Cruising
by Yasmin M. (the_jentayu@hotmail.com)

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A little something for January's theme. I just can't resist a challenge. :)

This fic was written under the influence of The Whitlams' "Eternal Nightcap" album -- courtesy of Rossi, who has earned a permanent place on the altar of gods I'd worship if I wasn't agnostic. ;) Lyrics from "Charlie No. 1" and "Laugh in Their Faces" are scattered throughout the story. Damn it if they aren't addictive...

Note: This story contains a reference to Rossi's "Frank's Heater".

Disclaimer: See end of story.

Rating: PG for a swear word or two.

*text* represents italics.

Dedicated to:
- Farli, who nagged me about this until I finally broke down and got on with it. ;)
- SLWatson, who graciously lent me one oof the characters here.

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Dawn was breaking over Subreality's horizon, robes of gold and crimson trailing elegantly across the sky. Well, *one* of its horizons anyway, because Subreality has more time zones than the South Pole has penguins. It has to be said, though, that penguins don't appear or disappear without warning, unless a group of bored explorers and a game of peek-a-boo are involved.

But that's not the point. What's really important is that dawn is a time of transition, when the line between reality and unreality blurs even more than usual. And when the line happens to be Subreality, well... you'd better hope that living is a habit you
can't break.

Joel Robinson was blissfully unaware of this fact as he stepped out of the Subreality Corner Store, clutching a pack of ramen noodles under his arm. He didn't know what the heck Tom and Crow wanted them for, but the very least he *could* do was to make sure they won't blow up the TTPCTS Club. Or melt it into brick porridge.

He walked down the street, vaguely aware that he'd just entered another time zone. Pretty sunrise. The shadows lengthened around him, the soft sunlight glinting off the odd object -- a trashcan, the display in the window of a shop, teeth...

His mind frantically threw up a red flag.

"*Crap*." Joel took one look at the glistening creature, and ran. Painfully aware that he was in no shape to take on Lovecraftian monsters-of-the-week, he prayed that he would survive to reach another time zone. Preferably someplace at high noon.

Run it is, then. At least he was good at that.

"Where's... the SPD... when... you want... them?" he panted, skidding around a corner. The thing was following close behind, loping easily on a pair of muscular legs.

Without warning, something gleamed brightly in the morning light. Joel automatically squinted, catching only a glimpse of flowing black cloth before something caught his shirt from behind.

He yelled incoherently, flailing until -- with a loud tearing sound -- he was finally free. An arm caught him easily, helping him to stand.

"Now then," said a dulcet voice not far from his ear, addressing the stalker, "is that any way to express your opinion on his fashion sense? An Armani catalogue would be so much more appreciated."

The voice dropped, whispering to him, "Get behind me."

Joel's legs moved to obey long before his mind even
registered the command, self-preservation instincts taking over where the rational mind was frightened into a gibbering heap. Aware that he was still miraculously alive, he risked a peek.

A tall man stood with his back to Joel, facing down the monster. He gripped a broadsword in both hands, jauntily twirling it now and then.

"Can we talk about this over coffee and croissants?"

"GRRRWOAAAAARRRRR!"

"Sheesh, have it your way. Has anyone ever mentioned that you look like a Frankenstein's monster who's been poured over with tar?"

Teeth glistening, the creature leaped forward, crouched low. Like Joel, it was expecting the would-be saviour to take a swing at it with the blade.

Too bad the man merely kicked it in the knee, then brought the flat of the sword on the creature's head. Very hard.

It folded with a whimper.

"Are you okay?" Merry golden eyes regarded Joel thoughtfully, crinkling slightly with his smile. "I'd do the fancy steps demanded by dramatic narrative, but I'm out of practice. My apologies."

"Believe me, I'm not complaining," said Joel shakily, keeping a wary eye on the unconscious monster. "Thanks, buddy. If you could just point me to the TTPCTS Club..."

"I can do better than that," offered his saviour gallantly. A black horse cantered up to the two men, harrumphing softly as he patted its nose. "I'll give you a ride."

"Uh..."

"I'm Kelvren, by the way. Call me Kel." The black-clad stranger flashed a grin at the somewhat bewildered Joel.

