Dragon Country, final part

[pensnest]

On Monday morning, Lance apologised to Lisa for making her life miserable for the past week, and set to work with a vengeance. He invited a bunch of applicants back for getting-to-know-you drinks. He made a concerted effort and a lot of phone calls to find more clients looking for new talent and new staff. He smiled, he shook hands, he took notes and he revamped his agency's advertising to bring in even more clients and applicants.

When he got home, he took the dogs out and then settled in to work out how to improve his magnificent indexing system, something he'd been meaning to do for months. And he read his book about Kaluza-Klein theory until the physics started to make sense, and did not write to the authors to advise them to look at JC Chasez's new sculptures.

It set the pattern for his week.

It worked, during his waking hours. He was too busy to think about Adam more than, oh, five times an hour, too busy to take notice of the empty ache in his heart. At night, though, his bed felt too big and he kept reaching for someone who wasn't there. The nightmares woke him in the small hours, and he'd sob into Dingo's neck, and try to find that image at the edge of his mind, the tranquil lake in the mountains, peaceful, cool, green. When he could picture it clearly, it helped, just a little. If he could imagine himself there, the flames were easier to quell.


"Are you planning on eating today?" Lisa asked him on Friday, jerking him from the midst of an indexing binge. It was nearly two-thirty.

"I guess I should," he said, ruefully. He wasn't hungry, didn't seem to have any urge to eat these days, but he knew he ought to. "I'll head down to Fatone's." He ought to see Joey. He ought to tell Joey what he'd told Chris and JC, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

As Lance walked into the restaurant, Papa Fatone greeted him, frowned, and escorted him personally to a booth hidden away behind a half wall. A few moments later, Joey set down a glass of house lemonade and slid into the seat opposite him.

"How are you?"

"I'm good." No, Lance realised, that wasn't how he'd meant to start the conversation. The habit of a happy answer was hard to break. "How are you?" He knew Joey knew he wasn't 'good', and Joey knew that he knew, but Joey went along with it for the moment, and told Lance about that thing Kelly said a couple of days ago to a group of Round Tablers that had made them all laugh and give her a record tip, and about the thing his Mom had done with the pastries and the coffee liqueur, and about how his little girl was pretending to read books now, the ones she'd learned by heart.

Lance listened, and sipped his lemonade. "Wait," he said, "aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Lunch rush is over," Joey said with a shrug. "And you need the company. Haven't seen you in here for a while, but when your boy turned up last week he didn't stay for a meal, he just bought a bunch of pastries and disappeared on his motorbike like a bat out of hell."

Adam and his motorbike. Yes.

"Does that mean I'm getting a plate of chocolate cream puffs and cannoli?" Lance asked. He wasn't really in the mood for sweet things, but they were supposed to make you feel better, weren't they?

"Oh, it's way too serious for that," Joey said, and he didn't sound as though he was joking. "Lance, what happened? What went wrong? I thought, well. I thought you were kinda starry-eyed about him."

Lance laughed. "Kinda. Yes." He took a deep breath, about to embark on the story again, but Papa Fatone arrived and presented him with a dish and a fork, and Lance looked down on a crusting of melted cheese, and stuck his fork into what turned out to be the best macaroni cheese he'd eaten in his life. He felt vaguely disloyal even thinking it, because Mom made awesome macaroni cheese, but this—perfect texture, thick, creamy sauce, and some secret ingredient of Mama Fatone's devising that gave it just the tiniest kick, it was perfect. It reminded him of home, and being cuddled.

When Lance looked up, Joey was placidly eating spaghetti and meatballs.

He actually did feel better. It must be a blood sugar thing, Lance decided. He ran his finger round the dish to make sure he'd swiped every last smear of that delectable cheese sauce, and told Joey his story. It was easier this time, probably because he wasn't alcohol-fuddled and had rehearsed it carefully in his head. Joey listened intently, and made no protest, however unlikely it all seemed.

"So," Joey said. "Dragon. Huh. I guess that's why he was impossible to read." He sounded, if anything, pleased to have an explanation for the failure of his own gift. Lance decided that was reasonable.

"And I didn't know how lucky I was that he was shielding," Lance said, trying not to sound gloomy.

