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December 28th 2004 -- backtracking : "Death of the Lost"

It's a particularly sunny mid-morning when Dare awakens. No one gives him a wake up call, mainly for the reason that the children of the household receive their schooling for the week every Sunday and are assumed to engage in independant study in their free time throughout the weekdays. However, being so close to the holidays as it is, everyone is off the hook for any type of work.

Thus, the Legend has allowed himself to sleep in.

No matter how much sleep he manages to get, nothing can knock away this certain weariness that has affected him since he returned to the regular Gaian world. Silently, thoughts arise in his head on whether April silently suffers as well. Guilt always takes a blow after such thoughtful reminders of what happened long ago.

Dare's bedroom is sectioned off in a level slightly resembling a separate tower. In fact, it was built with the purpose that it could be rented out as an apartment, having the outlets for large appliances as well as its own bathroom.

With a twist of the faucet, Dare cups his hands in the sink and proceeds to splash his face with the frigid water, effectively awakening in full. He dries his face then hands on his black towel, walking slowly in a return to the main bedroom. He stops, however, as ideas circulate themselves in his busy head.

With no more thought or hesitation on the matter, Dare swings closed his two windows. He locks his bedroom door, climbing back up the short private staircase to the middle of the room. His hand fumbles for the light panel, making sure all of them are off. Kicking back items from the floor, he shoves aside everything until he succeeds in clearing space he assumes to be enough for this.. duty.

Planting his feet forward toward the windows, he tries to ignore the fact that tiny streams of light peek out from under them. Dare, with an utmost seriousness accompanying his spontaneous actions, raises his hands to his wrinked shirt and begins to close his eyes.

Concentration, he says in his head, trying to clear absolutely everything out. She told me I wasn't concentrating properly. Maybe it's easier when I know it's not a dream..

Opening his right eye, the teen Legend leans over and unwinds his pendant from its place on his guitar. He twirls it in and out between his fingers, pressing the tiny hourglass between his palms and returning his folded hands to his middle.

There's no tellin' what'll happen. All I gotta say is, there'd better not be any damage I'll have to explain about later..

Nothing could prepare the nervous Time Ranger for what comes next in the File Opening process. Truth told him all she knows, but as with everything there is nothing like the true experience. So when all light immediately shuts off for no explicable reason, even Dare can tell through his closed eyes. It takes everything in him from opening up his eyes and disrupting the process; he doesn't allow for anything more than the uncontrollable nervous teeth chatter.

There is a slight change in the air circulation of the room. It seems that all previous ventilation systems abruptly stop, allowing for some sort of wind to rise without a viewable source. Dare's hair begins to ruffle from the beneath, and a few scattered sheets of paper flutter noiselessly.

Finally, when all grows perfectly still and silent, the four walls of the enclosed room turn perfectly black. It doesn't seem to matter that the room is already as dark as a movie theatre before all has begun; somehow in this inky black there is something even more purely dark in shade to replace it.

Dare opens both of his eyes now. He hadn't been able to watch as these changes unfolded, rather relying on his ears to timidly signal him as to whether he's on the right track. Now, the immensity of what he is capable of doing without lifting a finger strikes a blow over the trembling teenager. Nothing that previously inhabited his bedroom - his bed, dresser, chair, desk - was there anymore. Instead, like a hollow shell, the room has transformed into a live theatre currently missing the life.

What did she say next? Dare thinks quickly and forcefully, swallowing at the lump at his throat. A name? I've gotta say the name, and try and find the right file..

It takes a few moments before he can really find his voice. Eyes fixated on an unmarked, anonymous space on the wall, he forces out the words.

"File for -"

Who?

What seems like so long ago, Dare read the name belonging to his brother on a piece of parchment Truth has dangerously sent to him in real times. Now, only this name seems to surface in his mind anymore; Chandra's completely slips into the momentarily forgotten.

"Kevin Aspere."

Something knocks the wind out of Dare, hitting him straight in the gut. His eyes fall closed as an immediate reaction, and though there really is no telling and no difference between the darkness of the closed eyelid and that displayed currently by the room. But when his eyes fall closed, the brightly lit files spring to life in the darkness.