Now that his heartbeat was slowing down to almost normal, Joel's mind finally took note of the other man's appearance. The most noticeable thing about him was his attractiveness -- he had what Joel's mother would call "bedroom eyes", though his smile hinted at something more along the lines of a boudoir. Joel's own hair was brown, but Kelvren's was brown on a holiday: black, gold and umber running through tawny brown. Put those characteristics together, and you have a man fit to be the male lead of certain fantasy novels.

He didn't look dangerous, though, despite the sword and his muscular form. Joel eyed the chosen mode of transportation again.

"Is that..."

Kel smacked his forehead. "What was I thinking?" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. The horse, in a burst of light and a surprised neigh, turned into a black two-seater Porsche. "Is this better?"

"Um..."

"Of course, you *could* stay here and wait for Mr. Happy to wake up."

"Can we drive with the top down?"

***********************

Kelvren drove at exactly one speed: fast.

"You're new here, aren't you?" he called out to Joel over the rush of wind. "I don't remember seeing you before."

Joel's knuckles whitened, gripping his seat as Kel negotiated a bend with the panache of a dancer and the speed of a cheetah on steroids. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find out that the golden-eyed man was a Muse.

"Nah, not that new," Joel replied, raising his voice. "I just haven't been around Subreality much." He winced at his memories of the places he *had* been to. "The good parts, anyway."

"Mind if I take the scenic route? Pity to waste a nice day." Kel waved off the other man's protest, glancing at the package in Joel's arms. "A man who goes out to buy ramen noodles at this hour can't have *that* busy a schedule."

"So what're you doing up?" Joel shot back.

To his surprise, Kel merely stared ahead at the road and smiled wistfully. "There's a problem," the Muse sang softly under his breath, narrowly missing a drunken Wolverine. "There's no sleepy girl to wrap you in her loving arms..."

Joel glanced at him, blue eyes curious. The moment was soon lost, however, as Kel began to point out Subreality's ever-mutating landmarks.

"... and that's the House of Unfinished Ideas, not to be mistaken with the House of Strange Dimensions. You're much less likely to become the prey of giant spiders, for one thing..."

***********************

//We fall into old habits
And talk about giving it up after getting right on//

Dawn gently turned into morning, exchanging rich robes for a more prosaic dress. Kelvren grinned at his new friend, who looked as if he was on the verge of information overload.

"So the Collegium's new, but at the same time it's been around for hundreds of years?" Joel's voice was similar to that of Dana Scully turning over Mulder's theories. "Okay."

"If you ever run into a Writer named Rossi, ask her to explain it to you," Kel explained cheerfully. His eyes darkened slightly, gold shadowing into dark amber. "I wonder what's happening to Frank..."

"Frank?"

"My cousin. He's Rossi's Muse." Kel forcefully shook off his worries, banishing them into a corner of his mind. Frank was all right. He *had* to be. Trying to mask his anxiety, the Muse reached over and turned up the volume of the stereo.

//Letter to your mother says you're doing everything you can//

"Temporal anomalies are a dime a dozen in Subreality. Everything here changes." Kel smiled charmingly at a passing Ororo, earning an amused -- if pleased -- look.

Joel rolled his eyes. "But I guess some things stay the same."

"No. Everything changes. We like to think some things are excluded, because we want them to stay the same."

//And I'm glad she won't get the joke//

The blue-eyed man considered this. "Maybe," he conceded. "Life hasn't been the same since I came to Subreality." He thought of Mike and Kitty. "For me, and everyone. A few years ago I was watching bad movies in a satellite with three 'bots as company. Now I'm hanging around in a place where I'm likely to meet a doppelganger. Several of them."

Kel chuckled. "It's just not Subreality if you can't sing chorus with yourself."

//You're as free as a ten year old
With a room of your very own//

"Do you have a significant other, Joel?"

"Well, the joke is that Kitty and Mike and I make a love triangle, but no." Joel turned to look at the driver. "You?"

Kel grinned lasciviously. "Several someones, actually."

