AN: Jeez! I'm actually typing this up and it hasn't been a month since I've last updated this. Go me. The chapters are perpetually untitled. Why? Because I like them that way. XD

Disclaimer: I actually own everything. Cool. Just felt like saying that. XD

When the Last One Falls
Chapter Four

"Jazz! Jazz, wake up!"

Jazz opened his eyes, then instantly closed them again. "Close the blinds, Saria…you know how sensitive my eyes are," he hissed, turning away from the source of light. He tried to pull his light blue comforter up over his head but he found that it was missing. Slowly he opened his eyes, adjusting to the light that managed to filter through the blinds.

"Did you forget to set your alarm again?" Saria asked sternly, shooing Jazz out of his own bed. "It's nine o'clock and you still haven't shown up for breakfast! Everyone's worrying about you!"

"Tell them I'm fine," Jazz muttered, his back to Saria as he dressed. "I just…couldn't sleep last night."

"What's wrong?" Saria asked, approaching Jazz. "Every time you say that I know there has to be something wrong."

"Saria—Nitemaria is finally preparing for an attack," he whispered, tossing on his gloves. His skin was protected this way, with these clothes. At least, the sunlight didn't bother him as much with them on. "Last night I observed an irregularity in Nitemaria's light formation—ask Savin if you wish. He saw it, too. I want to investigate the western section of Nitemaria. Send whoever you can in, as long as you don't go to the Parliament for help."

"Jazz…you're acting on a hunch," Saria whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Jazz turned around. "I know," he said, sighing. "But it's a hunch I can no longer ignore. Nitemaria's finally showing signs of military activity, and I must know what's going on."

"Do you wish me to send Savin to investigate? He is a Nitemarian," Saria said, searching Jazz with her eyes. "He would know how to get around…"

"No," Jazz whispered, shaking his head. He looked down at the floor, pretending to search for his boots. He picked them up slowly, setting himself down on the bed before slipping them on. "He has more use for me here," Jazz finished finally.

"You really enjoy his company, don't you?" Saria asked, sitting besides Jazz on the bed.

"He's the only true friend I have," Jazz muttered, getting off the bed without so much as a glance at Saria. "Wake him up and show him the way to the dining room. If he complains tell him that I need to speak with him—in private."

"Yes, Sir," Saria uttered. Jazz could sense her watching him as he walked out of his room, his head low and focused upon the ground. He knew shouldn't have told her that he thought of Savin as his only friend—it wasn't exactly true. It was just the fact he was already closer to Savin than he had been with any of his other friends. Sighing, Jazz warned himself not to get too close. He might lose Savin, one way or another, and when he lost Savin he wouldn't have the time to grieve properly.

Jazz gave himself a shake, telling himself that he did not need to think like that. He needed to focus on other things, things with more importance than friends. His city was being threatened; his entire country was waiting for everything to play out. He needed to be ready for it, needed to have taken all the necessary procedures. This was his home and he needed to protect it; that was his duty as king.

And, for the first time since his parents' departure, he felt as if he had everything under his control. No matter how much of a grip the Parliament may have on the country, Jazz knew he could outsmart them this time. They had needed to depend on him once before, they would need to do so again, eventually. Things would go as he hoped, and Drea and its inhabitants would be fine. There was no real need to worry about the war.

Jazz walked into the dining room. It was just what it sounded like—a place meant to be eaten at, but only for the King and his family. Friends could be invited to eat with him as long as there was room, and considering that Jazz was the only member of his family alive, there was plenty of room for Savin. Of course, Jazz wouldn't eat until Savin arrived at the table, which would take anything between a few minutes and a few hours, depending on how Savin would react to being awakened so early in the morning.

Then again, for Jazz, nine was the equivalent of sleeping in. For Savin sleep must not have been something he had indulged in often, considering how he had been on the run. Jazz knew that sleep was thought of as a waste of precious time when one was running—he had run away from home once. They had found him within a few days, however, since he didn't think of how much it would hurt him if he ran during the day. He had spent a few days in the hospital to make sure he didn't have any UV radiation. He remembered how angry his parents had been when they saw how badly he had been sunburned.

Of course, Jazz had healed from that incident without any physical evidence to prove that it had happened. It was his mistake in the first place, forgetting that his skin and eyes could not protect him from the sun's rays like a normal person's could. But he had gotten over it; he knew it was best that he was brought back, or else no one would be here to run the country. The Parliament would have had complete control by now if he had managed to run away just as Savin had.

"What're you thinking about, Jazz?"

Jazz looked up from the table to find Savin leaning against the doorway on one shoulder, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "About the time I ran away," Jazz responded, shrugging. "It was so long ago, way before I knew of the threat of war…."

"Did you come back or did they find you?" Savin asked, tilting his head slightly. Jazz noticed he was wearing his glasses.

"They found me curled up in a crispy ball," Jazz muttered. "I-I was so young I didn't realize that being an albino meant being very sensitive to sunlight."

"Oh yeah…you would be sensitive to light, wouldn't you?" Savin whispered, looking away from Jazz. "That just…ruins what I hoped we could do today."