Not able to distinguish the difference between this imagination and that reality, Dare stumbles forward. The files usually whiz right by him and into the massive hourglass. Here, they stop and form a line as if jittery kindergarteners ready to spring off in another direction once given the okay. They rest within reach, and the Legend takes a dumbfounded moment before picking one up.

This file is a dark green, brighter near the middle. It falls limp when grabbed, and the lock bursts into crystals of light. Dare cautiously pulls on the name tag, containing the basic information before the actual file is released.

"How do I know which one's the right one?" Dare asks himself. It is now that he realizes he is truly alive in his head, for the words he thinks rumble aloud. He falls silent, the twenty-some odd files continuing to jitter. He'd never thought of how many people must have the same name..

His eyes scan the green file, whose light fluctuates more rapidly as well as the temperature of the foreign material it is constructed of. 56 years old, lives in New Zealand.. Can't be. He brushes his hand over the place where a lock once was, surprised to find that one reappears in its place. The file's temperature bursts into a sudden heat, forcing Dare to release it from his grasp. It flies at an impossible speed away into the darkness.

Dare's search continues, grazing through the line so that he doesn't needlessly break any seals. Pink, blue, aqua.. none of which seem to be the one he is looking for. But, really, what is he looking for? Will there be a lightbulb switching on in his erased memory, signalling that he has the right person..?

No. There it is.

The file emits a low silver light. Its material is more rough; it appears grainy and torn in places. As all of the other files disappear their separate ways, Dare holds this one with both hands. Unlike the other file he'd actually held in his hands, this one struggles needlessly. Ignoring this and not letting it discourage him, he holds it above his head, quite unsure of what to do next. This certainly wasn't taught to him.

"Kevin Aspere," he shouts, restating the name.

His eyes burst open, irritated by the jolt of light that annoyingly engulfs the walls. White light it is, but for eyes adjusting to the darkness it forces Dare to rub his palms into them for a few seconds.

The walls alight all around him with fully vivid picture. It might as well be true that Dare is brought into the action, as the picture is 360 degrees around the teenager. His breath is stolen from him, and he steps backwards in surprise from the wall in front of him; again, forward his stumbles as he is alarmed from the behind as well as the sides.

Life bustles all around him as people go on their way. One target in particular, a fairly tall young man with brightly silver hair leans on a wooden cart, tossing an apple up into the air. Dare, kneeling on the black floor now, finds himself gaping at the similarities between his looks and that of his.. brother?

It is clearly not the same time era as that of the current. The man - his brother - is dressed in very rough clothing, possibly that of a traveller or street person. He grins as the seller turns his back, walking casually away with stolen merchandise in hand and apple in mouth. He begins to walk towards the harbour; Dare hesitates to follow, but quickly discovers that there is no need. This window of vision into the past follows the unknowing subject automatically.

The next is nothing anyone would want to see their family, having met them or not, go through.

Dare watches his brother walk more rapidly, closing in on the harbour. A merchant ship, or one resembling one, is boarding. He slips aboard behind a few sailors carrying heavy boxes, but it seems he does indeed know the guard as he tips his invisible cap in his direction. The ship sets sail, and time moves more quickly out here. Dare watches with utmost facination as the movie of one of his brother's past lives unfolds.

Unfortunately, it is not a pretty sight.

Another ship is in the distance. His brother, chatty with a few sailors as they neclect their business on deck, leans against one of the sails' posts. From how far the view is, Dare can't listen to what is being said. Instead, his eyes are drawn to the changing flag owned by the ship closing in from the distance. The flag that raises is muddy, almost black, bearing a skull and crossbones.

There are a few shouts, but the rest becomes a blur to even a bystander such as Dare. His brother raises up, alert as anything and slides a dagger out from his boot. All too late to move away, the ship braces for the enemy pirates arrival on board. Ropes, even a ladder and a board, are used to carry these savages across to the merchant ship. As expected, the sailors put up their best fight.

The brother bustles into action, swinging accurate punches at a few pirates within reach. It is all too obvious, though, that their numbers are much fewer than those of the pirates.