"Forget I said anything." Joel's curiousity gave a faint "ping". What was Kel singing earlier? Something about not having a girl to wrap her arms around him... "You don't have someone special either, huh?"

A momentary hush settled over the two men. "Depends on what you mean by someone special," Kel said quietly. In a voice so low Joel thought he was imagining it, the Muse continued, "And "had" might be more appropriate..."

Joel opened his mouth--

"*But* I was Calliope's ambassador to Egypt for centuries. I'm barely grazing the female population of Subreality!"

--and closed it again. He resisted the ttemptation to roll his eyes again. Now this was more like the Kelvren he was starting to know.

//Doesn't matter at all what all those people say at home//

"Thanks for the ride, Kelvren," Joel said, opening the car door. The TTPCTS Club was still standing, he noted with relief. "See ya around -- I'd better get the noodles to Crow and Tom."

The Muse grinned. "You're welcome. Do present my compliments to your Writers. I look forward to meeting them."

"Right." Joel smiled. *That* was something he'd buy tickets to watch. "Bye!" he called out, and added under his breath, "Good luck."

Kel gave a jaunty wave, driving away in a cloud of dust.

***********************

//With your good humour you're a hero//

Something feathery and heavy settled on his left shoulder. Kelvren glanced up and chuckled. "Come to drag me home, Zephyr?"

The golden eagle gave him a look of infinite scorn, ruffling his feathers. He snapped irritably at Kel's hair, achieving with a sharp beak the bird equivalent of "stop playing silly buggers, foolish Muse."

"I know, I know. You remember, too." Kel raised his eyebrows. "Where's Dusk?"

As if in answer, the barn owl flew down to settle on the Porsche's steering wheel. She hooted thoughtfully as she looked around, approving of Kel's choice in locale.

"You're welcome, Dusk." Kel's car was parked on a hill overlooking Subreality City, parts of which slept while others bustled with energy. The hill itself was in a zone where the sun was low and golden, heralding the beginning of the end of another day.

Zephyr dug a talon into Kel's shirt.

"No. *No* hunting."

He could've sworn the eagle threw him a raspberry.

//And you can stop them from dragging you down//

Kelvren took another sip of fine wine, lounging back in the Porsche's seat. He hated getting drunk without company, but this was a time when a man needs to have his brain cells dissolve alone.

At least, *he* did.

He closed his eyes, feeling soft feathers tickling his face as Dusk perched next to his cheek. The owl was by far the most affectionate of his late wife's birds-of-prey, and seemed to almost have a capricious liking for him.

//They've got nothing better to do//

The darkness behind his eyelids swirled into images of dark hair and laughing green eyes, and delicate features alight with love. Slowly, like a crackly silent movie, the roses in her cheeks faded into pale ashes.

Kel threw his head back, gulping down the wine.

Davina. Davina the beloved one. Not beloved enough for the gods to let her live when she took the poison meant for his dear aunt, Calliope.

"Happy anniversary, my wife," he said, toasting an invisible presence. "May you find happiness in another life."

Everything changes, but memories told him just how much: not enough. Not nearly enough.

//Sometimes you've got to laugh in their faces//

And Kelvren laughed.


END

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Disclaimer: Subreality was created by Kielle, as was The House of Strange Dimensions. The House of Unfinished Ideas was created by Skyrocket. Joel Robinson, Mike and the 'bots belong to BBI, but these versions were written by SLWatson (thanks for letting me play with Joel!) and KRWalker. The Take Plot Concept Too Seriously Club was created by Bodger. Kitty, Wolverine and Ororo are Marvel's, though this version of Kitty belongs to SLWatson. "Charlie No. 1" and "Laugh in Their Faces" are copyrighted to The Whitlams. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder belong to Chris Carter/Fox.

Kelvren, his late wife, Zephyr and Dusk (used with permission) were introduced by Farli, who also has ownership claims on Flame. Or the other way around, as it may be. ;) She also created the Imagination Collegium, though I introduced the demigoddess who heads it. *grins* Frank belongs to Rossi, used without permission. Don't kill me, please?

One last note of thanks: To Farli and SLWatson, for taking the time to go through the story. And to Rossi, for the CD. ;)