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Nash usually succeeded in ignoring all the other Harrys’ thoughts and feelings and memories. They were compartmentalized, compressed. Cisco Ramon, though… Cisco Ramon was a problem. Nash felt drawn to him like a magnet. Like one of the other Harrys was clamoring to get to Cisco and had no problem tearing Nash apart to do it.
Certainly Nash hadn’t felt that way when he met Cisco. There was a spark, some tension, but Nash knew he was handsome and what effect he had on people. What Nash and Cisco had pre-Crisis, well, it was hardly significant. It wasn’t flirting. It wasn’t anything good. It was a working relationship peppered with conflict, mistrust, and aggravation.
Now there was a rope tethered from Nash’s heart to Cisco’s chest, and Nash had tried for days to sever that connection before finally giving in. He was an explorer, after all. A myth buster. He’d break open that little ‘soulmate’ hypothesis that had been bouncing around in his head like the flimsy falsehood it was.
The issue was: whenever Nash saw Cisco, he saw him like Harry Wells used to. An annoyance turned acquaintance, a friend turned lover. Before, Cisco laughed and Nash barely heard it. After, Cisco smiled and Nash felt like his skin was doused in kerosene while Cisco held the match.
When Cisco left for his research project, Nash didn’t pine, but Harry did. Nash tried to sleep and Harry dreamed about Cisco. Nash tried to work, only to end up reading Harry Wells’ diary and lingering over any mention of Ramon.
The time to tell Cisco was long overdue. As soon as he returned to STAR Labs, friends and family rushed him, bundling him into the love-fest that was Wally West’s welcome home party. Nash hung back, stayed away. Harry lingered on the edges with brandy in hand and heaviness in his heart.
Of course, the day Nash decided to confront Cisco, all they did was fight.
Wading through his own emotions to separate them from Harry’s gave Nash a massive headache. Overlapping voices filled his brain, echoing and distorting as if Nash had been thrown in an Earth-13 whirlpool. Words spilled out of his mouth that weren’t entirely his own. “Well, I guess on all your travels,” Nash yelled, “You finally learned to focus on someone else besides yourself-- not .”
After that, Cisco had nothing else to say.
Furious, Nash stormed out of that lab with every intention of never returning, Harry Wells’ love life be damned. But he was moving too slowly. His legs revolted against his body, halting him just outside the lab door. He leaned against the wall to listen.
From inside, Cisco whispered, “Harry.” It was a breath. A whimper. Nash wasn’t meant to hear it.
He did, though, and suddenly the heat on his skin had much less to do with anger. His feet carried him where Harry wanted--needed--to be. Where Cisco was.
Cisco leaned over a worktable, his tools discarded and his project replaced with flickering, muted hologram. He had a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table. His hair hung in his face, obscuring all but his closed eyes and furrowed brows. As soon as he heard Nash’s footsteps, he punched off the hologram.
“I’m still busy,” Cisco growled.
Nash gently ran his knuckles across Cisco’s shoulder. There was no destination in mind; he’d been compelled to touch him and acted on that instinct.
Cisco’s shirt was soft, but underneath his muscles were knotted and stiff. He whispered, “Please, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Nash continued his impulsive path down Cisco’s spine.
“Don’t touch me like you’re him. You’re not.”
“I am.”
Cisco chuckled wryly, already starting to pull away.
In Nash’s stomach, desire yawned with a wide and hungry mouth. Brushing his lips over Cisco’s ear, he murmured, “Pretend I am.”
Unsurprisingly, Cisco recoiled. He shrank into himself for a second before turning and shoving Nash, hard. Nash let the momentum carry him across the floor. He pressed his lips together, nodded, and bowed his head, wincing at the guilt stabbing him in the gut.
Right when Nash opened his mouth to apologize, Cisco kissed him.
There was nothing gentle about it; Cisco kissed ferociously, desperately, all teeth and tongue. Nash’s eyes were wide open while Cisco’s were firmly shut. His hands clung frantically to Nash’s shirt, and they remained even when Nash pulled back, cold and confused.
Cisco stared at Nash without seeing him. “Harry’s gone,” he murmured. He freed Nash’s shirt from his grip, smoothed out the wrinkles, then dropped his arms at his sides. “You’re just a pretty face.”