Refusing to give up, he swings his dagger at a more stout pirate. He has this one caught up in against the rail of the ship and within an arms length of swiping him defenseless. However, through the shouts and anguished dying cries of his fellow sailors, Dare's brother doesn't hear the clanking of the heavy boot of the pirate captain's targetted path to his exposed back.

With a sharp kick to the back of his legs, the captain quickly grabs his jacket and roughly tugs him in. The view, Dare's view, has become a lot more accurate and much closer, to his horror. It was a story gone wrong.. completely wrong..

"Such a pitiful defence, matching yer oblivious crew," the pirate captain sneers, rotting teeth close to the brother's face. He scrunches up his own face, spitting at the dirty, vile one close to his. The captain just laughs with his rough voice, raising a dagger underneath his target's chin. "I would'r liked a challenge, but spilling blood from a worthless pig's throat is just as much fun."

Behind the captain, the pirate crew had cleared the ship of all of the resistance. The bodies remained in their place, blood spilling and staining the floor, soon to be tossed overboard as most of the occupied pirates were doing. They erupted into a laugh on their captain's crew.

With a disgrusting grin over his shoulder at the obediance, he turns back to the last remaining sailor, Dare's brother, tight in his clutches.

On his spot on the floor, Dare grips the ruffles of his pant legs, his knuckles turning white from the surpressed anger and horror. "No. No, no, nonono.."

He finds himself useless, powerless to look away from the decided scene. The captain rips his brother's own dagger from his hand, sliding is own back into its place.

"How would you like fer a lick of yer own blade?" he chuckles cruelly, raising the new dagger up threateningly.

Dare's brother speaks his last words, his face hard as stone and fairly grave. "I am ready," he says strangely, turning Dare's stomach with the simplicity. The blade is brought across his throat, and his brother's broken body collapses to the wood of the boat.

Like the end of a reel of film, the picture fades to black. Everything returns to how it was originally.

And yet Dare remains, frozen on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. Light has returned, but he feels no light. Not anymore. The brief vision into the past is over, and it has drained him in many more ways than he could ever be prepared for.

He can't even find the tears to cry for the horrid loss of this brother he never really knew.

December 31st 2004 -- backtracking : "Ringing in a new year"

In the vast yard behind the Taciturn Lime household, many rather unique types of trees make their rest. Dare, having been commanded to leave his room and get some fresh air, rests in the massive branches of one of these trees in particular, a gnarled beast of a tree that stretches over a river. Seeing how it's the dead of winter, the river has mostly frozen over with a thick sheet of ice.

Arms crossed behind his head, Dare slowly moves his legs; they'd fallen asleep, because the teen had already been sitting out here for hours. The sun had long ago set, and he'd watched it stretch down beyond the horizon, dragging a bloody smear across the sky.

Although he'd been forced to make the trip outside into the frigid environment, the hype back at home was unbearable. Various plans for New Years events had cycled the house, falling upon deaf ears once they were brought to Dare's attention. It was more of a relief to escape from that with nothing but a candle, a few matches, and a nutrient bar. All three items had been left untouched within the last warmth of Dare's jacket.

Time is meaningless, he grudgingly states to the emptiness of his head. Who cares of people think it's the start of a new year? What are years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds?! For a moment, he wishes he was on the ground instead of so high up. It'd be fun to chuck a nice big rock at something right now.

Apparently, the dark, sickening effects of opening up his first intended File strike the Legend with much more than he'd bargained for. Furrowing his eyebrows, he takes a good look across the clearing, having a good direct view of the house from here. The massive building, three stories and two towers strong, seems to bubble with life. Growling under his breath, Dare grabs a strong, angry hold on the nearest branch to pull himself into a position where his back is against the festivities.

Another damn year, and what's been done? We're all just spiraling in an endless cycle of living and death. And people are so arrogant.. they don't even know.. they don't know what I know..

The scene is much darker when he sits this way. His slitted eyes burn as he feels himself on the verge of tears; panic controls him at this point, steering him away from any sort of emotion. The last time he did that.. he'd almost..