"That part I don't get," Joey said. "You said you get his thoughts now, and his emotions. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Never wish for what you want," Lance said, "you might get it. I don't just hear him, his thoughts are right inside my head, and when he's there I can't hear myself think. There isn't room. It's… horrible." Then, of course, he had to explain that he was a receiver. This was the part that had really worried him, but Joey was surprisingly calm about it. Of course, Joey knew that it wasn't a character flaw, having a gift, and that nobody got to choose whether they had a gift at all or what kind it might be.

Joey promised not to tell anyone, and went back to the problem of Adam. "But his shield was so strong," he said, "can't he just put it up, like, at half-strength? You'd be okay with that."

"Apparently he can't, because we're what he calls heart-mates. I don't even know how it's supposed to work. I just know that he can't shield from me, and because he's a dragon his mind is just too much to take," he shuddered, "and I—I never in my life intentionally sent a thought to anybody, but it seems he can hear what's in my head. Worse than that, I don't know if he receives all my thoughts, or only the strongest ones. He said he only gets the ones I send, but I don't know how to send them, so how can I even tell if I'm doing it? Maybe he's hearing this conversation, because it's pretty damn intense for me. Does that mean it's strong enough to send? I don't know. And I don't want to make things worse for him. He's lonely right now, he's sad, I can…Huh. I can feel it. There's a part of my mind that can feel it, even though he isn't here."

"Are you sure it isn't your own sadness you're feeling?"

"No. It's Adam. We're linked." Lance hadn't recognised it before, but it was true.

Joey was silent for a bit. Lance could feel him turning things over in his mind, but he'd never gotten detail from Joey .

"What are you going to do?"

Lance almost laughed. "What can I do? I'm going to… go on. I've been moping long enough, and it doesn't help. Nothing's going to help. I love Adam, and he's a dragon and I'm afraid of him. I want him, and I can't stand to be in the same room as him. I'm going to have to get over him, aren't I? I mean, what else can I do?"

Joey's brown eyes were full of sympathy, but he had no better solutions to offer.

Papa Fatone brought them both coffee, fragrant and strong, and a chocolate truffle for Lance.

"If food could cure what ails me, this would probably do it," Lance said, when the lingering richness of chocolate had at last faded from his tongue. Perhaps he should have tried to share that with Adam. The image of a golden dragon man gobbling his chocolate bar flashed into his head then, and his mouth tasted of ashes.

Joey hugged him as he left, and told him to come back as often as he needed.

* * *

Adam's first record was on the radio now, doing well. Lance tried at first not to listen to it, but however busy he was he couldn't stop thinking about Adam, and hearing Adam's singing did not seem to make things any worse. He couldn't help but take notice of Adam's success, climbing the charts, selling well, touring. The little piece of Adam in his mind was triumphant, excited—and still lonely, still full of the same sadness that pervaded Lance's own life. Now Lance was getting used to it being there, he found it almost comforting, and at the same time alien, intrusive, unfair.

He wanted Adam to telephone again, but repressed it fiercely in case Adam was receiving his thoughts. Whenever the yearning overcame him, he took pains to stamp it out and declare to the inside of his skull that he did not want to talk to Adam. Inevitably he did a lot of declaiming inside his head, which was tiresome and distracting, and it was really annoying not to know if it was necessary. Sometimes he tempted himself with the idea of asking Adam about it, but then he had to tell himself no, he did not want to talk to Adam, he had to move on, and the whole damn cycle of thinking and counter-thinking went round the loop again.

Adam didn't call, so maybe he got the message. And Lance wanted so much to hear his voice.


Life went on, as life tended to do. At least his friends knew the situation, and they did their best to help. He took Lisa along to Fatone's for an early evening meal so often that Joey started bringing her salads instead of lasagna; Chris and JC would meet him at the weekend and take him off to watch football matches—the crowd's emotions were simple and fervent, and it was nice to be swept along by something he actually could shut out if he wanted to—and to see tiny bands performing in bars (a couple of which he decided to recommend to some of his promoter acquaintances), and once, to a peculiar modern dance… thing with masks and feathers and performers who moved their limbs in ways he'd never seen human beings move before. Lance enjoyed that one enormously, because Chris's outraged mental commentary was probably the funniest thing he'd ever experienced.

