Hardin glanced back at the trembling form on the bed, stifling a sigh as he turned away and continued to jot things down in the small notebook he kept. Even now, he understood Sydney no better than he had weeks before - Sydney had been perfectly fine, even happy, yesterday. He'd seemed fine when they went to bed that night, and even when he'd awoken to find himself alone, and Sydney was standing alone by himself beneath the trees behind the house, nothing had seemed more wrong than usual...

Sydney stood out in the backyard, the wind whipping through his hair, eyes gazing off into the distance. It was sometime around 3 AM, the traditional hour he always seemed to get restless, and standing in the moonlight, he could just make out the changing leaves on the trees that little Joshua had played under just that afternoon. He smiled slightly, thinking of it, and then sighed as he heard movement behind him.

"Sydney?"

"I'm fine, John...go back to bed." Though his voice was soft and calm for once, he could not hide his anxiety from Hardin, and the other came out the back door to join him where he stood under the trees.

"What's wrong, Sydney? Why did you leave in the middle of the night...?"

"Nothing is wrong," he said softly, shaking his head so that his blond hair could be rustled further by the wind.

In the moonlight under the color of the trees, he looks more like an angel than usual... "If nothing was wrong, you would be asleep in bed, and not standing outside in the cold wind."

Sydney laughed softly. "The wind does not bother me...and you worry too much."

"Of course I worry...I care about you."

"I know..." He sighed softly, his shoulders sagging slightly and Hardin turned to give him a worried look.

"Please, talk to me..."

"There isn't anything to talk about. It will pass...it always does."

"What will pass?" Hardin pressed him, reaching out a hand to tilt his chin up and gaze into his eyes.

"Nothing, nothing," he murmured, turning away. "Nothing new, anyways...I've just been thinking. And it will pass."

"You know you can talk to me..."

"It wouldn't change anything."

Hardin sighed in exasperation, knowing he wouldn't be able to drag it out of him this night. "Fine, then, Sydney...be your cold and distant self if it pleases you. I will be, as always....waiting for you when you return." He started back towards the house, and just as he reached the door, looked back to find Sydney still motionless, gazing up at the moon. He sighed. I can't force you to talk to me...to depend on me...but underneath that expression, this distance....even if no one else can see....I know the truth. I know you. "I love you..." he whispered, shaking his head with a slow smile. He walked through the kitchen, smiling again at the traced leaves Joshua had hung on the refrigerator, and knew it would all be alright in the end.

But then, after a breakfast that Sydney had not joined him for, he'd returned to their room to find him like this. It wasn't something new, by any means - Sydney often was like this, and so Hardin knew it would be useless to ask what was the matter. In fact, it mildly irritated him that even after the admissions they had made so recently, Sydney still refused to open up at all, and in fact would not even ask for his help. His pride remained intact, apparently. Hardin had thought they were past this.

From where he lay on the bed, face half-buried in a pillow, Sydney heard all these thoughts easily, and they only deepened his misery. Part of him desperately wanted Hardin to do exactly what he knew Hardin wanted to do - come and lie down beside him, holding him tightly until he pulled himself together. The rest, however, had been shaken so severely by the dreams that the mere idea made his silent sobs grow deeper. This was precisely why he couldn't say it before, why he'd never allowed Hardin to say it, and now that he had, it haunted him more than ever before.

Finally Sydney heard the faint squeak of the chair as Hardin stood, and hesitant footsteps crossing the room to stand beside the bed. "Sydney... what is it that troubles you? ...Can I help somehow?"

Sydney shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut against the fabric of the pillowcase beneath him. "John..." he whispered. "Just... go. Run away, as far from me as you can possibly get. Please, John..."

"No!" Hardin exclaimed in soft disbelief, sitting down beside him on the bed. "No, no, never! Sydney..." The mage cringed at the feel of Hardin's hand upon his back. "Why would you ask such a thing of me? Especially now, when I've finally told you out loud, after all these years, how-"

Sydney shook his head again. "Please don't."

Hardin paused, then removed his hand with a sigh. "Back to this again, are we?"

"I suppose so." Sydney managed a shaky laugh. "But this time I offered the courtesy of a 'please'..."

Though his face was still buried in the pillowcase, Sydney knew Hardin's body so well that he could sense the nod, just from the slight movement of the mattress beneath him. After a moment, Hardin spoke up hesitantly again. "...Do you truly want me to leave?"

"You should." That was the honest truth.

Hardin, however, was not content with the answer. "I didn't ask if I should leave - I asked if you want me to."

The truthful answer to that question was much more difficult to speak, and Sydney held his breath, debating the merits of either answer he could offer - the truth or the lie. Or would it be a lie exactly, he wondered?

The bed creaked as Hardin shifted his weight, leaning down to take Sydney into his arms. Trying not to let himself be overwhelmed by the guilt, Sydney lay limp in Hardin's embrace until he could speak again. "What I want isn't important," he whispered.

"Why isn't it?" Hardin asked gently. "And... what about what I want?"

Carefully schooling his features into the cool mask he so often assumed, Sydney allowed himself to look up at his friend. "What do you want?"

"To be with you, always."

That was altogether too much for Sydney to bear, and he abruptly broke free of Hardin's arms to stand. "I give up, John - I give up..." Going to the window, he gazed outside wearily at the trees they'd spoken under. "I can't take this anymore..."