Guys don't cry, is his stern cover-up. He wouldn't let himself relive any moment of that, nor repeat anything that happened, even if it was only to himself. He rests his head back against the ice drenched branch, closing his eyes wearily. Ever since he could remember, he's had a startlingly accurate mental clock in his head, ticking down by the seconds as often clocks do. Now, with darkness against darkness, there isn't anything to prevent his curiosity of checking what time it is..

11:59 pm. Well isn't that just great timing.

Sighing, he accepts this as a twisted kick from fate. Although the real concept of time is skewed and shredded in his mind now, Dare rummages within his worn jacket for the materials he'd absentmindedly brought with him. Positioning the candle between his knees to keep it steady as he lights it, he finds that it burns quite easily and doesn't require the flaming match for more than a few seconds. Shaking it out, he grasps the candle between the fingers of his right hand.

The light is very shallow and doesn't cast farther than a few inches, enough to brighten up Dare's face had anyone been present to see it. The nutrient bar - one of his least favourite snacks in the house - slips out of its pocket space into Dare's free hand. Tearing it open, he slips out the hard narrow bar and holds both items up into the pitch black atmosphere above his head.

"Here's to the new year," he toasts, his tone surprisingly only fairly angry now.

January 29th 2005 -- backtracking : " "No file is lost." "

"Nice to see you again, Dare. Where've you been, kid?"

Dare lifts his chin up, confused for the moment at where the voice had come from. Just seconds ago, he had been playing up on stage at a huge concert with a full rock band, completely engulfed in the song he'd been playing.

Dreaming, he concludes, with a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd assumed that, by some stroke of luck, he had been dismissed from his duties with the Files, but the familiar scene of the large hourglass and darkened backdrop is now sickeningly the dream interruption.

Turning on the heel of his thick boots, his mouth is drawn in a straight line. Truth - of course, who else? - stands with a smug grin beside him atop the massive hourglass, holding open the door for files to enter.

"Well? Y'haven't gone deaf or mute since you left me to do all the work, so talk already!" She laughs heatedly, leaning down on her forearms across the heavy door. The Files, forgotten for the moment, whiz down and disappear into grains of sand below their feet. Her eyes are fixated up at her partner's, but Dare just returns her playful comments with an expressionless stare.

Standing up straight again, she grips the door with both hands, giving him a confused and slightly dishearted sideglance. "Alright, ignore me if you'd like."

Oh, you don't know how much I'd like to do that, Dare sighs within the secrets of his head, shaking his head accidentally.

Truth pretends not to notice. Instead, she watches as the files come in by a thicker quantity, patiently keeping the door open. Her eyes, almost black in colour, sparkle at the variety of colours the Files are drenched in. She doesn't seem to want to leave him alone on the topic, pressing forward with crytic messages to her old partner. Anything plainly obvious would more than likely be caught by some sort of authority, as they are at the moment on their soil.

"You won't get out of this easy, Dareboy. In fact, it's nothing you can get out of. You're stuck for life, and that's all that's to it. The sooner you accept this, the easier it'll be on you to come to terms with your responsibilities. I certainly don't like sharing all your duties, but ever since you.. you-"

She stops speaking, giving Dare her full attention for a pause, wondering if he's figured it out yet. To stay on the safe side, she changes her mind about using certain terminology.

"- died, I've had to cover your a** anyway. Sure, you weren't the least bit more productive, but at least you were a little more helpful back then.."

A haze covers her expression, and Truth forces herself to turn away. She couldn't let herself slip up now, not after all the trouble she's gone through to mask everything. No, it must stay the same - even worse, since he doesn't even remember back then..

She turns back to him, half believing that he wouldn't be there anymore. It was like that, that one day. Gone, just gone. Even when they weren't together, they were in the least bit together, but that day he'd left her terribly alone..

"You haven't looked into your own past, have you?" she asks, seeming to change the subject rather abruptly. It did have a connection to what she was thinking, but how could he know that anymore..?

His face twists into a confused look. "No," he replies shortly, with a choppiness to his voice.

She smiles faintly and briefly, looking down to her small hands as she adjusts her grip. "I didn't think so. You do have a file, though, just like everyone else," she explains softly, watching as a few Files of the same colour stream past her feet. "Well, not everyone. I don't have one, and neither do any of the other Rangers. We remember everything, so there's no need."

