Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

everything from which

my doubts are woven

thinly

While still half asleep they hear arguing. Which is weird, because no one’s timetables lined up well enough to argue in the morning. And yet someone was arguing right beside their bed. Two male voices. Even weirder – the voices sounded familiar, but definitely didn’t belong to any of the other inhabitants of the apartment.

“At least go eat something, you’ve been sitting here for too long!”

“And you have already been here almost all day yesterday, aren’t you going to harm your career?”

“I can do paperwork here just fine, and you need a break!”

Weird thing number three – these guys are arguing in English. They clear their throat, deciding not to pay attention to a weird feeling around their vocal cords.

“What’s going on?” they decide to match the tone of the conversation, opening their eyes and being surprised at how hoarse they sound.

The voices immediately stop. They start looking around the room, which’s clearly not theirs, until they stop their gaze on the two people who were presumably the ones arguing before – and they are staring right back. These two are looking vaguely familiar, but they’ve definitely never seen them before. Thoughts start rushing through their mind each more unpleasant than the previous one; the word “kidnapping” seems to be prevailing in most of them.

“Oh s-sorry, freelancer, we didn’t mean to wake you up! I mean we kinda did but not like,” one the of the guys – tall, long blond curly hair pulled into a loose ponytail, big eyes of a startled deer are hiding behind round glasses – stammers fast.

‘Freelancer? That can’t be!’

“How do you feel?” the other one – much shorter, brown skinned, with a strong jaw and also wearing glasses, but more minimalistic rectangular ones - cuts the first off, “We should text the others, and call the doctor,” that’s addressed to the first one again.

“Don’t answer a question with a question, you’re not in Odessa,” ‘bad time for jokes’ “What’s going on?” they are trying not to show their nervousness.

“Hey,” he stops moving and puts his hands up, trying to show he poses no threat, “you’re okay, we’re okay, freelancer, everything’s okay, we’re here with you,” he tries to look into their eyes, reading their expression.

“Where exactly is here and who exactly are we?” ‘Strike the iron while you’re at the pay desk – ask the questions while they’re answering them.’

“Here is the hospital,” the shorter guy explains patiently, “And we…”

“Don’t you remember?” the first one returns to the conversation, after texting something on his phone and telling the nurse in the corridor outside the door to bring the doctor.

“Not really,” they shrug apologetically. ‘Or at least I don’t want to give you information you don’t already have.’

“Well,” the dark-haired young man clears his throat as the guys exchange a glance, “I’m Damien, that’s Lasko,” he waves at the blond, “and we’re your partners.”

They swallow, while their eyes are running between the two. ‘That’s a low blow.’

“There are also others,” Damien’s speech is interrupted by a rift opening ‘Why do I know what that is?’ and the third man appearing from it. His height is perfectly between the first two, his dark curls fall around his face in an artistic disarray and his nose would make any roman statue green with envy. He doesn’t waste any time on talking - immediately taking a step forward, leaning in and kissing them before anyone can protest. His lips are soft and they can’t help but move in sync with him. It feels natural for a fleeting moment, before he pulls away and they take a shaky breath.

“So, by that logic, you must be Gavin,” they’re trying to gain their composure back, which is not helped by the fact that the version ‘Insanity’ just skyrocketed in their list of potential explanations – kidnapping or not, people don’t appear out of thin air.

“What?” “Didn’t you say you don’t remember?” “What do you mean ‘that logic’?” all three of them say simultaneously.

“To answer all these questions, I don’t exactly remember this, but I have a pretty good idea, of who you are. There’s just one problem – you’re not real,” they’re met with three pairs of widening eyes – two dark brown and one light hazel.

“Care to… elaborate?” Damien, who seems to be the most collected, asks in return.

“Fictional characters - not real people. You don’t exist outside of the media,” they’re trying to explain as well as they can.

“Okay,” Gavin takes the initiative, “how about you tell us what you do remember. Who are you, where do you live and so on? If we’re not real that couldn’t hurt, right?” he sends them a small smile and the left corner of their mouth twitches to return it.

“Riiight,” they slowly agree. They can’t do much if it’s all a hallucination anyway. “Can I ask just one question before that?” they say, suddenly shy.

“Of course, you can ask anything,” Gavin continues reassuring them.

“Is Huxley also,” they make a vague gesture, as if uncertain how to better describe the current state of reality.

