Work Text:
Shadar was standing there. Oliver facing him. They were dead. Oliver didn't want to die. Shadar didn't want to die.
Shadar had an idea. He asked Oliver. Oliver let him. And so, Shadar did not separate their souls. While it could be done… it ached. Neither party could feel true, full emotion if their soulmate was eradicated. There was always something missing. It felt like an open wound, making the rest of the halved soul numb and frightened. It was rarely worth it. Shadar felt bad for his first soulmate. He forced them into a life of little. He couldn't bring himself to force that upon this… little boy. This child who missed his mother. He wanted to be good, again. He had to start somewhere.
He could start here.
It was a selfish start. He knew that. It helped him. It let him feel what he couldn't for so long. But he had always been selfish. At least this way he could be selfish and helpful at the same time.
And so. With his permission, Shadar settled himself into his soulmate's mind. It was strange, having thoughts that weren't his. It was strange, having a body that wasn't his. It was strange, someone having compassion for him. Helping him. He liked it.
And so they were one. They had a lot to talk about.
Oliver had some explaining to do. He had to tell them what Shadar had done, why he did it, why he allowed it. But he couldn't explain yet. Not when he had just hurt them. But he would. When they were ready to accept him. Shadar was still a villain. He was still a murderer. But he was a victim too. He deserved the chance to be good. Oliver could give him that. The rest of the world? The others he's hurt? Who had nothing he did for them? They didn't deserve to have to help him. He still deserved help. But no one was obligated to. Oliver loved helping. That's why he offered. But if he were a little more bitter, a little more sad? If he chose not to help, he would still be the hero. He would still be good.
But he remembered when no one liked him. When all the kids at school made fun of him for having no father, when there were nights he had dreams of making them hurt as much as they hurt him. And then Phil gave him a chance. And he remembered how much that meant. And how much it helped. And how he promised himself, that if he ever found someone hurting and alone like he did, he would be like Phil. And so he is.
Shadar is quiet. He doesn't talk much, until the ash falls. He shouts warnings, his voice sounding scared and weak. He doesn't speak much, aside from gentle suggestions. Oliver appreciates it. He always says Thank You. Like his mother taught him. Sometimes he gets glances from his family, and he realizes he spoke aloud. Oliver is ok with that. They won't force him to talk. Not now. Not after what they have done. Not before what they have to do. And Shadar is helping.
Oliver is scared of the White Witch. So is Shadar. But that's ok, Shadar told him, that if they were unafraid, they would be fools. That if they walked into this battle without the thought of loss, they wouldn't be watching to prevent it. Oliver didn't know that they would survive. But he knew they would win. And that was enough.
And win they did. Against the desperation of the White Witch, of the anger of her Zodiarchs. They won. And Cassiopeia looked to them, a smile on her face and an apology in her eyes. She spoke of flowers. Of sorries, of proving that she was kind. She looked to Oliver, looked into his soul and at Shadar and apologised. Shadar didn't say anything. Oliver said Thank You, like his mother taught him.
Oliver sat in his bed, in Motorville, in his own clothes, with Shadar projecting himself in front of him. They looked at each other. Neither said a word. They hadn't spoken much. Oliver broke the silence. He asked about what Shadar wanted to see, to feel. Shadar didn't know what he wanted to see, to feel. He hadn't thought about seeing, about feeling, for so long. He didn't know what there was to see, to feel. Oliver suggested a hug.
And so they hugged. After all, only Oliver could see him now. Only Oliver could feel him, his touch and his presence, right here in his arms. Shadar hugged back. He was strong. He had good hugs. Oliver wished he could have hugged others, let his good hugs be shown to the world. But Oliver was ok with having his hugs all to himself.
Oliver told his family. Drippy and Esther and Swaine. They were… they didn't like it. But they let him help. They still hugged him, still gave him the same happiness as before, jut with another benefitting. And they were ok with it. They got used to Oliver talking to himself, to him knowing things he had never learnt, to him sharing stories from a time long forgotten. It was scary. But it was still safe. Oliver would protect them. Shadar would protect them.
They experience so much together. Shadar and Oliver go high, higher, up up up on the swings, and they learn to make cookies together. Oliver and Shadar run, far, further, down down down to the forest next to Motorville at midnight and wonder what's watching from the trees. They're only a little bit scared. They know they can protect themselves.
Shadar remembers what birthdays are. He doesn't know his. He and Oliver opt to share. Shadar eats cake and shares presents. He doesn't feel lonely. Oliver is glad. Oliver doesn't feel lonely either, even though he is missing the most important part of his birthday.
Oliver and Shadar… Lucien. His name is Lucien. And he was too scared to use it before. Too scared that this all was a dream, too scared to be vulnerable because he didn't know what vulnerability was. But he wants to be vulnerable with Oliver. He feels safe enough too. He hasn't felt safe in so long.
And so. Lucien warns Oliver when he crosses the road. Oliver teaches Lucien about his world. Lucien shares about his own. Oliver shows Lucien cars. Lucien decides he wants to feel what it's like to drive one, someday.
Lucien lost everything, a long time ago. Oliver lost his mother, a short time ago. But Oliver has become Lucien's everything, now. But Lucien has become Oliver's dad, now. They know what it's like to be happy. Together.