Truth doesn't raise her eyes again, making a point not to. "The day you die, your file is sealed. That's what these people are - yes, they're still people, Dare - they're dead now. We collect their Files and store them away for future use. No File is lost," she explains rather deeply, sliding her left hand across the gold of its side of the door before she continues. "And one of those down there is yours."

She glances up, directly into Dare's eyes now. "You do want to know what happened, don't you?"

January 29th 2005 -- backtracking : "His solution"

Morning had come and gone. The dream, weightless and dull as it was with him knowing that it is only a dream, drags on through most of the morning's hours. When his eyes finally do embrace the natural light of life, he quickly shuts them.

A feeling takes control of his stomach, sending him a sensation of burning sickness. He doesn't ever want to wake up from that one dream, not ever. For, if he remained in the dream already interrupted, he would never have to sleep again, and never have his dream interrupted.

But he knew the truth of the matter. He would sleep again, and she would come again. It is inevitable. There is no preventing it..

Unless.

Unless there is a way of doing such a thing. And Dare can only think of one single thing that has, in the past, been the menace to bring him and Truth together.

Dare slides groggily out from his sheets, ignoring the cold floor as he stumbles down his private staircase and out into the hallway. Maybe he would grab something to eat while he makes the effort to go downstairs - recently, with him cooping himself up voluntarily, he hasn't had much more to eat than secret stashes of goodies, and even those were dwindling.

Passing various doors, some open and others shut and possibly locked, Dare keeps his eyes to the floor immediately in front of him. He walks at a quickened pace to minimize the dreaded time between his suffering and his success. His hand grips the next banister, taking the staircase two stairs at a time.

He knows exactly where his mum keeps it. It's probably not locked up right now, she doesn't go that far as to lock it up, now that he's older. She hadn't even figured out about its role in the disappearance of two of the family members for weeks on end.

And there it stands, enclosed and sitting prominently on its shelf. Dare opens the cupboard door, running his free hand against the gold of the hourglass.

His hourglass.

Looking around, he takes no chances in awakening it. Wrapping it in a kitchen towel - he took a moment to steal quite a few food items, as well - he makes his way back to his bedroom and to his solitude.

Madeline had heard someone jump the last step, and was more than eager to share some of her newly baked goodies with whomever it was. However, she'd gone the other way around towards the stairs, completely missing Dare's path. She was returning to her kitchen when she caught the last glimpse of Dare, and the china cupboard left open.

Odd, hadn't something filled that place? But Madeline takes after her mother, having a week memory for these certain things. She closes it, thinking no more about it. Dare has his reasons and his secrets, and she doesn't want to intrude.

It is a faster journey to return, now that the hourglass is in his grasp. Dare pushes his door open with his foot, having left it ajar originally. He shuts it in the same manner, and quickly rushes up the steps. The less time spent delaying, the better.

Dare doesn't stop until he reaches the slight platform near the rear of his bedroom. Sun pours onto this spot in the early morning, but by this hour it has passed on its course. He pushes aside some newspaper articles until he finds the edge - the slightly dulled edge of the platform being raised, but just as effective.

He raises his hands above his head, the hourglass still held between the cloth. Without hesitation, he slips it out from between his cloth-covered fingers and watches as it comes crashing down.

The hourglass smashes open, its contents spilling across the floor. The glass shells are crushed under the weight of the gold, but do not shatter farther than the rim of golden sand. It is a beautifully heart-wrenching sight, and Dare is more than pleased to see it.

February 12th 2005 -- "Making His Escape Happen"

Dare double checks the items spread across his bed, a lightweight backpack clutched in his right hand. Without more hesitation, he selects the most important things first - clothing, notebook, photographs - and fills the bag with less significant trinkets. Even after packing what seemed to him to be a lifetime of memories, the bag still hangs loosely with more room to spare.

No matter, there's no need to fill the whole thing. Less weight to carry, he thinks, shrugging it off. Tugging the zipper to close it and slinging the straps over his shoulders, Dare takes a few steps away from his bed to take a moment to scan the room.