Chris and JC had plenty to talk about to take his mind off his own troubles, which he appreciated. Chris's plans to start his own garage were on hiatus for now, as he was thoroughly enjoying his involvement with Britney and her boys. JC was diffident about discussing his art, hesitant to mention something that would remind Lance of dragon country, but Lance wasn't having that, and once he got JC well and truly started on the subject there was no stopping him. Preparations for his and Britney's show at Gallery D were well in hand, so there was quite a lot to say. Lance was proud of both of them, and proud of his own part in getting them there.

He did not see much of Britney herself. She was spending a good deal of time with Justin nowadays, which according to Chris's reports made her glow with happiness. So it came as quite a surprise when she called to invite him to spend Sunday at her place. Just a few close friends, and he could meet Justin. He didn't need to be in her presence to hear the happiness in her voice when she mentioned Justin's name. Lance envied her briefly, and told her he'd love to be there.

*Show up around midday, we'll eat and talk, and just chill,* she said. *Kevin has the boys that weekend, so it'll be quite grown-up.*

"Chris will be there, though," Lance pointed out, and she laughed.

*

Lance arrived precisely at midday, and Britney greeted him with a huge smile, particularly when he handed over the basket of flowers—white lilies and yellow roses—and the chocolates he'd brought along. He was interested to see inside her house, he'd never been there before, and it had a lot more personality than he'd been expecting. Not a professionally decorated, bland place at all, there was colour everywhere, and an array of art on the walls that included Britney's own work, several pieces by other artists, and framed crayon drawings obviously done by her kids.

"Chris and JC aren't here yet, but they won't be long. Come and meet my Justin." Her thoughts were bubbling with happiness. Lance hoped Justin Timberlake deserved it. He remembered the concert, the talented singer with the peculiar glamor and that unconscious need for adoration, and was interested to see how it all translated when he wasn't performing.

"Hi." A little bit uncomfortable, on edge, eager to please. And a lot of natural charisma. Lance found himself smiling back into very bright blue eyes, shaking the offered hand, and telling Justin that he'd enjoyed the concert. That was a good start, and settled the guy a bit. Britney explained what Lance did for a living, and that led to a promising line of conversation about the vagaries of the music business, while she excused herself to get water for her flowers. Justin's gaze followed her as she left the room, as though he couldn't quite bear not to have her right there next to him. It was entirely in tune with the feelings that Lance was receiving from him, which was good to know. Someone in Britney's position had to be careful where she bestowed her heart, but she seemed to have picked a good one—and, he supposed, Justin Timberlake had fame and fortune in his own right and didn't need to exploit a girlfriend's.

A burst of laughter from the kitchen signalled that Chris had arrived, and he erupted into the sitting room a moment later, greeting Justin casually enough to indicate that they knew each other quite well. JC followed with rather more dignity, and Justin handed round beers to all, just as Britney came back with a platter of fried shrimp and said they should help themselves. She watched eagerly as her guests took their first mouthfuls, and beamed at the ensuing compliments. "Lynn taught me how to cook them," she said. "Justin's mom. Oh, excuse me," and she was off to answer the door.

When she came back, Britney was followed by a short man whose dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Lance recognised him, of course, and after a second it all clicked into place—Howie was the gallery owner who'd be displaying their work a couple of weeks from now.

It seemed Howie and Justin had already met, and JC, obviously, but Britney presented Chris as "the guy who runs my life for me" and then introduced her new arrival to Lance with what felt like a flourish.

"Good to see you, Howie. You're looking well," Lance said, lightly.

"You, too," Howie said, but Lance could have seen the shade in his eyes even without the corroboration of Howie's dismayed thoughts. Did he really look that haggard? Maybe he should break out the concealer next time he left the house.

"You guys know each other?" Britney said. She sounded disappointed.

"We, uh, had a fling a while back," Lance explained, and was disconcerted by her mental response of Rats! I thought they'd be perfect for each other. He might have expected Britney to be matchmaking, he supposed. People in love always thought everybody in the world should be paired up, and he hadn't explained the Adam situation to her. Well, it was a kind thought, and at least he wouldn't be the only single person in the room. "I'm assuming you're the D of Gallery D? How long have you had your own gallery?" Britney fluttered back to Justin's side, and JC came over to join Lance and Howie's conversation. Lance didn't even flinch when Howie began to praise JC's current works, and agreed—quite calmly, he thought—that they were unique.


