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Lenny is in the passenger seat beside him, feet up on the dashboard, arm stretched out the open window, fingers playing in the wind. The low sun gleams off her sunglasses.
It'll be night soon, but Lenny won't take off her sunglasses. Not that it matters. Not that they're real, not that Lenny's real, not that any of this is real. All things are made of matter, and all matter is made of atoms, and atoms are ninety-nine point nine nine nine nine percent empty space. Which is to say they are nothing, and all matter is nothing, and all things are nothing.
Therefore, reality does not exist. It's very simple.
Well, there is the-- Point zero zero zero one percent, he supposes. A very tiny sliver of genuine existence. But he finds it hard to believe that such a tiny thing is worth making a fuss about.
In this unreal reality, Oliver had the unfortunate luck to end up playing host to a monster. The Shadow King, nee Amahl Farouk, David Haller's former mental parasite. Quite honestly, Oliver expected the experience to be much, much worse than it’s been. Nightmarish, in fact, after what David went through.
But the Shadow King has only an occasional interest in torturing Oliver. Those occasions are indeed-- Breathtakingly nightmarish, but they pass and then-- Things are amicable again.
The stop for dinner and for the night, at a quaint little inn. Oliver holds the door for Lenny. They take a table inside. They're only given one menu, one glass of water, one table setting, because no one but Oliver can see her.
And yet there are two of everything. When he picks up his menu, she picks up hers. When he drinks from his glass, she drinks from hers. When their food arrives, they eat it together.
The food is hardly fine cuisine, but it's hearty and delicious. Food always seems-- More real than he expects it to be. It's not like it was in the ice cube, when looking away for too long let things disappear. Things don't generally do that anymore. They stay put whether he's paying attention or not.
"It's strange how things stay," he says to Lenny, once they're settled in their room. "How they-- Persist."
"Is that bothering you?" Lenny asks. "I can make them go away."
It doesn't feel like a generous offer. "No, thank you," Oliver says.
Lenny smirks. She wanders around the room, touching things that she isn't really touching. Sometimes she moves things, but they only stay moved until Oliver stops paying attention, and then when he looks again they're back where they started.
“We’re looking for your body,” Oliver says, conversationally. “So what does it look like?”
Lenny pauses. “Like me,” she says.
“I was under the impression that Amahl Farouk was a man,” Oliver says.
“I was,” Lenny says.
“Are you a man now?” Oliver asks. Perhaps it’s the sort of thing he should have asked sooner. “I think of you as— Your appearance.”
“I know,” Lenny replies. “You see what I want you to see.” She knocks everything off the low dresser, like a bored cat, and sits on it.
“So you want to be Lenny?” Oliver asks. “A woman?”
Lenny gives him a warning look. “I’ve been plenty of things. I don’t have to be anything.”
“Then why not be yourself?” Oliver asks. He knows he’s asking for trouble but he’s curious. This person is living inside of him and he wants to understand them. “Presumably you’ll be Amahl Farouk once you have your body back.”
“Not that you’ll live to find out,” Lenny warns, but Oliver knows when she’s truly angry and she’s not.
“You were a man,” Oliver continues. There’s little known about the Shadow King. “Egyptian?”
“Iranian,” Lenny replies. It seems Oliver was right and she does want to talk. “Though I did spend time there.”
“But that’s not where your body is?”
“No,” Lenny says, and her lip curls with disgust. “It was buried far from any home.”
“You don’t talk like her anymore,” Oliver observes. “Is that because David is gone?”
That earns him a flare of genuine fury, but it's quickly banked. "I'll get my body back. And then I'll find him."
"I hope you can," Oliver says, genuinely.
He's quite worried about David himself. They took quite a detour trying to find him, all to no avail. There was no trace of him after his sudden disappearance, no clues to where he'd been taken. David's blazing, constant psychic presence simply-- Stopped, when they looked away.
Lenny hops off the dresser and walks to the window. Oliver looks back at the dresser, and all the things she knocked off it are there again, whole and unharmed.
"Perhaps there's nothing to find," Oliver offers. "Your body, David."
"No," Lenny says, flatly refusing. "I will not allow them to be gone."
"Then you wish to control the world?" Oliver asks.
"We both know there is no world," Lenny says. "We are gods, and gods decide what is real."
"I used to imaginify myself kingdoms but they were never real," Oliver laments. "I was alone. I didn't like it very much."