He had inhabited this space since his earliest memories. The view out of his tower windows never ceased to amaze him. The secrecy he gained from this own staircase and separate level was almost an exotic circumstance at the Taciturn Lime.

And now, he is going to leave it all behind.

Of course, he had decided to leave in the late afternoon. The dead of night always carries its stragglers in the household and is quite stereotypical for this sort of adventure. The afternoon provides the chance to leave without being questioned, and plenty of time to flee a fair distance before anyone questions his motives.

His guitar case is already leaning up against the handrail of his stairs. As he trudges forward to pick it up on his exhilarating and nerve-wracking decided path, Dare can't help but feel as if something inside him is sending an increasing weight to his heart and feet to make him reconsider.

No, he isn't about to back out of this one.

There isn't anything left for him here.

Swallowing sharply, he lifts the guitar to his waist and forces his legs to work. The first few steps down his staircase are worst, long and drawn out in his mind. However, the closer to his exit, the easier it feels upon the teen Legend.

And nothing compares to the freedom, the escape, the sudden ability to truly breathe properly again when he finally breaks free from the house he'd been held back in for so long..

February 13th 2005 -- "Typewriter"

Dare gazes around the shabby apartment high above the busy streets, setting down his guitar case gently. Behind him, the landlord shuts the door after mumbling a short, "G'luck with it, kid," but the Legend doesn't pay much attention to what was said.

This place, in dire need for repairs, is no more than two rooms, the bathroom being the only one actually sectioned off with an appropriate door. The bedroom area, enclosed with a worn curtain around most of the left side of the apartment, doesn't even warrant the classification of being called a separate room. What's remaining, something between a kitchen-living room-den, is equipped with a couch, television, refridgerator, and sink, all of which are in terrible shape along with the apartment itself.

Fiddling with the key absentmindedly in his free hand, Dare gives what is now his home a second look over, which doesn't take him more than a few seconds, given the size.

With the money he'd managed to accumulate, and from scouring newspapers around the cafe down the street, he landed himself this quite.. pitiful apartment. Finding himself rather good at haggling, it left him with a great deal of leftover cash, possibly to be used on making his new home a half-decent place to inhabit. The man who had interrupted his playing on the street talked him into being a nightly act at the club with a rather adequate pay, so for the Legend it seems money troubles won't be a worry in the near future.

Dropping his key into his jacket pocket, he pushes the case along the floor with his foot, his other hand occupied by his meek set of luggage. It's a good thing he hadn't decided on bringing a lot with him - there really isn't anywhere he could possibly put it all. Even the things he did possess wouldn't have a place to veg until he gets around to purchasing some sort of storage.

Drawing back the bedroom curtain, the luggage is dropped on the bare mattress. It sinks considerably under the weight, giving a groan of disapproval. Dare raises an eyebrow - he could just image the complaints it'd give once he had to use it himself. Getting down on his knees, Dare attempts to sweep his hand under the bed, figuring out if there would be enough room to safely store his guitar case under there, having really no other choice for a decent hiding spot.

Instead, his hand meets the side of something rather hollow with a metallic ring. Drawing back instinctually, he leans his elbows on the musty floorboards to crane his neck for a better look under the wire bedframe.

A typewriter, faded black and quite ancient, rests with a few dust bunny friends, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Using both hands to tug the surprisingly heavy device out from the space, he gives a second eyebrow raise. Between the landlord's mumblings he'd caught something about a "lunatic writer" owning the space before him -- just how long ago would that have been, judging from the outdated piece of equipment?

None the less, Dare plugs a few of the keys, finding it to just barely function. A paper, blank other than a vaguely noticable date and a partial name - "Lir---" - still hangs from the typewriter limply as it might've been when someone filled it. Pushing it aside, he leaves all thoughts of it to the back of his head for now, figuring he'd better get one with unpacking before raising any questions.

The fridge, for one thing, needs filling. Dare hadn't had anything but food from his workplace so far, realizing how much he'd taken a full fridge for granted back home. All other thoughts of home, though, remain sullen shadows in his conscious, just as easily repressed as a mysterious typewriter found abandoned in his new home.

Dare raises to his feet again, and continues unpacking.