Jazz blinked. "What were you planning? I can go outside still, I just can't be out there for too long," Jazz said, sitting down at the table. He motioned Savin to follow, but Savin just shook his head.

"I'm fine. Already ate," he whispered. "And what I had wanted to do would have caused you to be outside for too long, trust me." After that Savin looked away, staring intently at the wall. "Do you…" he began, but he trailed off.

"Do I what?" Jazz asked after ordering his breakfast.

"You really don't remember any of my human's dream, right?" Savin blurted out before biting his lip.

"No, not a bit of it," Jazz answered truthfully. "Why?"

"It's just that…it's hard to explain," Savin said slowly. "I didn't…think you'd be in it, that's all. Nothing had happened to you, from what I can remember."

"You remember some of it?"

"Only…only the beginning," Savin whispered. "It was the only part that was repeated."

"Your human has reoccurring dreams? Ouch," Jazz muttered.

"Tell me about it. I've been performing that one for weeks," Savin said with a sigh. "It was the same until last night. It's odd."

"Well, don't worry about it. A human's dream has very little affect on us. For a human they might mean something, but for us…"

"It's a way of life," Savin finished, nodding to himself. "But, when the one your human dreams about is the one you love," Savin paused, staring at Jazz intently, almost resolutely, "and you see his love's Dream-Human die before your eyes, knowing that your love died, too…."

"You hate performing nightmares, don't you?" Jazz asked, looking down at the food that was handed in front of him, thanking the waiter thoughtlessly.

"More than anything," Savin responded, looking away from Jazz again.

This time they both remained silent, Jazz watching Savin out of the corner of his eyes. He had only known Savin for a little over twenty-four hours, but he could read the other Dream-Human rather well. It didn't help that Savin seemed to be a very habitual person, one used to doing things over and over without a thought of changing them. Usually, Jazz figured, Savin was very loud spoken, open-minded, happy person.

He was the total opposite today, it seemed. Suddenly he was acting reserved, shy, pensive. It bothered Jazz but on a degree that didn't make him worry about Savin. Savin sighed heavily, tightening his crossed arms over his chest, almost hugging himself. He looked depressed, exhausted, unwilling to go on. That's what was truly bothering Jazz. "Are you sure you're all right, Savin? You're not acting like yourself." It was a simple enough statement and question.

Savin's reaction was complicated. First his eyes widened as he turned to Jazz, fear slightly more than evident, then he turned away again, worrying his lip between his teeth. It was ages and a day before he responded with a short: "I'm just…tired, that's all."

He did look tired. The way he slumped against the doorway reeked of exhaustion, but Jazz could tell he was not physically drained of his energy. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Honestly?" Savin whispered. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put the glasses back on. "No. I didn't."

"Well, that's why," Jazz responded, shrugging one shoulder. Okay, he thought, now to see what it was that kept him up. "Was it because of your performance?"

"More like why the hell you were in it," Savin muttered.

Jazz didn't like Savin's tone but didn't want to say anything about it.

"It's just so complicated. I-I couldn't explain everything if I tried. Don't worry, though, I'm fine. I'll always be fine," Savin said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "It was my human's dream, not mine. No need to worry about it."

Jazz nodded, but knew better. Savin was obviously bothered and worried by his human's nightmare. If only he could figure out why… "Well, what do you want to do today, Savin?" he asked cheerfully. "I don't have much to do today besides bossing Saria around."

"She's going to end up hating you if you continue to mess with her—isn't she your guardian?" Savin asked, finally smirking at Jazz.

"Practically. And she couldn't hate me. Get annoyed with me, yes, but hate me? I doubt it," Jazz responded, smirking back. Well, he knew he could still get Savin to smirk, now….

"She reminds me so much of my older sister," Savin said, grinning. "I remember how I used to pick fights with her all the time." Savin's facial expression changed, and he sighed softly. "Then…one day…she died."

Jazz blinked at Savin. "How…how long ago was this?" he asked.

"Long enough that I don't miss her quite as much as I used to," Savin responded, smiling softly. "After that my parents kind of…forgot I existed."

"Is that why you…ran away?" Jazz whispered, putting down his fork. "You can sit down if you like, you know, even if you aren't going to eat."

"Part of it," Savin responded, sitting down next to Jazz. "Are you…gonna finish that?" he asked hesitantly, pointing at Jazz's plate.

"No, actually, I was just about to offer it to you," Jazz responded. "Thought you said you weren't hungry?"

"I thought I wasn't," Savin said, his voice muffled. "Anyway, what do you want to do today?"

"Doesn't matter," Jazz said. "I've already started my plans for a defensive move. I thought about it all last night."

"Did you really?" Savin asked, tossing down his fork. Jazz blinked when he noticed that the plate was spotless. "I was up all night tryin' to figure out why the hell I haven't been caught yet."

"That's not what you told me earlier," Jazz responded softly, picking up the empty plate. "I'll be right back, Savin."

