Clockwork Twist : Dreamer by Emily Thompson

brandy hit Twist before the scent, and rolled warm down his throat.  Something about it seemed to steady him and Twist took another drink.  After a moment, he started to get a real handle on his situation.  He blinked a few times, looked around the pub again, remembered that it was probably after midnight by now, and then looked down to Jonas's fingers in his.  He looked up to Jonas, who was still watching him carefully.
    “Don't we look a bit … odd?” Twist asked softly, glancing down to their hands.
    “This is San Francisco,” Jonas said with a shrug. “I'm sure no one cares.”
    “Ah,” Twist said, wondering what that meant. “Out there on the street, did you … embrace me?”
    “I did not,” Jonas snapped quickly. ”I was just reaching for that spot on your neck.”
    “Ah.”
    “How do you feel now?”
    “Numb,” Twist said, taking another small drink. “What's happening right now?” he asked, trying to sound calm, even though worry was starting to break through the white wall at the edges of his mind.
    “I think you're putting yourself back together,” Jonas said.  When Twist looked up to him, he found a light smile on Jonas's face. “It's kind of interesting to watch.”
    “I fell apart, did I?” Twist asked.  A recent memory wavered in the fog inside his head.  It seemed to be important, but Twist couldn't quite catch it.
    “Oh yes,” Jonas said, nodding. “I think there're still bits of you on the pavement.”
    “Ah.”  Twist tried again to catch at the image that eluded him, but all he got was more white chill. “So, why are you still holding my hand, then?”
    “Because you're not done yet,” Jonas said, not moving. “I'm worried you might shatter again if I let go too fast.  We've got time.  Don't rush it.”
    Twist closed his eyes and leaned his head in his other hand.  For some reason, it felt unreasonably heavy.  Without the rest of the world to catch at his weary attention, the soft rhythm of Jonas's blood pumping through his skin was easier to notice.  Twist followed the pulse idly, finding a heartbeat as well.  A flashing image managed to free itself from the fog.  A red house.  A number of people.  Questions.  The memory unraveled quickly.  Twist gave a groan and opened his eyes.
    “Bloody hell, what did I do?” Twist said suddenly, staring into space.
    “It's all right,” Jonas said softly.
    “No, no, it isn't,” Twist said, rubbing at his face with his free hand. “Heavens above, I just bolted, didn't I?  I ran away.  All they were doing was asking me questions!” he said, glaring into space now. “I'm such a freak!”
    “Hey,” Jonas snapped, drawing his eyes. “I told you.  I'm the only one who can call you that.  You're not allowed.”
    “What does that even mean?”
    “All right, so you did something weird,” Jonas said with a sigh. “It's not the first time, and it won't be the last.  Your whole life is weird, so it goes with the territory.  And who cares what those idiots think, anyway?  We're leaving this city in a few hours and you're not likely to ever see any of them again.  Don't beat yourself up over this.  You're too bloody good at it.”
    Twist narrowed his eyes at Jonas. “You're never this forgiving.  What's happened?”
    “You shattered,” Jonas said softly. “I've never seen you hurt that bad.”
    Twist's gaze slipped down to his glass.  He finished it in one go, letting the brandy burn away the cold tightness in his chest.
    “Look, you don't have to explain anything to me.  I understand enough just by looking at you.  I just want to know that you'll be all right if I let go.”
    Twist gave a sigh and looked at their hands.  Jonas's fingers were darker than his own, tanned from a life in the sun.  Out at the edges of his own mind, Twist could see the monsters circling.  But now, he could see them clearly.  As much as he wanted to stay buried in the chilly bright fog forever, he knew he couldn't.  He