Nathan, his last night in San Francisco

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Nathan dreams, or Sees. There are too many keys and a scarcity of locks. What does that say about cause and effect?


It was a dream. Or a vision. Nathan wasn't sure which. He didn't think he was entirely asleep, because part of him was aware that he was tossing and turning, tangled in the sheets as he tried to reach the edge of the bed. But it was his younger self that wanted so badly to find a corner and hide, or was it? Saul was there, the father from his memories, but the look on his face was thoughtful, not threatening, as he strode over to the rough-hewn dresser and yanked open a drawer, reaching in to remove...

... a box? A black box, like a jewelry box almost, and as he tossed it to Nathan, it changed in mid-air, turned into something gold and glimmering.

A key.

Nathan reached out to catch it, and it was his hands as they were now that reached out, large and callused and scarred. The metal of the key was cold, bitterly cold. It stuck to the skin of his hands, it was so cold, and as Nathan tried to let go of it, it tore the skin away, peeling it back.

Black blood. Frozen blood, all over his hands.

The key hit the ground and shattered.

Nathan took a shaky breath, realizing he was standing in the office he'd seen in the vision. The same long glass desk and black leather chair. Someone was in it, just like in the vision. Someone important.

"Who? Saul?"

"No."

He stepped forward, intending to walk around the desk and see who was staring out at the city - what city? It was familiar, he knew it...

... but then he was small and so cold, and Mother was reaching out her arms to pick him up out of the snowbank, tears freezing on her face. "You went too far," she said in a choked voice. "Nathan, you can't do that."

"Sorry," his own childish voice said weakly.

"Don't be sorry. Just don't do it again. You frightened me." Her arms tightened around him and she was carrying him somewhere, back to the cabin maybe. Nathan laid his head against her shoulder.

And saw the glimmer of gold at the open neck of her coat. A tiny golden key, on a chain.

He reached out for it, and she shook her head at him. "Not yet."

"But..."

"You know better."

Fire, blazing all around, and he was thrown back into a wall. Under attack. He struggled back to his feet, the psimitar in his hands, and faced Askani, the firebird ablaze in the air around her.

"Stop it," he growled. "Stop it or you go, I swear you do--"

"You know better!" she hissed at him, fiery claws reaching out to close around him. "You know better!"

Instead of merely catching him, the claws bit deep into his body, and suddenly there was fire raging in his veins, not just ice.

Fire and ice.

Snow in the desert.

Keys, a mountain of keys, or were they knives, and he saw his own hand holding one of them, slashing at the Mistra tattoo until the alpha and omega was gone and there was nothing left but the blood...

And Nathan sat bolt upright in bed, gasping. The furniture, the whole room was shuddering around him, and he clamped down desperately on his TK. No blowing out windows... The room seemed to shimmer for a moment, a flickering image of snow falling in the desert there all around him in one moment and then gone the next.

Askani stirred sleepily in the back of his mind, her thoughts drowsy enough to tell him immediately that it hadn't been her in the dream. At least not consciously. Nathan rubbed his shaking hands over his face and untangled himself from the sheets, sliding out of bed. He went into the ensuite bathroom and splashed some water on his face. It didn't help.

As he was coming back out, there was a knock on the door. "Nathan?" Saul asked, sounding mildly alarmed. "I'd have written that off as a mild earthquake if Gwen hadn't told me that she didn't feel it downstairs."

"I'm... I'm fine," Nathan answered, his voice rough, but then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, switching on a light to look for damage. "Come in." Looked like a few knicknacks had been overturned, but nothing broken...

The door opened and Saul, still fully dressed - Nathan was beginning to think that his father actually slept less than he did, which was saying something - stepped in, looking around. "What happened?" he asked, focusing on Nathan, his expression tightening with concern.

"Nightmare," Nathan said hoarsely, righting a vase of dried flowers on one of the shelves. "At least I didn't break anything. Sometimes furniture goes flying."

"Hmm," Saul said, his eyes still troubled as he watched Nathan move around the room, rearranging what the TK-shiver had knocked askew. "It must have been some dream. You're still shaking."

"I'm fine. Really. I didn't mean to disturb you..." Nathan stopped, staring down at the floor beside the nighttable. At the golden key lying there on the carpet. "Where did this come from?" he asked unsteadily, crouching to pick it up.

But his fingers closed on nothing.

It wasn't there.

"What is it?" Saul asked, coming around the bed.

"It's... I thought there was..." Saul's eyes flickered from the carpet back to his face, and the worried look on his face made Nathan flinch as he got back to his feet. "I'm fine. Really. Just..."

"What did you think you saw?" Saul asked slowly.

"A key. Or a knife. I'm not sure," Nathan said, the answer slipping out before he could stop himself. He swallowed as Saul's eyes widened slightly. "My eyes. Playing tricks on me," he said half-defensively.

Saul closed his eyes for a moment, a sigh slipping out. "You're not quite awake, I don't think," he said gently, opening his eyes and focusing on Nathan. "Why don't we go downstairs?" He gestured towards the open door.

An open door. No key needed for that. "Okay," Nathan said, a bit hesitantly. The door closed behind them as they left the room, a tiny golden keyhole glinting in the light of the empty room.