Savin nodded, watching Jazz as he left. Usually such an action would have unnerved Jazz, but it didn't bother him. It wasn't like Savin was expected him to do anything spectacular; he was just observing without being obtrusive. Silently Jazz placed the plate in the kitchen and glanced around. No one was there. Normally that wouldn't bother him, but…he didn't think that it would ever be so silent in here. Normally the cooks were running around like maniacs.

Jazz shrugged to himself and walked back into the dining room, stopping at the doorway. He watched as Savin muttered things to himself in a language Jazz could not understand. His tone was what caused Jazz to just stand there and watch. It seemed like Savin was yelling at himself, but it was more, "I can't believe this is happening to me!" in a way.

"Savin? Are you sure everything's okay?" Jazz asked softly, causing Savin to stop in what he could guess was mid-rant. "You can go and try to get some sleep if you want…"

"You know, you act different when you're around someone you like," Savin said, turning around to face Jazz. "I noticed it yesterday…. If you were to act a bit more like you do around me towards everyone else you wouldn't have to be so alone here."

"What brought that up?" Jazz asked, sitting beside Savin, staring at him.

"You're right, I do need to go back to sleep," Savin whispered, rubbing his temples. "I've got a headache that just won't go away…but if I sleep I probably wouldn't know when I had to get up and move."

"What do you mean?" Jazz whispered.

"A Nitemarian gets a tattoo a day or two after they're born—but the tattoo is meant to warn us of any dangers, especially when the dangers are close by. It burns every so often, and if I don't want to get caught I have to pay attention to it…" Savin responded. "It burned a bit yesterday, but it disappeared completely when I caught up with you…"

"That must have been odd," Jazz responded, nodding to himself.

"I haven't figured out why it stopped; and if it doesn't burn I won't know when to leave," Savin said, placing a hand over where the tattoo was on his arm.

"Maybe it only reacts when you feel as if you're in danger," Jazz suggested, shrugging to himself.

"I never thought of that…could be possible—I do feel safer here than I did anywhere else," Savin admitted hesitantly. Jazz glanced at him and noticed that Savin was blushing slightly.

"It must be nice to feel safe," Jazz said suddenly, looking away from Savin and focusing on the table. "I've never really felt safe in this Palace in my entire life. Maybe once in a while I did, but those were the times when my parents actually seemed to pay attention to me. They were so wrapped up in running the country that I was always second to it."

"It's better than being in no place at all," Savin muttered, smirking dryly. "Your parents probably loved you, Jazz, they just didn't know how to show it."

"Maybe…maybe you're right," Jazz said softly. "I could tell they didn't…hate me, exactly. It was more or less they just didn't have the time to deal with me. I wish I could see them again…"

"Maybe you will, Jazz," Savin responded, turning to smile at the younger boy. "After all, you never know when they'll come back."

"Do you think they will?" Jazz asked. His eyes turned to the table again, as if he were asking it instead of Savin.

"You never know," Savin said. "And maybe my human will start having pleasant dreams for once. The longer I'm here the lighter my tattoo will become. Nitemarians are only considered such with the tattoo—without it they're normal, like Dreans."

"So that's why you came here," Jazz mused out loud. "But can't the tattoo come back?"

"I don't know…once someone manages to lose the Mark they really can't be dragged back to be a Nitemarian. It's just so hard to get away…" Savin muttered. "I was nearly killed a few times."

"You don't look as if you've been injured," Jazz whispered, studying Savin out of the corner of his eye.

"Getting captured after running away is the equivalent of being killed," Savin responded. "I was almost caught a few times, barely managed to get away each time, too."

"You were that determined to come here? Why? This place is no better than Nitemaria! Hell, the only difference between Nitemarians and Dreans is how their human-counterparts dream. And we don't control which dreams we're in, either. We're just handed a role that we need to play out…"

"If you don't mind my asking, how often do you have to act in a dream—be it your counterpart's or someone else's dream?" Savin asked slowly.

"Pretty often…at least once or twice a week, usually more than that, most of the time," Jazz answered.

"Are most of them normal dreams?" Savin continued to inquire. "My human's had some nice dreams before, even if I am a Nitemarian."

"I'm in normal dreams, mostly. My human has had nightmares once in a while, but they're usually so rare," Jazz said. "But…my human is growing depressed."

"That means you are, too," Savin said softly.

"Not necessarily. I don't feel depressed—at least, not like before," Jazz admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I really should find Saria and see what she's—"

"Jazz!" Saria ran into the room, gasping and holding a stitch in her side. "The…queen of Nitemaria—wishes…to speak with you."

Jazz blinked at Saria. "You didn't need to run the long way—there's a short-cut to the throne room that goes through the Royal Weaponry room," Jazz said softly, standing up from his chair. "Savin—go to your room and please try to stay out of sight."

Savin nodded, getting out of his chair. "You're actually going to try and have a conversation with her?"

"Why not? Maybe she'll be stupid enough to tell me what's going on over there…" Jazz muttered, walking towards Saria.

Saria's expression hardened. "She has your parents, Jazz," she said, stomping her foot against the floor. "Come on! You have to get them back!"

Jazz frowned and stalked ahead of Saria. "She better not have my parents," he hissed, narrowing his eyes. "She just better not…"