They had a hearty meal of ribs and fried chicken with corn on the cob and freshly baked rolls (JC's offering, apparently kneading dough gave him a chance to meditate), during which the atmosphere settled into comfortable friendliness. It was all very… affectionate, Lance thought. What with Britney and Justin being besotted with one another, and JC and Chris much the same only with the added spice of Chris's salacious thoughts every time he looked at his lover, Lance was feeling very much alone. He did his best to shield his head—nobody needed to know that much about JC's skill at blowjobs—but even so, the room was redolent with emotions. Particularly when Howie admitted he'd just started seeing somebody, an artist by the name of AJ, which caused JC to sit up in surprise and ask if he was talking about the AJ who produced those huge, vigorous abstract canvasses. Which apparently he was.

Still, there weren't many better cures for loneliness than good food and the company of friends. A pity Joey and Kelly couldn't be there too, but it was too much to expect that Britney had made friends with either of them. Certainly not with Kelly, he thought, realising that Britney had managed to surround herself with men. It looked as though Lisa's assessment had been spot on.

At about three, Howie stood apologetically and explained that he really had to be going. After that, Lance felt distinctly more isolated, as Britney snuggled herself into Justin's lap in the big, circular armchair and Chris and JC lolled together on one couch while Lance sat alone on the other. He considered leaving, but he wouldn't be any less lonely by himself so it seemed counter-productive, and when Britney urged Justin to fetch his guitar, he was glad he'd stayed.

It wasn't so much a private concert as a singalong. Britney was content to gaze at Justin and listen, but Lance, Chris and JC all found themselves joining in quietly as he sang—pop songs, standards from years past, and several numbers Lance recognised from the concert. There was no glamour over Justin today. He was just enjoying the music and eager to share it. Every so often he'd look at Britney and a softness would come over his face, and there was adoration in his thoughts, and Lance had to pull back into himself even more to protect himself from the feelings in the room. And why did all the songs have to be about being in love? There were so many great sad songs they could sing.

Adam sings sad songs, he thought. Adam can sing anything. If Adam were here with him, sitting next to him, he could be so happy, he could—it did not help at all, so he forced himself to pay attention to the music.

"Guys, you won't know this one," Justin said. "Baby girl, this is for you." He strummed an introduction and began to sing. "If I had a pair of wings, I'd pick you up and fly you far away from here, And you'd put your worries upon my shoulders, my dear…"

Lance felt a tightness in his chest as though a fist were gripping his heart. The simple words came at him from nowhere and pierced all his defences, and his loneliness welled up and threatened to spill out and flood down his cheeks. Wings, wings, far away from here, and Adam would want to ease Lance's burdens, and how was he to bear it all alone like this?

"… there's only one thing that would do, I'd fly away on this pair of wings with you…"

How could Justin have known, to write such lyrics? He didn't know, he couldn't know, but Lance's beloved had wings and if only, if only—he didn't want to do this alone any more. He wanted to fly away with Adam, anywhere, he wanted to be with Adam even if it killed him because living like this, this was half a life.

He couldn't take it any more. He had to get away from the song before he burst into tears. Lance stumbled out of the room and fought his way outside. The late afternoon sun was low in the sky, and he was reminded of that dragon silhouetted against the light, his first glimpse of Adam's dragon shape, though he hadn't known it.

I want him, he thought. I want him. He can fill my head up, I don't care. Adam, Adam! he called, I need you. I'm so lonely, Adam. Please, please come. He swiped at his water-filled eyes, and when his arm dropped, Adam was there and Lance walked straight into his arms and oh, it felt so right. So strong, so solid in his grasp. Lance hid his face in Adam's neck and breathed him in, and with Adam's hand petting his hair he pressed tight, as though they could be joined into one person. How many problems that would solve, Lance thought with grim humour.

Already Adam's feelings filled his head, love and loneliness and misery and surprised delight that Lance wanted him there, and it was all so familiar, exactly what Lance felt anyway only twice as much, filling his mind and leaving him no room for logic. Worry, too, that Lance was so desperate he'd called for Adam, and worry that Adam's very presence was painful. Which it was, only not so much as his absence even if Lance's head was beginning to ache. "Help me," he whispered. "I can't bear it. Take me away." Echoes of Justin's song came back to him, fly you far away from here, and when Justin finished singing Chris and JC would come outside in search of him and he didn't want that, couldn't stand their helpless, useless sympathy. He thought—or perhaps Adam thought—of the lake in the mountains. "Yes, there, take me there," he said. "Is it real?" Did you send me the images?