“But I’m not!” Nash shouted. He threw his arms up, gesticulating wildly as he tried to explain. “I--I can feel him, see him, especially whenever I’m with you. He’s trying to come back for you, Ramon.”
Cisco inhaled sharply. He rubbed his chest as if someone had punched him there, digging his knuckles in above his ribs, wincing. Finally, he asked, voice low, “What did you call me?”
Nash searched his head for the answer. The effort of picking one out was excruciating; these days, Nash and Harry’s brains were overlapping far too much for Nash’s comfort.
“What did you call me?” Cisco repeated impatiently.
“Ramon!” Nash’s eyes widened as he realized the name change.
An absurd, delirious laugh burst out of Cisco’s lungs, accompanied by an almost equally strange smile. He jumped up and down. Clapped. To anyone else, he would have looked insane. But Nash--or Harry, really--recognized that man for what he was: a genius.
“We can get him back,” Cisco exclaimed. “He’s actually in that stupid brain of yours!” He flashed another maniacal grin before his face switched from loose and thrilled to set and determined in seconds. Stepping back to Nash, he jabbed him in the forehead and finished, “And I’m gonna get him.”
...
Cisco had a few ideas--all of them terrible--and no one to work on them with. Which was why, an hour later, he was affixing the Mad 2.0 to Nash’s forehead, throwing him onto one of the lounge chairs, and telling him, “I need an expert opinion.”
The only question Nash asked was, “What’s she doing here?” He inclined his head toward Cecile, who was sitting cross-legged next to him, her own Mad 2.0 already stuck to her skin.
“I’m your way in,” she answered cheerfully.
Nash gave her a somewhat enthusiastic thumbs-up before Cisco hit the on-switch and the three of them went under.
Whatever Cisco had expected as Nash’s mindscape, an underground network of caves was entirely predictable and also completely unhelpful. “Are you for real right now?” he complained as they trekked through dirt, rocks, and sand. He knew his shoes couldn’t be ruined, knew he wouldn’t be physically fatigued from the hike, but it was still frustrating to be so close yet still so far away from his Harry.
Nash looked over at Cisco, who was brushing dirt off his knees, and snorted. Cisco sneered at him until they came to an intersection in the tunnels. They were both pitch black, one windy and one not.
“Which way?”
Shrugging, Nash leaned against a wall to peer at Cisco. “He’s your Harry. Which way would he go?”
“We’re in your mind, which is, by the way, infested with Harrys, and you don’t know where they are?”
“I don’t control them.”
Cisco shouted and threw his hands in the air, then brought them down to scrub them across his face. He was tired. He was miserable. Worst of all, he couldn’t understand why Harry didn’t just come to them. The science of the mindscape was too elusive to him, too nebulous and new.
“Hey,” Nash murmured. He squeezed Cisco’s shoulder. “Keep going.”
So, they took the windier tunnel. The first Harry they encountered was Wizard Harry--still annoying, easily avoidable. The next was Sherloque.
“I know who you are looking for,” Sherloque declared, stroking his beard as they walked. He seemed less put-out about his situation than Cisco had expected, but, then again, Sherloque had always adapted well to a good mystery. “It is midday, yes? You keep going that way for your Harry.” Sherloque sent them down a brightly lit yet narrow corridor with a knowing wink and fancy bow.
It widened farther in. Cisco’s heart was trying to bounce out of his chest; every step caused it to jam against his ribcage like a homing beacon. Cisco picked up the pace. Sprinting around a corner, he stumbled and slid.
“Dammit,” he complained, righting himself. His vision swam while his eyes adjusted to the combined dizziness and darkness. Beyond the colorful blurs, a figure emerged.
When Cisco saw Harry, really saw him, sans silver stars and fuzziness, he froze. Everything he'd planned to say vanished and all that remained was the lump in his throat, like a dam that eventually broke from the weight of his tears. He fell, sobbing, to the ground, and Harry was there in an instant.
"No, hey, don't--" Harry folded down next to Cisco before pulling him into his lap. Fingers stroked through his hair, wiped away his tears.
Having Harry's touch and warmth was nearly overwhelming; Cisco leaned into those sensations even though his heart shattered with the slightest pressure. He tried to speak, but the words came out as ragged breaths. Cisco’s chest heaved. He gulped. He cried more. He choked on the pain and the guilt because he was drowning in it, because it was too much to bear with Harry pretending it was alright.
