Title: Dreaming a Reality

AN: Anyone still reading this?

Well, the last time I wrote a story for this fandom, I was 16 and now I'm almost 20. Meaning that my writing has grown considerably and that I don't want to be judged based on what my younger self accomplished. I've thought about deleting those stories, but I feel like they show me who I was back then. Anyways, going to stop rambling now.

SO, borrowed the Aurora Chair from Farscape, the title is from a song by Senses Fail but I just like the title, and umm...I think that's it.

/-/-/

He had felt that something had been off for a while now. He had the feeling before and he knew that he was being watched –stalked- by some unknown persons. There weren't many clues. Some swishes of dark cloaks around corners and glimpses of faces which disappeared in the next instant. But the thing that made him sure of it was that overall feeling that someone was watching him. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and an awkward aura of heaviness surrounded his every move.

Rebecca was visiting friends but she would be back tonight and had been specifically on leave for the next month. Verne was due to arrive soon for a visit and the telegram he received yesterday reported that he was doing well. Passepartout had not verbally offended anyone in months. There had been no dangerous missions of which he had helped out of late that could warrant such behavior. Nothing he had done lately which would have caused anyone to become vengeful which meant that the past had come back to haunt him.

He was also prepared for this, maybe paranoid and obsessively so but nevertheless prepared. He had kept a careful mental and written list of those who would ever want him deceased and he had gone over the list a few times now. He had been able to narrow down the possibilities and as time passed he had been able to eliminate many of those possibilities.

When he told Rebecca of his suspicions, she had done some prodding around but she had also come to the same conclusion as he had. With the life he had so far lived - and would continue to live - he had acquired a great deal of enemies who would all wish him great bodily, psychological, and emotional harm. Which was really no great help to him as of now.

After so much time trying to actively find out who was behind all of this, Phileas had come to the thought that there was nothing else that he could do. He kept a wary eye out for any strangers he met, he watched anyone that looked at him for a moment too long, but really the most he could do was to wait or leave on a trip. And leaving didn't seem like that great of an option. If he left, it meant that he was frightened. That he was afraid of this unknown being and there was no way that he would admit that. There was no challenge that he would turn from, and though this one was unspoken it still was a challenge.

So he would wait for his foe. This coward of a man who stuck to the shadows and when the time came, Phileas would be ready.

/-/-/

Jules arrived in England on a rare day when every once in a while the sun actually shined through the clouds. It was such a nice day and since it was only mid-afternoon he knew it would be no problem for him to walk to Saville Row. His meager belongings hardly put up an obstacle and it would certainly save him from worrying if he would have enough money for food when he got back to Pairs.

As always, most British citizens ignored him completely on principle so it made it easier for him to know if anyone was following or watching him. Still, he took care by sticking to the main streets and stayed aware of his surroundings. It didn't help that he was so tired. It wasn't just his exams that got to him but the whole month had as well.

He wasn't sure what was going to happen once he got to the townhouse. He knew he would have to explain himself, especially after one of his…visions. But he wasn't sure what was happening. Though his visions had always been random, they had never been disruptive nor had they ever left him so drained of energy and pained by headaches that even the barest glimpse of light would make him so nauseous that he would be sick enough as to try to throw up his stomach lining.

He was nervous about telling the Foggs, but he had promised to visit once in a while. Now that his summer holidays were here he had no excuses to use anymore, any writing that he could do in his garret he could also do in the Foggs' company. He had already visited his family during Christmas and wasn't expected for another two months.

There wasn't much to do about it, his friends at the university had all made plans and were traveling here and there. They had invited him along, of course, and he had agreed to go but when the visions started taking a turn for the worse, he decided that he shouldn't. He didn't want to burden them with his problems when they should be out having fun.

When Fogg heard that he wasn't planning on going abroad with his university friends, he insisted –demanded- that he come to England. He had tried to decline, but there was only so much fight one could put up against Fogg, Rebecca, and Passepartout combined.

Jules checked the street signs and knew that he was less than a block away. He smiled, even though he was anxious he was still glad that he would get the chance to see them. Things haven't felt the same since their last…adventure. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but he knew these headaches had to do with…what had happened.

/-/-/

AN: Seriously, please someone tell me if they're here. This fandom's been kind of dead lately. It's nice to know you're not alone…