In Love with the Prince (of Darkness, That Is)

Taylor's condition worsened over the next few days, and the doctors diagnosed him pneumonia. They moved him into a sterilised isolation room until the infection passed, and Dreama was sure that the only things that kept her sane during the long hours that she couldn't spend with him were her conversations with Rick.

When the infection had finally passed and they could continue chemotherapy, Taylor was nothing more than yellowed skin stretched across his bones, and Dreama was constantly worried that another round of the illness-inducing "medication" was going to kill him.

"He's tougher than he looks," Rick said when Dreama confided her fears early one morning.

"No one is this tough," she whispered, looking over at Taylor. He was breathing heavily, if stably, and was shivering from his fever.

"Maybe he just needs a confidence booster."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

Rick grinned. "Leave it to me. It'll be ready by the time you come back."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?"

"I do. You haven't eaten in two days, and I think you've gone even longer without sleeping. I don't want to see you back in this room until tomorrow."

Dreama cast a nervous look at Taylor's sleeping form.

"I'll take care of him. Look after yourself for a bit."

*~*~*

Mr. and Mrs. Gable were sitting on the couches in the apartment when Dreama walked through the doors.

"My gosh, you look dead on your feet," Mrs. Gable said, jumping up. "I just made some breakfast--you should have some."

Dreama agreed half-heartedly and sat down on the couch while Taylor's mother brought her a plate. She ate silently while Mr. Gable watched her, making her uncomfortable.

"Do I have something on my face?" Dreama asked finally, irritated with the odd attention.

"No."

"Is there any particular reason you're staring at me?"

"Taylor's lucky to have you."

"It's the other way around, but I'm glad you approve."

"Why's that?"

"I plan to be around for a while, so it would be rather uncomfortable if you continued to hate me."

She stood and stumbled off to bed.

*~*~*

Dreama slept straight through until the next morning. Knowing there was little chance that Taylor would be awake, she forced herself to eat breakfast and then called Gemini for the first time in nearly two weeks and tried to talk about anything other than her current situation. Which of course meant that Gem did most of the talking, since Dreama's life revolved around Taylor and the hospital.

Gemini reacted the way Dreama had expected her to when she recounted the tale of her mugging: after expressing her gratitude that Dreama was alive and well, she laughed hysterically for five minutes at her friend's luck.

"Thanks for your support," Dreama said, though she was hardly surprised.

"What? It's funny. I mean, your first time ever doing anything anywhere in your whole life, and you get held at knife point by some coke head. Tell me how it's possible that you don't see humour in this!"

"Gee, I dunno--the knife at my jugular kind of ruined the comedy of the moment."

"Yeah, I could see how it might. But still--Taylor coming to the rescue like that; it's all very gallant. Does he hold the door for you, too?"

"Oh, shut up!" Dreama laughed.

They talked for an hour more, and then Gemini signed off on account of work, after making Dreama promise to call her again when she got a chance.

Dreama made the walk to the hospital and found Taylor and Rick both awake, though Taylor was looking far from animated.

"Ah ha. Part one complete," Rick announced when he saw her.

"What?"

"You know. The plan. You being here is part one."

"I see."

She sat between both beds and Taylor grinned wanly. "You look good."

"Well one of us has to. So what is this ingenious plan?" she asked Rick as a nurse came into the room and lifted him into a wheelchair.

"I know no further than that, actually." He chuckled. "I have to go to my rehab now--I'll be back in a couple hours. Don't have too much fun without me."

And he left.

"Did I ever thank you?" Taylor asked.

"For what?"

"Staying."

"You don't have to. I'm happy you're fighting."

Taylor sighed. "I don't know how much fight I have left in me."

"Does it help that I believe in you?"

"It does. A lot. But I don't... I don't know if I can do this."

Dreama could feel tears starting, but she tried to blink them away. "Why do you talk like that, like you're...." She trailed off.

Taylor attempted an eye-roll. "Am I the only one who can talk about dying? Mom and dad try to act like we're sitting at home in the basement instead of in a hospital, and you--"

"I don't want to think of a life without you. Is that so wrong?"

"You have to face reality, Dray."

"This is not reality! We've been through too much together for it to end like this."

Taylor reached out and took her hand. "Dray, I understand how you feel--I've never been more helpless or scared in my life than when I saw that knife, because I would die if I lost you. And I would willingly give up everything all over again if it meant that you were safe. But sometimes you have to accept that there's nothing left."

"I won't do that. They said this would work, and it's going to work."

A long silence passed between them while Dreama waited for Taylor to respond, or to see it her way. When it never came, she tightened her fingers around his and asked, "Are you afraid? Of... of dying?"

Taylor shook his head. "Not to die. I'm afraid that I'll never get to be the person you wanted me to. I was always too much of a coward to let you in, or disappointing you."

"That's not true. I love everything about you, even when you're being stubborn as hell."

"And I love that you still manage to see that when I'm acting like a total ass. Will you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"Good. Go into that drawer beside you."

Dreama obeyed and was surprised to find a video camera. "What the hell?"

Taylor just smiled cryptically and turned it on. "Now turn on the radio."

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Dreama did as he asked. Classical music flooded the room--Tschaicovsky.

"Dance for me," he commanded, training the video camera on her.

"What?"

"You told me you knew the ballet from the Nutcracker off by heart."

"Yeah, but--Taylor, I haven't danced ballet in years."

"It's just you and me. Please?"

Dreama sighed. "Only 'cause it's you."