"I'm sorry," Cisco gasped. "I'm so, so sorry."
Harry lifted Cisco's chin, frowning. "You didn't do anything."
Cisco laughed derisively. "Yeah, exactly." He tucked his head against Harry’s neck, unable to look at him. Ticking each error off his fingers, he continued, “Didn’t have my powers, didn’t save you, and didn’t know you were trapped here.”
Harry, sighing, covered Cisco’s hand with his own. He pulled them both to Cisco’s chest, resting them there, intertwining them until Cisco’s heartbeat relaxed. Then, Harry whispered, “Ramon, you gave up Vibe for a good reason, you--”
“For selfish--”
“Don’t interrupt me.” Harry jostled them, his breath warm on Cisco’s cheek. “You gave up Vibe for a good reason, you weren’t responsible for saving me, and you found me now. Here.” He kissed the back of Cisco’s head, his temple, his shoulder.
Cisco craned his neck to catch the next kiss on his lips. Their last kiss had been on Earth-2 before the Crisis, when Cisco had visited and they’d gone on a real date. He smiled, remembering how happy they’d been. That smile began to waver as he realized how temporary this solution was.
Harry ended the kiss when he felt that grimace. He spoke softly. “You can’t release me.”
Cisco sniffed. “Not yet.” He wiped his face, then rooted around in his pockets for his notes. “I have some ideas, though.”
Grinning, Harry stood and pulled Cisco up with him. “Let’s get to work, then.”
They left Nash in the main tunnel, encouraging him to meet the others. Harry led Cisco down another dirt corridor, another left, another right, until Cisco lost track of all the many twists and turns. Eventually, they came to a metal door.
“That’s… different,” Cisco said.
“It’s my spot,” Harry replied, laughter behind his words. “What, you thought we all lived in dirty caves?”
“Point taken.”
Inside was an amalgamation of two labs: STAR’s and Harry’s Earth-2 workspace. The room radiated brilliant, unnatural shades of yellow and blue and filled to the brim with various unfinished machines. Harry swept his arms, presenting them to Cisco.
Cisco gaped. “You’ve been busy.”
“Not much else to do here. I tried to share this information with Nash, but he’s, y’know.”
“An idiot.”
“Exactly.”
Time passed, although how much was anyone’s guess. Cisco didn’t know how physics worked in the mindscape, and he didn’t really bother finding out. He and Harry settled into their old rhythm, running tests and bickering and apologizing with chaste kisses over scribbled diagrams. If Cisco didn’t look at the floor--covered in sand and sediment, definitely not up to STAR Labs’ health code standards--he could pretend nothing had changed.
The problem with illusions was that they were meant to shatter.
Nash interrupted with a knock on the door and an apologetic sound. Cisco and Harry both whirled, markers in hand, ready to attack. Nash’s hands shot up in surrender.
“Gentleman.” He cleared his throat. “I hate to cut this short, but I think our host has tapped out.”
As if on cue, a mini earthquake erupted throughout the room. A crack split the floor, instruments clattered in their cases, and Harry held Cisco tight to keep him from falling. Nash pointed upwards to the ceiling as it also cracked; instead of earth showing in the gap, it was a glowing blue light.
Chest tight, Cisco turned in Harry’s arms. “I’m gonna figure this out,” he promised. “I love you.”
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “I know.”
“Star Trek,” Nash interrupted. “Nice.”
For that, Nash got a marker to the knee. Nash cursed, crossed his arms, and tapped the clock on his wrist cuff. Harry nodded at his doppelganger. Cisco inhaled deeply, trying to relax his kick-drum heartbeat as he came to terms with this inevitable separation.
“See you soon,” Harry said.
And then Cisco was opening his eyes in the lounge. Cecile was the first person he saw; she was nodding, her mascara smeared at the edges of her eyes. Cecile sat Cisco up, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. “There you go, sweetheart,” she crooned.
The most selfish part of Cisco wanted to tell Cecile to put him back in those caves. It was wrong, and unfair, and he wanted it more than anything. Cisco groaned, berating himself for those thoughts.
“Nuh-uh,” Cecile interjected. She was using her mom voice. “None of that. Of course you want to go back, and of course I’ll help you. I just need a break.”