"Yes," Adam said. "Here, climb on my back." He eased out of Lance's embrace and turned, and Lance held onto his shoulders and Adam swelled, and Lance was rising up, impossibly up, until he was high on the back of a black dragon, high as Britney's house, and great wings swept the air on either side as they rose up and forward and through too many right angles in one go, and the house and grounds below were nowhere as the black dragon flew towards the mountains of dragon country.

Lance's mind seemed to freeze for a moment, this was so much more than his wildest dreams that he couldn't take it all in, but he breathed deep and clung to what he could reach of Adam's mighty shoulders, lying along the dragon's obsidian spine between its wingshafts so that he could feel the muscles beneath him bunch and spread as the wings smote the air. Flying. Flying! Oh, it was beautiful, glorious, up and up into the vivid blue sky and towards the mountains shining in the golden sunlight of late afternoon. For an instant, Lance remembered the golden dragon's rapture as it flew, but Adam's joy pushed the golden one out of his head, and Lance couldn't tell if he was full of Adam's joy or his own, because he was flying on a dragon, really flying, and there was no room for anything but ecstasy in his mind. Flying is wonderful, Lance thought, let's do this for ever, and Adam agreed with him, or maybe it was the other way round.

They were so very high up, the tall slopes falling away beneath Adam's mighty wings, a sharp ridge ever closer ahead. Lance was vaguely aware that his hands were cold, and he shivered. Soon, Adam assured him, we'll be there soon, just need to clear this mountain then we can descend. You can make a fire, Lance thought, and Adam breathing fire didn't frighten him as it should have done, because Adam was his, his heart's mate who would never hurt him. I love you, he thought, and Adam thought it too.

A great sweep of wings and they were up and over the high ridge between the mountain peaks, and below them Lance could see a green valley and a lake as blue as the sky, just as he'd seen it in his mind, and Adam's wings sailed out so that they glided down—Lance could sense the dragon's flight muscles, wing-bones set in perfect arcs, the necessary placement of wing-tips to steer, he participated as Adam picked the spot where he would land, and he knew each careful, instinctive adjustment as angles altered, tail braked and limbs braced.

They were down.

Then that strange deflation as the dragon turned back into the man and Lance found himself clinging to Adam's back, but only for a moment, as he slid to the ground and Adam turned to hug him close, and Lance tucked his frozen hands under Adam's T-shirt, and there was a squeak of protest but oh, that was nice and warm. How do you have clothes on? Lance asked, and Adam struggled to verbalise some very peculiar instincts and eventually gave up trying to put it into words.

"I just do," he said. "It's way more convenient to wear them than having to carry them around…" Lance?

This is new, Lance thought, because his head was perfectly his own, except that there was a part of his mind that was now fully Adam, safe and secure, and Lance knew that he could think his own thoughts and share anything he chose to share and that the terrible pressure would never come back.

Adam's wonder shone inside his mind. This is how it's supposed to be, Adam realised. I didn't know.

Lance carefully found his hands a new place to settle, and grinned at Adam's wince. "You have such a nice, warm tummy."

"Oh, way to make me feel all manly and butch!"

"I think we equalised when we were flying," Lance said, seriously. "We just—it was so wonderful, I think maybe we felt just the same so we kind of, somehow, got sorted out."

"If I'd known, I would have flown with you ages ago."

"Also," Lance admitted, "I was fighting you before, because of, well." He let Adam glimpse the flames for a moment before he snuffed the thought.

"The golden one."

"Mostly, yes, but you know, you are much more powerful than me. I was scared of you."

"I was pushing, I think. I was so desperate for you to—but you're not scared any more, are you?" Adam said, almost shyly. They sat down side by side to gaze out over the tranquil water.

"Never again," Lance said. "And we have to fly together, like, all the time, because that was amazing."

"Yeah." Essence of dragon. Best thing in the world.

"Although… how come you didn't just transit straight here?"

"Oh!" Adam said, startled. "I didn't—I didn't think of it. I always fly here. I love the view from way up above the ridge, you know? How the lake stretches into the distance, it's just…"

"It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen," Lance said.

