ever could and he yearned to yank his own hand from hers, and to be rid of such difficulties forever.

Coming very close to doing just such a thing, he reluctantly found her eyes. What could he have possibly done so wrong to make her act like this? Was he not allowed to get angry about the fact that she had invaded him so without asking? It was not that he was not appreciative of the good night’s sleep he had received, or of the fact that she disadvantaged herself away from sleep to do so, by any means. It was that she had not thought to ask him, to consult him about it, when he believed them to have shared everything. It had only caused an ensuing doubt about what else she may have hidden from him, no matter the reasoning she might have held. Having almost no idea why she was reacting so strongly, seemingly closing herself off from him, he knew his eyes held an immensely hurt and confused expression, as did the rest of his face.

Looking away from her eyes, he stared unseeingly at the covers of his bed, feeling the annoying encroachment of what he would never admit were tears and holding them back with all of his might. Extremely tempted to just tell her to leave, he knew that any kind of awkwardness was better than being without her, not knowing where she was or if she was okay. As long as both of them remained, there was a much higher chance that this newly-developed gap between them could be sewn together. So confused about what to do, unable to even collect his thoughts for more than a minute or two, Dylan lay hopelessly upon his bed. He wished to get up and leave, a hint of the dramatic coming over him, but he knew that there might be no way back if such a thing happened, or if he sent her away. He could not do that, at any cost, and he felt slightly contented to have that finally confirmed. One less thing to worry about, to plague his already full-to-the-brim mind. Dylan wished he had someone to tell him what to do, but the person he was closest to in this world was sitting before him, the only person he could not talk to. Loathing himself because of the rift he seemed to have caused, he yearned to push her away, to prevent any further harm from creeping into his heart.

Finally, the pain in his arm overcame his will and he lowered it softly back to his bedside, bringing her own with it. He savoured the contact, using it to try and gain some strength of mind. It didn’t help much, though. An overwhelming feeling of loss was developing within him, and he stoically refused to admit it. He had not lost her yet, and he would do everything possible to ensure that he did not. Considering her reaction to his last words, he felt hopeless as to finding something suitable to say. He attempted to push away the encroaching thoughts of how his mother might react to this… But they became more and more insistent. She’s being selfish, dear, it’s what women do. She should be focusing on you, you’re the one who’s hurt. I’ve told you from the start that one was no good, she’s deceptive, smart. I told you she would turn on you as soon as difficulties arose. Break it off, and save yourself the heartache. Yes, his mother was a real charmer. She had indeed told him that the somewhat cold, austere manner with which D’rorah had used toward Astraeus would be used against him one day soon, and Dylan adamantly refused to accept such a thing. She was not doing this out of spite; she was evidently only hurting just as much as he was at moment.

Thinking it was for the best, Dylan changed his mind to what he had previously decided. About to suggest that they both rest for a while, he remembered that going to bed angry was never positive; it allowed one to dwell on their anger, for it to manifest ever more, plaguing all thoughts. Resisting an urge to sigh, his usually sharp mind was at a complete loss. Odd, really, considering this was perhaps the one time he needed it most; for the sake of both his mental and emotional states, anyway. His thoughts were threatening to tear him apart and he second-guessed every move he wished to make. He wanted to close his eyes, but perceived that she would see it as a sign of weakness. He wished to sigh audibly, but such an action was sure to give her the feeling that he was tired of fighting, too weak to do anything useful. So, his mind had reverted back to this when he was around her… He didn’t like it one bit.

Going over many possibilities in a small frame of time, he covered endless amounts of things, sometimes even repeating a concept in an attempt to discover a hole in his previous reasoning, sometimes just because he was desperately hoping to just find something. ‘I love you’s and ‘I’m sorry’s sprang into his mind regularly, each time causing a different potential outcome to form in his mind. If he didn’t envision her becoming angry at his attempts to weasel out of whatever terrible crime he had committed, he imagined her simply becoming frustrated at his lack of effort. Perhaps she would believe him to be trying to patch everything over with a few simple words, instead of working through it. Whatever she might think, he was staying well clear of those words, because no outcome appeared to have a happy ending. Nothing appeared to have a happy ending, and while it might have simply been Dylan himself strictly creating these negative responses, he could think of nothing else after she had snorted so derisively toward him, raised her eyebrow so heartlessly.