Both of their phones buzzed, flashing big, red letters onto their screens. Cisco checked his; besides the alert, he had four missed calls and two times as many texts. Turtle Two had attacked during Cisco’s absence, obviously, because it was too easy for the universe to let him have just one major project at a time.
Two projects, it seemed, were also child’s play. Over the next week, Cisco juggled minor meta threats, the Speed Foce’s death, freaking Eobard Thawne, and more, all while comparing calendars with a super-busy metahuman attorney. Cecile had even less time than Cisco did. And Nash, although he didn’t always say it, was drained by the visits.
Cisco didn’t blame him. Even Harry looked a little ragged within the mindscape. Both he and Cisco were barely sleeping while they struggled to find a feasible form of escape.
Barry’s Iris emergency, then, was a tipping point. It was the middle of the afternoon when Barry told them. Cisco was on his third cup of coffee, avoiding his own bruised under eyes in the reflective desktop monitor, when he found out Team Flash was being played.
“That’s just great,” Cisco groused. “So great!” He kicked the rolling chair across the room. It spun out of control and collapsed onto its side, and Cisco kind of wanted to throw himself down there with it.
“We have to break into McCulloch Tech,“ Barry told the group. Cisco rubbed at his temples as Allegra, Nash, and Cecile launched into their plan. Copying that chair became more appealing with each word.
Absentmindedly, Cisco brought up McCulloch’s security information on his monitors. He scrolled through it for Barry’s sake, but his mind was miles away, grasping onto some kernel of information about the mirrorverse that had burrowed into his brain. Something that could help, something that could--
“Earth to Cisco.” Nash leaned into his space. “Let’s take a trip to Nashville.”
Barry’s mouth merged with his chin. “What the hell do you need in Tennessee?”
Chuckling, Nash answered, “No, no, it’s what Ramon calls my.” He finished the sentence by knocking twice against his skull.
“You’re visiting Harry? He’s alive-alive? Can he help us?” The questions came rapid-fire. Barry’s eyebrows raised as he gaped at Cisco and Nash.
Cisco glared at Nash, sighed, then looked at Barry. “Yes, ish, we don’t have time. Besides, I think I know how we can access the mirrorverse.” Cisco gestured them all to examine his many computer screens. “Unfortunately, Vibe would have been great for this.” He filed that small shame away for later. “I think, though, that we can use the mirror gun to warp any reflective surface. It essentially vibrates our dimension’s objects and people into its dimension, so if we point it at a mirror, or, more accurately, a doorway--”
“--we could make those molecules unstable enough to go through. Cisco, you’re a genius!” Barry leaped, punching the air before jabbing at Cisco’s shoulder
“In theory,” Cisco corrected, batting his friend away. “We should probably test it.”
Nash lifted the mirror gun from the table. “Like you said, no time.” He clipped it to his utility belt and was on the move before the team had even finished processing.
Cisco watched him leave until he realized everyone else was looking at him. “Uuuuh.” He took in his teammates, connecting all the pieces until he knew what they needed to do. Downloading the security schematics onto his phone, he rushed to join Nash, shouting directions as he flailed into his jacket. “Cecile, on comms; Barry, suit up. Someone has to get Joe! And the car!”
Allegra swerved down the hallway, keys already in her fist as she called, “What about you?”
“I’m going to grab Nash before he does something stupid!”
Cisco was glad he had such foresight, because he caught Nash with one of those flash grenade teleporters raised high. Rolling his eyes, Cisco seized Nash’s wrist and wrenched the little machine from his grip.
“You’ve been around long enough to know the drill. We do this as a team. Driving. Come on, Indy.” Cisco elbowed Nash’s ribs.
Nash twisted out of Cisco’s reach before surging forward to grab his chin and kiss him. Both their eyes flew open in surprise, and they were separating in the next fraction of a second.
“Dude!” Cisco yelled, wiping his mouth.
“Sorry!” Nash’s face was bright red. He ran to the elevator, banging on buttons with the heel of his hand. “That wasn’t me!”
Cisco followed, scowling. “It better not have been!”
The elevator ride down was excruciatingly awkward. Nash and Cisco stood as far away from each other as was physically possible. When the automated doors opened, they bumped into each other trying to get out. Cisco felt like he was choking. Nash looked like he was choking.
