The Children of Hypnos

s|a|n|d|m|a|n

                   

Marcia sends Emery and Wes back upstairs.

They only needed the keys to get in, she tells them, not to get out.

She doesn't let the door close as she watches them go down the hallway. After a moment, once everything has fallen silent again, she steps back into the room and shuts the door behind her.

He manages to find some happiness in this situation, but he keeps it corked. Marcia doesn't look angry. She doesn't come through the Plexiglas wall to punch the daylights out of him. She does search him, carefully, looking over every inch of him, like she used to look over her axe for dings or scratches, though she knew there would never be any. And she is quiet. She has never been this quiet.

"Mar," he says.

She says, "I thought you left because you were scared. I thought you went far away. If I had known you were still here, I would have gone after you. By the time I did know, the dean wouldn't let me. He said it was a conflict of interest."

"He thought you'd let me go. Showed him, didn't you?"

Marcia scowls. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything before you left?"

"I figured you would have wanted to come with me."

"Of course I would have. We were partners."

"And then your father would have hunted both of us to the ends of the Earth. I might be a coward, Mar, but I'm not stupid. You're from a dreamhunter family. I'm not. You're important; I'm nobody. I know they were happy when I left because they didn't try very hard to find me. If you went, the entire North American Ward would've been out scouring the streets."

"So you were going to let me sit here," she says, "and be a gym teacher?"

He levels a stare at her. "Your guilt trips aren't going to work. You could have gotten a new partner."

She crosses her arms, pouting in a way only Marcia can, which looks a bit like snarling. "I didn't want a new partner."

He leans his head against the wall and folds his hands at the small of his back, trapping them against the concrete. "I really missed you, Mar. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. I would've liked it better if you were with me. I'm sorry."

I'm sorry echoes in his head several more times, but he keeps the words inside. She used to hate hearing that. She hated hearing it since the first time, after the poison. He wishes there was no Plexiglas between them. He wishes a lot of things—freedom from the Fenhallow Underground, no nightmares, the last three years back—but right now he mostly wishes for the Plexiglas gone.

Marcia takes one last step forward and rests her forehead against it. She stares at a spot near his feet, expression still screwed up, arms still crossed.

"They're going to give you a new guard after this," she says softly. "Might as well make the most of it."

There's a tug in the Sandman's gut. It pulls him away from the wall, and slowly, carefully, he steps up to the Plexiglas. They can't touch, he reminds himself. And there is DreamLess running through his system, so even if he wanted to form his armor, he can't. He won't poison her. He has to bow his head only slightly to rest his forehead on the opposite side of the wall from hers. She stares at him. He smiles.

"We're going to figure out what all this is about doppelgängers," she says.

"Well," he says, "you will. I think my part is pretty much finished."

"Shut up," she hisses, though she doesn't pull away from the glass. "They aren't going to put you through dream death."

"They will when my doppelgänger shows up. You and I both know that's not far away."

Even mentioning it makes his mind spiral. The tornado picks up.

"They're going to give you the same grace period they give everyone else," she insists. "I'll make them. And I'll help you."

"He's going to be terrifying, Mar—"

"I'm terrifying," she growls, and it's such an honest response, he starts to giggle. She has always stood up for him, even when she had enough on her hands trying to stand up for herself. His laughter seems to crack something open inside her, and she relaxes, and then she starts to smile, too.

Carefully, he puts just his fingertips up against the Plexiglas. Marcia glances at them, then rests hers on the opposite side, their hands mirrored. She does it without hesitation. Even after everything, his poison is only an issue to him.

He tries very very hard not to giggle again.

"This is so cliched," she says.

"Not to me," he replies.