Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer. Believe in the power of the disclaimer. Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the list overload, but please bear with me (feel free to send angry emails and fling inanimate objects) until I catch up. Keep in mind that internet is a two hour bus ride away at the moment and I have to boil my water before it's safe to drink. Gotta love rural Ecuador!

Story Notes:

He's alone when it begins. Always alone. The snow falls all around him, but it doesn't touch him. That's how he knows it's a dream. There's always been snow, but in the dreams he doesn't feel snow on his skin or taste snowflakes on the tip of his tongue. In this place the snow is only a metaphor. He wonders who it will be this time --Victoria? his father? If he's lucky it will be his mother. He misses her terribly.

In a moment he'll go back to inside; Ray will notice if he's gone too long. For the moment this is fine, though. He likes the cold and the snow is achingly white, not at all like what he's become accustomed to in Chicago. Sometimes he prefers the ideal perfection of this place, regardless of whether it's real or only in his head. The distinction between real and imaginary has always been blurry.

"Hello?"

It's like looking in a mirror at first. He can suddenly see why people think he's good looking.

"What am I doing here?"

The self in front of him doesn't answer. His stare is very disconcerting.

For the moment he chooses to ignore him and focus his attention on the rest of his surroundings. The snow is falling more heavily now and its covering the countryside thoroughly. His reflection is untouched by the powder, but thats probably not important. Its too obvious to be a sign.

He looks down and sees tracks. Wolf, and he thinks of Diefenbaker with a smile his reflection doesnt reciprocate, but also caribou and animals not native to this climate, further proof that hes dreaming.

When its over hes back in front of the cabin where he stepped outside. Ray is calling him to dinner, so he goes back inside. Later he sits at the table while Ray sleeps. He pulls Rays postcard out of his pocket. Its a little faded now from a year of touching, but the picture is unchanged, as is the message. With a sigh he puts the card away and spreads out his bedroll. If theyre going back to Chicago tomorrow hell need all the rest he can get.

In the morning they prepared to leave, and he cant help a twinge of anticipation. Chicago is 400 miles closer to Ray. Maybe, just maybe he could hope a little longer.

End In Good Faith by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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