"No," Lenny says, softly. "It's-- Easy to take things for granted."
"You miss him. David."
"Does an amputated limb miss its body?" Lenny asks.
It's a breathtaking statement, possibly the most open the Shadow King has been in all this time. "It must be difficult to lose both your homes," Oliver says, understanding.
Lenny goes still. She turns and looks at Oliver with new consideration.
"But I have a new home," Lenny says, walking towards him. "Perhaps it's time I got to know it better."
"What would you like to know?" Oliver asks.
Lenny smirks. "It's cute that you think you matter." And then she reaches into him and--
Oliver goes somewhere else. Somewhere dark and still and quiet. He senses-- That there are others here, but they're in the same state he is, immobile, silenced. Waiting to be taken out again, like toys in a chest.
And then, some impossible-to-determine time later-- He finds himself back in the car, in the passenger side, beside himself. The other Oliver is driving.
"Good morning," Oliver greets. It seems like the thing to say, even though it appears to be midday. "Any luck?"
"It's been said that travel broadens the mind," the other Oliver says. "I find it numbing."
Oliver looks around. Clearly the Shadow King has not had any luck, at least not with finding his body or David. They're not where they were, though Oliver wasn't sure where that was and isn't sure where this is either. It's more green, less mountainous. Lusher, cooler. He breathes in, but-- He's not quite here.
"Would you like me to drive?" he offers.
"You want your body back?" the other Oliver asks, knowing.
"If it's not too much trouble," Oliver says. "I was without it for quite some time. I'm sure you understand."
"Perhaps I've decided to keep this body," the other Oliver says. "Perhaps you are now-- Der Schmarotzer. Le parasite. Then what will you do?"
"I'm afraid I would insist on getting it back," Oliver says.
The other Oliver laughs. "This is why I brought you back, my friend. You amuse me."
The car turns off, and stops at a gas station. The other Oliver gets out and fuels up the car.
"What happened to Lenny?" Oliver asks.
"You were right," the other Oliver says. "I was-- Holding on to the past. Quite unlike me."
"Then she's gone?" Oliver asks, though he's not sure if she was ever actually real.
"Oh no," the other Oliver assures him. "I thought perhaps-- She could drive for a while." And when he gets into the car--
The other Oliver goes stiff, wide-eyed. He looks around. "What the fuck?"
"Lenny?" Oliver asks, concerned.
Lenny stares at Oliver, stares at her reflection in the rear view mirror. And then-- Lowers the mirror.
There's someone behind them, in the back seat. But they can't look to see who it is. Lenny starts the car and they get back on the road.
"Um, what the fuck?" Lenny says, panicked even though her body -- Oliver's body -- is calm and controlled.
"It would be best if you simply drove," Oliver advises.
At night, they stop again. When they step out of the car, suddenly Oliver is in his own body, and-- The Shadow King is Lenny again. Presumably, Lenny herself is back in the dark place, with the others.
"Who are they?" Oliver asks. "The people inside us?"
"Ah, my collection," Lenny says. "I have met many interesting people over the years. But bodies age and fail. I preserved their minds, made them-- As immortal as myself."
"How many are there?" Oliver asks.
"To be honest, I've lost count," Lenny admits. "Perhaps they are in need of dusting. A collection should be maintained, the chaff removed."
"And removing them would-- Kill them?" Oliver asks.
"What is death without a body?" Lenny asks. "What is life?"
"Perhaps new definitions are required," Oliver says.
"We are beyond definitions, mon amie," Lenny says. She's become more grandiose in Oliver's absence. Or perhaps she was always that way.
"Isn't keeping them-- The very definition of 'holding on to the past'?" Oliver challenges.
Lenny chuckles. "Absolutely."
"Do you like being her?" Oliver asks, when they're in their room for the night.
"I like-- The choice," Lenny decides. "David's body was-- Overpowering. It was-- A constant struggle to maintain myself. I fed upon him and used his power against him, but even that was not enough."
"Then-- You couldn't be yourself in him?" Oliver asks.
"Over time I became-- Something else," Lenny admits.
"Then that's why you refuse to be yourself now?" Oliver asks. "Because you're afraid?"
"Hardly," Lenny scoffs, but her bluster has a hint of fear. "Why this obsession? Does it bother you, that I look like this? Do you hate it?"