The afternoon air was crisp on Cisco’s flaming hot face. He breathed in, relieved, only to have to cram himself back into a van with Barry, Allegra, Nash, and all of Nash’s weapons. The Pulse Rifle reminded Cisco too much of Harry, which brought back the too-fresh memory of that weird kiss, and Cisco was so distracted that he almost forgot to relay the plan to his teammates.
Despite Barry’s appearance, the idea was to use little to none of the remaining Speed Force energy. Cisco remotely hacked the alarm as well as the silent alarm--tricky tech companies--, leaving two options: a sneaky B-and-E, or a full frontal assault. Thankfully, the others agreed any large scale attack should be delayed until they knew the real villain behind it all and had Frost and Ralph to assist.
Allegra parked in the cameras’ blindspot. Pulling up the floor map on his phone, Cisco pointed at the digital lines, then at their counterparts on the building, explaining what would need to happen on each level.
The plan was executed perfectly. Cisco kept waiting for the twist, like another secret assassin, but none came. He stood in Dr. McCulloch’s office with a bubble of relief expelling the weight in his chest, and watched Barry press his hands to the giant glass mirror. Everything on his face, the hope and yearning and fear, it was so familiar. Cisco cast his gaze about to look at literally anything else.
“Move,” Nash ordered.
Barry and Cisco both jumped to the side as Nash took aim and fired. The shot sank into the mirror as if it was liquid, and Cisco held his breath as the surface rippled. It stayed shimmery. Cisco whooped victoriously, then patted Barry’s back, urging him to step through.
Nash, however, had other plans. He handed Barry the mirror gun and said, “If I don’t make it back, tell Allegra… tell her I wish we had more time.”
He stepped toward the mirror before they could argue.
Cisco watched, horrified, as Nash bounced off the surface like he’d been hit by a car. His body flew across the office and slammed against a desk. Papers, mugs, pens, and a chair crashed, obscuring all of him in a massive, painful pile. Cisco rushed to uncover him.
“Hey, Cisco,” Barry cautioned.
“Barry, I get it, alright? It didn’t work.”
“No, Cisco--”
“I’m thinking!” Cisco barked, a little aggravated with his friend. “Can I please just help Na…” He trailed off as he removed the bulk of the pile and found the person underneath.
It wasn’t Nash.
In one hand, Cisco was holding a piece of a broken mug. In the other, he was holding the shoulder of Harry Wells.
Cisco blinked. He tore his eyes away to look at Barry, to ask him if he was also seeing this. Barry, though, was busy hugging the very real, very original Iris West. Nash stood with them, grinning about his achievement.
“Only have eyes for him now, huh?” Harry teased.
Cisco whipped his head around so fast he tweaked his neck. He was making a noise that lived between a sob and a cackle, and he was being loud and obnoxious about it, but it didn’t matter. He threw himself onto Harry and they tumbled back into the desk junk. Harry only grumbled mildly when Cisco’s knee struck his chest.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Cisco, Harry, Barry, and Iris all glared at Nash. He laughed a little, then screwed his features into something more serious. “Escape now, catch up later,” he suggested.
From his amazing vantage point on the floor, Cisco checked the clock. They’d overstayed their welcome; the guard shift would soon change, and all the camera angles and rotation duties Cisco had memorized would be useless. He and Harry disentangled, then stood.
And then they were all running, Cisco and Nash navigating, Iris telling Barry about the mirrorverse, Harry postulating reasons why he was the only Wells to separate from Nash’s consciousness. He and Cisco bounced theories around as they wound down a concrete staircase. At the bottom, Nash slammed open a fire exit that led outside. Allegra had the car waiting and the engine running.
She’d driven the team halfway to STAR Labs before she met Cisco’s eyes in the rearview mirror and asked, “How many of him are there?”
Cisco intertwined his fingers with Harry’s, threw back his head, and laughed and laughed until his stomach hurt.
The lounge ended up so full of people that they might as well have called it another welcome home party. Nash and Allegra had a hushed, heartfelt conversation on the balcony. Joe left WITSEC to come see his daughter in person. Cecile brought Caitlin to visit--and run tests on--Harry. Before any of that could happen, though, Caitlin made a few stiff drinks to serve to the ragged crew.