Hardin said nothing, simply waiting helplessly for him to continue, and finally Sydney did. "These dreams of mine... for so long now, I've seen things I do not want to see... some of which involve you."

Behind him, Hardin took a deep breath; he knew what kinds of dreams Sydney meant. "...I thought as much."

"I... I thought that perhaps I could change this vision," Sydney murmured bitterly. "I thought that after yesterday morning... perhaps things would be different, but no - I still see the same thing for you..."

"My death," Hardin stated, taking a cautious step towards him. "Sydney... we all die." He hesitated, realizing that there was one exception to that rule, and it stood before him. "...Even so," he began again. "Even so... I will die whether I am with you or not. I would prefer to be with you."

"I will not be there, John. I have seen you fallen, alone... and I am not there to hold you in my arms, to say goodbye. And I have no idea why."

Hardin visibly flinched, and Sydney could clearly hear the pained thoughts swimming in his head. ...Will I leave him, then? Will he leave me? Or will it simply be a matter of something catching me by surprise while he is somewhere else, unaware...?

There was more to it than that, and Sydney had kept it hidden away for years, since the first day they met. But even now that he'd begun to speak of the matter, he could not do so freely - many things he was shown in his dreams were not meant for the eyes or ears of anyone besides himself. All he could offer was a murmured "I couldn't say." Of course, he meant it in a different way than Hardin assumed.

Finally Hardin moved closer, sitting down upon the table by the window to look into Sydney's eyes. "Can you be sure that this vision is a prophecy, and not simply a dream?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Averting his eyes, Sydney sat down as well, turning a cold profile to Hardin. "And a certain prophecy at that. There are so many paths that destiny can take, and when we left Valendia, I believe ours was altered, for many of my dreams have not come again, but... this one dream continues to plague me. It may be inescapable..."

"Or it may be that you've been obsessing," Hardin told him. "It might be the result of your fears and your guilt, nothing more."

"I don't know, John... I don't know. What I do know is that I've done nothing but take from you these many years, and-"

"Wait, wait one minute," Hardin broke in. "You've taken from me? You gave me my life back, Sydney!"

"You said it yourself the other night," Sydney muttered. "How you've always been there for me, even when I pushed you away... how you've done everything for me, and I don't even acknowledge-"

"I was angry..." Hardin said softly. "Deep down, I've always known how you felt, even though you refused to say it. Your small kindnesses, the times you warned me away from your temper, though I often ignored the warnings - it was obvious you cared for me. But forgive me, I was already beginning to doubt, and when I found out about Sylvia... I thought that... oh, Sydney..."

His words had cut off as he saw the tears shining in Sydney's emotionless eyes. Knowing his weakness had been exposed, Sydney turned away, trying to compose himself again. "Forgive me," Hardin said quickly, placing a hand lightly upon Sydney's shoulder. "I didn't mean to remind you..."

"I hurt her as well," Sydney said, his voice flat and exhausted. "Gods, John... all I ever do is harm. All the power that has been given to me, and I try to use it for the greater good, but when it comes to more ordinary, personal matters... I do nothing but hurt people."

"Shhh, Sydney, shh," Hardin whispered, holding the mage tightly as he leaned back against him, almost as if he was a child. "That's not true. I recall back in Valendia, you allowed any hungry wanderer to share our dinner, whether he was a begger or a rogue, forgotten by the world or hunted by the knights. One such man would not be here with you now, had you not been so kind."

Still shaking just a little, Sydney closed his eyes and leaned his head upon Hardin's shoulder, letting his words and his kind voice soothe away the helplessness he felt. "True that you're often emotionally cold," Hardin admitted, "but even then, you have stood on the side of wisdom and reason. You have been a teacher, a spiritual leader, unafraid to stand up and speak out on behalf of those who have no protector... you've given aid to those who were unjustly left without home or resources to make a living on their own. And then there are the many times you've used your magic to heal the sick and wounded, or to ease people's burdens..." His voice trailed off thoughtfully. "In fact, if you feel you must prove yourself to be useful... I believe I know of someone who could use your expertise even now."

"Oh...?" The suggestion did not seem another burden to Sydney in his need; in fact it provided a distraction from his plight - something he might actually be able to accomplish, to make some small measure of amends for all his misdeeds. "What might this involve?"

"Flik came from the castle yesterday," Hardin began, visibly relieved that Sydney had relaxed somewhat. "I talked briefly with he and Viktor, and it seems that they're a bit dissatisfied..."

As Hardin explained their problem, Sydney's tension turned to distraction, and then thoughtfulness. "So... is this something you think you could assist with?" Hardin finished.

"Certainly," Sydney murmured, still thinking it over. "In fact, building upon your idea, I believe we could make this something that all of us could benefit from - not only those with magical aptitude. I'll have to take a look around both places..."

Hardin smiled slightly. Nothing ever seemed to drag Sydney out of his more depressed moments as easily as being given a project with which to occupy his mind, a problem to solve. "I thought you might be able to help. You are the expert on magic, after all."

Finally more or less at ease, Sydney leaned back against Hardin, tilting his head upwards to kiss the taller man's neck lightly. "And you seem to be the expert on knowing precisely what I need." His fear and guilt over the dream had not vanished - they never had since the first moment he had recognized that Hardin was going to be very special to him. But for the time being, if he could not save Hardin from his disturbing fate, at least he could make someone's lives less unpleasant, and that was at least a small comfort.