He found himself completely and utterly stuck; unwilling to move in case he angered her even more, unsure of what he could possibly say or do that would allow her walls to come down again. In amongst the turmoil, he became incredibly frustrated that he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even vent his frustration for fear of upsetting her; Dylan Cooper was, quite literally, powerless. His eyes remained downcast, tears of frustration threatening to overcome them. His hands fidgeted lightly, the only part of himself he could really bear to look at any longer. And to top it all off, his head, covered in burns and scars, was absolutely throbbing in pain.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah watched the hurt and confusion in Dylan's eyes. It was nearly enough to tear her heart clean in two as she struggled with herself. She was still deep in thought when he brought his hand back to rest at the bedside. Her thoughts raced, thinking he would surely say something... anything. Was it so wrong to want someone to understand? Surely, she deserved at least that... as his eyes drifted away from hers, she blinked a few times, certain that at any moment he would ask her to leave. She loved him. Why was she finding it so hard to simply speak her mind? She had never had a problem like this before. Were they even really arguing? At the moment, they were simply not speaking, and that hurt as much as the words had. She wondered if she should try to explain; or if it would merely sound like she was making excuses.

She raised from her seat slowly, quietly, coming to rest once again on the edge of his bed. Her eyes were focused solely on their joined hands as she began to speak, afraid of what she might see in his eyes if she watched. She would have preferred the Mage's torture to maintaining this silence between her and the only living person she was truly close to. The only person she had ever been so close to.

"Dylan," she began, her voice soft but still somewhat firm. The tone had lost some of its edge, but retained a trace of it as she was still trying to keep her emotions and her own mental barriers up. "It is difficult to explain. I am not accustomed to explaining myself to others or having to seek their approvals or opinions for the actions I carry out. Typically, I would never enter anyone's mind without first obtaining express permission."

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts for what she had to say. She would likely only have one chance, and she didn't want to muck it up any worse than she had already managed to. "First, I must explain something of myself to you or you will never understand. Being a telepath is not simply the ability to read the minds and emotions of others. It is a far heavier burden to carry." She blinked as her thumb traced absently over the back of his hand, her tone softening just a bit more as she spoke again. "I find myself constantly awash in the thoughts and emotions of others. I must constantly maintain barriers around my own mind for the sake of my sanity and survival. Even with those barriers raised, I can still hear the sounds of the thoughts of others all around me... I have spent years learning to fade those energies into the background, to ignore them so that others might have their privacy while constantly searching for ways to strengthen those barriers. My own emotions impede the establishment of those barriers." She took a deep breath, hoping he would not misunderstand her next statement.

"When I am around you, for the first time ever, I find myself attempting to hold my mental barriers through the pull of my own strong emotions. I am learning but..." she trailed off for a moment. "It is nearly impossible for me to be around you when you are experiencing any intense thought or emotion without feeling some effect from it. When your nightmare began last night, you were already on the edges of sleep. I was faced with a difficult decision." She paused, she would have to simplify this quite a bit. "Foremost among those decisions was whether to wake you and ask if you would permit me to barricade your mind against your dreams, thereby interrupting your sleep and negating the purpose of helping in the first place. Or, would I simply sit by and do nothing, trying to ignore your pain and escape the throes of your emotions." She paused and took a deep breath. "Or, do what I did and put up the barrier without asking? The last choice was, to me, the most logical. But that sparked off a landslide of other thoughts and concerns. Of course, as we both know, I decided on the last course of action."

She shook her head. "Had I not allowed my own emotions to overtake my judgment, I may have been able to ignore your mental distress and perhaps I could have simply allowed you to sleep in... well, without my interference." Her eyes continued to study the back of his hand intently as she found the will the continue, wanting him to understand, needing him to understand.

"You see, after my attacks, I had no one to do such a thing for me. I remember the nightmares. I still have them to this day, in fact. What I did for you... I would give anything to have someone do for just one night so that I might sleep without... well," she sniffed a bit, as though her nose itched when she was in reality now fighting back her own tears. "Your anger, the fact that you did not understand... the fact that I felt the same shunning from you that I had felt from others who simply didn't care to understand hurt... and I reacted poorly."

"My cold demeanor is a defense mechanism... I had to bring my emotions under control so that I could regain some semblance of order in my mind. Allowing my emotions to rage too strongly, thus defeating my mental barriers, can be fatal if no one is around to assist with guarding my mind when it happens." She paused again. "I was not trying to be distant to hurt you... I was hurting, and I had to bring that under control for my own safety."