Iris hadn’t left Barry’s side. She curled up to him on the couch, explaining to her father how the Chief of police and her photographer, Kamilla, were still stuck inside the mirrorverse. That was a threat and a fight for tomorrow. Groaning, Cisco plopped down on a barstool next to Harry to toast him.
“Many happy returns.”
Harry grunted into a chuckle. “Yeah,” he agreed.
They sipped their drinks while they stared at one another. Cisco felt like they were in their own little bubble. He kept finding reasons to touch him; a brush of their wrists here, their thighs pressed together there. Harry tucked Cisco’s hair behind his ear. Cisco readjusted Harry’s glasses.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Cisco breathed.
Harry traced the rim of his glass, considering. He was studying that whiskey as if it had all the answers. Finally, he replied, “I want to know why. How. All of it.”
Cisco knocked their knees together. “You’ve been the most present in Nash’s head, right?” Harry nodded, so Cisco pursued that train of thought, warmed by his whiskey and his confidence. “Iris’ clone separated from her while also keeping a mind and body. The mirrorverse couldn’t handle two incompatible personalities fighting for control in Nash, so it expelled one of them.”
“Just me, though. Sherloque was on this, well, Earth-1, more recently than I was. He talked to Nash, too.”
Shrugging, Cisco argued, “None of the other Harrys fought as hard to be separate. You resisted Nash’s, ah, dominance, I guess? Or the Crisis’ big Wells override? ‘Cause Nash had something that you wanted-slash-valued more.”
“You.”
Cisco poked Harry’s nose. “Exactly.”
Harry’s nose scrunched up and he knocked Cisco’s hand away. “If you want-slash-value that finger, don’t do that again.”
“Mmhmm. I love you, too.”
Cisco kissed him quickly, delicately. Harry deepened it a little until Cisco shook his head a little and pulled back. Harry’s eyes were bright and more than a little hungry, and Cisco was thinking of how best to make their excuses and get out of there when Nash tapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry stood to face him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed suspiciously, the same way he’d greeted HR years ago. Cisco snorted into his drink.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” As olive branches went, Nash’s was a stereotypical yet safe choice.
Harry finished his whiskey in one gulp. Setting the glass down, he led Nash away from the bar. Away from anyone, actually. Cisco stared quizzically after the strange pair until it clicked, but by then, it was too late.
“That--” Harry lined up and punched Nash square in the jaw, “is for kissing my boyfriend. And this--” He extended his hand, which Nash accepted only a little trepidatiously, and pulled his doppelganger in for a hug. “This is for saving me.”
There were a few scattered gasps that gave way to an “awww” from Cecile and a pouty “C’mon, guys,” from Barry.
Harry begrudgingly accepted Nash’s arm as it was thrown around his shoulder. They steered themselves back to Cisco, who had poured three fresh whiskeys and was eyeing them with wary amusement. “You good now?”
“Fine,” Harry answered quickly. He took a swig just as fast.
“Right,” Cisco countered, lingering on the vowels. “Well, babe, that’s good, because Nash could mess you up.”
“He could not.”
“Could too,” Nash interrupted happily. He held the cold glass against his jaw, his lips quirking into a smile. “So, Harry, you get a new body, a hot boyfriend, and a second life, and I get the rest of these jackasses rattling around my head, minus one?”
“Ah, sounds about right, yeah.”
“Alright,” Nash replied. And that was that.
Everyone drifted out in waves. The West-Allens went together. Nash took Allegra for some late-night Jitters. Frost had come out and got Caitlin too tipsy to run her tests, so she was the last to leave, trying to schedule an exam with Harry right up until they closed her Uber door.
Cisco waved at the car as it drove off, his arm wrapped around Harry’s waist and his head resting on his shoulder. “Whatdoyouwannadonow?” he asked, the slurred words more yawn than question.
Harry chuckled. He pressed his lips to Cisco’s temple, then inhaled. His grip tightened on Cisco’s shoulders, and Cisco had a feeling they’d be glued at the hip for a while. So, Cisco took him to bed. They kissed sleepily, touched lazily, and Harry fell asleep before their clothes even came off.
Cisco watched Harry’s chest rise and fall until he was fully, finally convinced he was here to stay. Then, he held him in his arms, closed his eyes, and slept.