"I'm simply curious," Oliver says. "I don't remember very much of my life, but I think I have always been-- A scientist. As long as we are together, I would like, with your permission, to-- Study you."
Lenny seems genuinely flattered. "And what do you hope to learn?"
"I don't know," Oliver admits. "But you are-- Fascinating."
That pleases Lenny even more. "And you would like to see my true face?"
"I'd like to meet Amahl Farouk," Oliver says. "If you are a god, is it not the dream of every scientist to see God's true face?"
Lenny grins, wide and toothy. "Such flattery. I will-- Consider it."
And then-- Oliver's back in the dark place again.
He’s there for some time, though he never knows how long that time is. He hears a child crying in the distance. And then--
He hears water. He feels the sun on his skin. He opens his eyes and finds himself on a lounge chair by a shimmering blue pool. He looks around and sees-- Lenny in another chair, her eyes closed. No sunglasses. And another woman, blonde and vaguely familiar, also asleep. And a few other men and women he doesn't know, all asleep. They're dressed in bathing suits, airy summer clothes.
Oliver hears the clink of glass, and he sits up. There's another man standing at a small bar, preparing drinks. Middle-aged, with dark hair, a mustache, and-- The same, familiar sunglasses that Lenny always wears.
The Shadow King. And perhaps--
Oliver stands and walks over. The man smiles in greeting.
"Would you like a drink?" Amahl Farouk offers.
"Certainly," Oliver says. He's handed one and he sips it. "It's very good."
"Only the best for my friends," Amahl declares. "Shall we take a dip?"
They shed their robes and step into the pool, drinks in hand. They lie in the sun, paddling, basking. Oliver is fairly sure that none of this is happening in any physical sense, but it's quite pleasurable nonetheless.
Amahl spreads his arms, displaying himself. "Do you like it? I made it myself."
"Your real body?" Oliver asks.
"As well as I can recall," Amahl admits. "I had hoped to find my body quickly. To-- Remember myself inside it. And yet-- Still I wait. Would you like to study it?"
"Certainly," Oliver agrees. He swims up to Amahl, drink held above the water. Attraction hardly seems possible to him anymore, but Amahl is clearly attractive. Masculine, confident, strong.
Quite involuntarily, Oliver kisses him. Amahl kisses back, cups the back of his head. The air feels private and close between them, surrounded by the water, the sides of the pool.
"You are not David," Amahl says, with a sad longing. "But perhaps--"
And then Oliver feels-- Younger, slimmer, stronger. He reaches up and his beard is gone. "Did you--" he starts, and his voice isn't his voice. It's--
Amahl hushes him with a finger, and then-- They're out of the pool, bodies still dripping, soaking the blanket beneath them as they lie together on the grass.
"David," Amahl murmurs, and caresses him tenderly. "My sweet boy."
Oliver has no control. He touches Amahl back, hands worshipful on his body. Oliver's David-body is aroused and wanting, and welcomes Amahl's kisses eagerly. Their wet bathing suits are tugged away, and they rut against each other.
"David," Amahl moans again, needing. His grip grows stronger, more forceful. He nips at Oliver, sucks on his skin. Oliver turns onto his belly and offers himself, and Amahl growls.
Oliver lies in the dappled sunlight as Amahl's tongue and fingers spread him open. Oliver paws at the blanket and moans.
"My beautiful boy," Amahl murmurs, as he mounts his back. "You'll never leave me again."
"Never," Oliver says, with David's voice. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, please."
"I will never forgive you," Amahl promises.
Amahl thrusts inside and Oliver keens, thrusts back against him. They ride each other and Amahl touches him all over, strokes and pinches and paws at him, strokes his aching cock and mouths at his back. Pleasure overwhelms them, and they come together, Amahl thrusting hard, pouring deep and hot inside him, holding him so, so tight.
And then it's gone, all of it. Oliver's back in the darkness, his body still throbbing and tender. He has the vague sense of-- Something breaking somewhere. Rage, absolute fury lashing out in every direction.
He's glad to be in the darkness, then.
Time passes, and then-- Oliver finds himself back in his body, behind the wheel again. Lenny is in the passenger seat beside him, feet up on the dashboard, arm stretched out the open window, fingers playing in the wind. The low sun gleams off her sunglasses.
He decides that-- It would be best if he simply drove.