"And then, then you offer to allow me to help you if I promise to sleep." A tear formed, stuck at the corner of her eye. "You cannot imagine who blissful a night of true, pleasant sleep would be. And you... you offered to allow me to help as though I had any other option which would allow me to retain my sanity." Her next breath, drawn in an effort to calm her, shuddered a bit. "I do apologize for lying about it. I should have told you immediately upon waking. Lying to you was one of the hardest things I have ever done and not an action I ever wish to repeat... I only thought... to wait to have this conversation until you were recovered, until you were feeling better. You have so much to deal with now already." At this last statement, the tear which had been lurking in the corner of her eye finally escaped, trailing down her cheek silently. "I merely thought to spare you from having to face this until the other thoughts in your mind had settled somewhat. So, I do apologize..." She trailed off for good this time, her eyes finally coming up slowly to meet his, ready to face whatever she might see reflected there, not certain whether she would like what she saw.

[Dylan Cooper]

Noticing her standing movements from the corner of his eye, Dylan nearly cringed in the negative anticipation of what was surely to come. His heart craved to explain, to apologise, to do something. His mind was being largely uncooperative, however. Finding that she neither left nor began to berate him for whatever it was he did to offend and hurt her so mightily, he released the breath he hadn’t registered that he was holding as she took a seat on the edge of the bed he was currently forced to occupy.

Hearing his name called softly, he recognised the firmness behind it and willed it to be his presently overactive imagination. Almost shuddering as she inhaled deeply, he braced himself. What was produced from her mouth next, however, was not at all what he was expecting. Listening intently as she explained the feeling of being a telepath, Dylan realised just how little he understood that particular trait of D’rorah. Feeling the soft stroking over the back of his hand, he settled down a bit, sure that the worst was over and content to find things going back to normal. He had never before realised just how dangerous telepathy was, how much she had to do just to ensure she got two moments of what could never be assured as peace. His eyes losing their despair somewhat, they gained more of a sympathetic adjustment as he considered just how complex the ability was.

His gaze rising as she carefully explained her difficulties in being around him, he felt slightly guilty that she had to work so much harder just by being in his presence when he himself could do so with such unrealised ease. He had realised what she had done for him last night, but he recognised now that there was a greater extent to her decision. His eyes finally losing all trace of dejection, they attempted to find hers but were unable. Finding that he could not possibly be angry with her, not now, his expression was grievous in nature as he realised she would not have had anyone to aid in her recovery, to care about her recovery. He wished he had known her at such a time, so that he could have been there just as she was for him now, to comfort her and let her know that she had not lost everyone with the initial attack, and still had him after her torture within the Shadow Realm. Remembering exactly how he’d felt upon seeing the images of her broadcast from Keaira’s mind, he had no doubt that she’d felt exactly the same when she had seen him; probably even as she had approached the Hospital Wing, trailing his furry patronus.

She was speaking as if he was not appreciative of what she had done for him, something he decided to ignore in light of the rest of her words. This was not the time for semantics, and alleviating his own need to be understood, usually so completely overwhelming within him, was pushed aside so that he could focus on her. Watching her face intently, he felt ashamed of himself for having given in to his anger and released it upon her. “I did not mean to make you feel shunned, D’rorah. I’m sorrier than you could imagine for forcing those feelings within you,” he replied quietly, his hand squeezing hers lightly as she continued.

He understood completely her use of a defensive mechanism; he held one himself. He’d simply avoided conflict, expressed emotions and connections with others for so long that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to have friends. The loss of his father, his best friend, had hit him hard at barely seven years old and he’d finally learned to cope, only to lose his foster father. Of course, John had never helped; Dylan had sought friendship a few weeks after Darius had died, looking for someone to ease his suffering; someone who could respond in human speech. John’s tendency to bully Dylan had put potential friends off more effectively than a skin disease might ever have, and very soon he had learned to close himself off completely.

Taken aback at the inconsiderate words he had unknowingly uttered, he realised just how terrible they sounded when he was provided with the background information. In all fairness, he had not known such things at the time he had spoken the words, but he doubted that would help improve what she must have felt as she heard them. Seeing the tear tracing down his face, his heart was nearly cleaved in two. He realised then just how much of a prat he had been and felt remorse overcome him in his entirety. Finding her eyes finally meet his own, he knew his own expressed a sympathy and guilt that pertained only to his very own actions. “D’rorah, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realise…” As if that made up for his complete disregard of her feelings. Feeling just slightly undeserving of looking into her eyes, his own were clouded with shame as he lowered them to their intertwined hands.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

"Of course you did not realize," she replied quietly. "How could you realize something I never explained?" She shook her head slightly, her hair swaying lightly with the movement. It was still coifed for the dance, just as she was still dressed in the dress robes Dylan himself had selected for the occasion. Her free hand moved to his chin, lifting it carefully so that she might look into his eyes. "Please, shall we just move on from here? We had one misunderstanding after the other... neither one truly meant any harm." She gave a tired half-smile. "I love you and I want you to be well as quickly as possible. Allow me to shield your thoughts for one night so you may recuperate more quickly and I will try to be more open." Her smile lifted a bit, becoming more complete. "I am unused to having to explain myself... mostly because I am unused to having anyone around who is interested in the explanation."