"Plus, I guess, once I'm in dragon country, I want to fly."

"That I totally understand," Lance said, and lowered himself to lie flat on his back and stare into the still-bright sky. "I think I'm going to need flying gear. Gloves, anyway." He received an image of himself helmeted and in goggles, like an aeronaut, and giggled.

"I won't peel again for ages," Adam said, "but when I do, you can get a really cool jacket."

Lance laughed.

Adam curved over him possessively, and Lance reached his arms up to pull Adam down. There was something even better than flying, they found, now that their telepathic bond enhanced their physical senses.


"We'll have the most beautiful babies," Adam said. They were lying naked beside the lake after a brief and rather chilly dip.

"Of course we will."

"No, but we will!"

"Er…" Do you actually know how human beings work?

Adam looked at him, reprovingly. "Not as humans, obviously. But I'm sure I can lay eggs. I mean, I know how."

"Oh. My. Lord."

"But there's no hurry," Adam said, and wrapped his arms tighter. Lance, boggled, just held on and tried not to think about it. He'd probably be ready to father a clutch of scarlet dragon babies one day, but… not yet.

"I suppose," he said, reluctantly, "we ought to go back." Chris and JC will be worried about me. And they'll be so pleased to see us now that it's all right, we should give them that. They've been very good to me.

Adam stood. "We can transit straight there. It'll be quicker."

"Did you ever go back for the snowglobe? I'd like it back."

"I have it in my suitcase." It reminded me of you. "Anyway, you don't need it any more, not now. Come on."

"Actually," Lance said, "I think I'll get my clothes on first."

"Ah," said Adam. "Yes."

"And you should probably put that out before we leave." The sun was well down, and the pink in the sky was fast fading to purple, so they'd needed the warmth. The black dragon put a large foot onto their little bonfire, extinguishing it most efficiently, and then Adam was Adam again and pulling on his boots.

"Come on, then," Lance said. He took Adam's hand, looked around one last time at the valley, and thought himself back to the world he'd grown up in, and Britney's garden. Time to show off his handsome boyfriend.

With his heart's mate at his side, he would always be able to return to dragon country.

Comments

[dine]

oh, I quite like this! I was just a tad worried by Lance's trauma, that they wouldn't be able to work through things (but of course they had to, bc Happy Ending!) but throughout was charmed by Lance's circle of friends, and the way you characterized Britney works so well.

thank you!

[pensnest]

Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I don't think I've ever written Britney before, so it just goes to show, there's always something more to try.

[sperrywink]

Awww that was soooo good!! I too was worried about Lance's trauma (and was worried that it would be too much for me to handle, so sort of read it through my fingers), but it was both less and more than what I feared, and made so much sense for the story that the dragon wouldn't perceive Lance as sentient, and just as stuff.

But I really loved how Adam was first seen by Lance and how their relationship grew, and how Adam led Lance to dragon country. I didn't know the snow globe was a trigger until Adam mentioned it, I just thought it was a gift, so that was a cool element.

And I adored Chris and Britney and JC!! Having JC mentor Britney was a brilliant stroke, and Chris taking care of the kids was so excellent. I also liked the insight that Britney saw women as competition, not a help and how Chris figured into that.

But my favorite was Joey and his meal-deciding abilities, and how Fatone's fit into Lance's (and thus his friends) world. Speaking of which, I loved, loved, loved Lance's ability!! Receiving and empathy is brilliant and gave such depth to his interactions with the other characters!

So, yes, loved the story. You made my weekend. *g*

[pensnest]

Splendid! I'm delighted you enjoyed it.

The nasty stuff with the golden dragon was essentially where I started from with this story, and it was quite weird to write. Not my usual thing at all, although having figured out the dragon's thought processes did help a lot.

The guys seemed to fit together so easily, I was charmed with them - I really found out what they were up to as I wrote, because I hadn't planned them at all! And Joey's meal-deciding abilities were cribbed from a Spider Robinson story, because it seemed such a neat idea. Wouldn't it be awesome to go to a restaurant where the waiter just knew what to bring you!! I suppose Lisa has a minor version of the same gift. Having Lance as a receiver did make it easier to tell the story, because it was possible to get inside heads where POV proprieties wouldn't normally let me do that.