She felt immense relief at knowing that he cared, that he wanted to understand. Of course, it had been hard for him to understand while she was withholding the necessary background information. And where else might he have picked it up besides her? She wanted to curl up beside him and just be for a while, but knew that it could never happen while they were at Hogwart's. Instead, she would settle for watching him sleep, knowing that he was having a pleasant, recuperative sleep once again.

Her free hand came to rest on his cheek. "Sleep now," she bid quietly. "We can talk more after you wake if you wish. You are exhausted. I will be here when you wake." At this last statement, she gave a soft smile that reached all the way to her eyes. She felt extremely fortunate that he had understood after she had explained, that he had not persisted in accusing her of looking into his thoughts. "You are so remarkable, Dylan Cooper," she added quietly, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his lips.

[Dylan Cooper]

Accepting her comments without a word, he felt a soft hand come to rest beneath his chin, bidding that he raise it. Acquiescing, his eyes were unable to focus on anything but her own. The thoughts in his head were represented accordingly, though through her mouth instead of his own; something he regarded as a good sign. They were really very alike, in many ways. A light smile unable to be contained, it rose onto his face and he found that he was very, very lucky to have her; despite their most recent disagreement, Dylan knew that if either of them were any less of themselves, it would still be occurring, the unbelievable sense of awkwardness would still be pervading the entire room. He was slightly unsettled by how easily he had wanted to give up. While it was true that his other half had fought back admirably, he had been moments from demanding her to leave numerous times, moments from simply raising his walls and never putting them down again.

Apparently, he was still not very accustomed to having such feelings, to sharing himself with someone so completely. He knew that if they had not been through everything they had, had not just spent endless hours becoming closer by the minute, Dylan would most probably have given up on this argument a long time ago. As it was, he knew that he would never normally have reacted the way he did; he had been hurt by her lies, despite their intentions, but he would never have spoken to her the way he did before he’d been attacked. His temperament had obviously been greatly affected, as he found his anger rising to the surface more and more in the ensuing days of the unfortunate event.

Put out that he could not simply nod in response, he was forced to find words that he wasn’t really in the mood to; he was, indeed, a boy of few words. “Moving on sounds good,” he replied quietly, appreciating the growing smile upon her face and mirroring it with a small one of his own. Refusing to heed the nagging thought that still wished to deny her aid and send her to sleep, he realised that he was incredibly sad at the idea that she had been forced to endure her nightmares ever since the night her parents had died, while he had only had them for a few days and was already being offered a readily acceptable way out. Wishing he had some way to lessen her pain, he gained a new-found respect for her that only built on the admiration he already held for the woman into whose eyes he became lost. “Okay…” he said lightly, thinking of nothing else that would suffice in the accepting of her words.

His head moving ever-so-slightly, so as not to aggravate his injuries too much, he leant into her hand, savouring the contact. At her words, he felt the exhaustion he had earlier suppressed wash over him once more. His eyelids became heavier by the second and he yearned to keep them open, all the better to view the face before him that was lit with a glorious smile. Feeling her lips reach his, he returned the kiss softly, the smallest of smiles creeping onto his features. “I’m not so remarkable any more, it seems,” he commented quietly, thinking of everything that had changed within him. His fatigued body finally taking over, his eyes closing, the smile had disappeared from his face. “I love you, Dee,” he stated quietly, fading into quiet oblivion, the hand he held within hers slackening its grip considerably as mind and body shut down in sync.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

"You are still very remarkable," she rebutted quietly. She watched as his eyes closed, his face slackening and losing its small smile as he began to drift off into sleep. "I love you too," she whispered back. She moved her hand up his cheek softly, her fingertips coming to rest lightly at his temple. She eased into his mind, carefully erecting the barriers she had used the night before to protect his sleep from the nightmares after his attack.

As she sat there, her eyes roamed over Dylan's form. In the fading light, he looked exhausted and in need of a good meal. She sighed quietly, preparing herself for another long night of sitting vigil.