“He’s at practice now. I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he sees the message,” now it’s Lasko’s turn to softly smile. ‘Damn, it’s just unfair, they’re all so lovely. And so real.’

“Okay,” they take a deep breath and proceed to tell their name, age, place of residence and education, family relationships and so on, deliberately avoiding mentioning anything directly connected to the people in front of them. ‘Hell, that sounds like a character exposition in some badly written superhero movie. Next thing, I’m going to declare my motivation.’

Their listeners ‘Irony, you merciless bitch’ exchange glances again.

“All of what you’ve just said is true, just some things in past tense,” Damien takes the rains, “You live in Dhalia now,”

“And study at D.A.M.N., right?” they interrupt him, deciding to change the tactics.

“Yeah, about that,” Gavin picks up again, “what do you know from that ‘media’” he stresses the last word, “we’re all supposedly from?”

“How much detail do you want?” they raise their right eyebrow.

“Just the basics for now,” ‘How kind of you, I was preparing to give a lecture.’

“Well, you’re an incubus and when we met the first time, you were getting your dick sucked at a Seven/Eleven,” they declare and bite back a smile, as Lasko’s cheeks immediately turn pink. ‘So, some things are just as we imagined.’ They place their other partners, then stumble mentioning Caelum, but Gavin nods and they continue. “And I’m a humanborn freelancer, at least I’m supposed to be, but I don’t think I am since I don’t’ feel any di-” and stop mid-word realising it’s a lie, they do feel different. A warm feeling in their chest is stronger than usual, it’s more localised and somehow feels more active, more fluid, more foreign. They focus on it, while the three men watch, puzzled. ‘Like warming up an engine on a truck, huh,’ the feeling is getting stronger, slowly spreading but they stop it. And then it hits them – they can feel something similar and yet completely different coming off Gavin, who’s still the closest to them. They raise their eyes to him in complete disbelief, losing the control and letting their core ‘Core?’ return to its natural state.

“Did you just feel my aura?” Gavin finally asks quietly, holding their gaze.

“I guess I did,” the freelancer mumbles. ‘Too creative for madness, isn’t it? Let’s work with reality given to us in sensation then.’

“Did it feel real?” the demon specifies carefully.

“Yes. Yes, it did,” they sound more confident, “Trying to prove that anything outside of your own mind is real is an old philosophical paradox, so let’s just assume it is, for the sake of saving time” they stop and blink fast, “Wait, did I say that out loud?”

“I think they’re pretty alright,” Damien smirks, addressing Gavin and Lasko, as they let out a slightly nervous laugh in response and the freelancer permits themselves a jokingly offended chuckle.

“What day and year is it, by way?” they decide to bring the conversation back to the situation at hand.

“The seventh of June, two thousand twenty second year of the common era,” Damien answers dutifully.

“And how long exactly have I been here?” the freelancer asks, as a sticky suspicion creeps up their spine, “Actually, why am I even here?”

“For about two weeks, I think,” Lasko says.

“Thirteen days,” Gavin is uncharacteristically precise.

“You were at a consultation before your last exam when… well, there’s no better way to put – a building collapsed – the roof fell through several floors – and you were hit in the head,” Damien explains and it sounds like the topic of the suddenly collapsing building has been discussed over and over in the past thirteen days until it lost any meaning at all.

“I don’t feel like I’ve been here for two weeks,” they mentally run though their body, “and nothing hurts.”

“You were in a stasis of sorts, I think,” Lasko hesitates.

“When the doctor finally comes, he’ll probably explain better” the fire elemental grumbles and exactly then the door opens, but it’s not the doctor.

“Hey, guys,” the fourth guy comes in – he looks even a little taller than Lasko, he has broad shoulders and truly calf lips, drops of water are running from under his dreadlocks – seems like he didn’t dry off properly after a shower.

“Hello, Huxley” the freelancer says with a questioning intonation, “Prefacing the questions, in theory I know who you are, just as well as everyone else in this room, but I don’t remember much and I might get some things wrong.”

“Oh,” Hux stops beside their bed, “Do you still want a hug?” he asks more as a courtesy, but suddenly they agree.

“I would love it, actually,” they spread their arms a little awkwardly to wrap them around his neck when he comes closer, he very gently wraps one arm around their shoulders in return. He feels warm, all-enveloping and somehow smells oddly-familiar.

“How do you feel?” the earth elemental asks, pulling away.

“Surprisingly good for someone who apparently was in a coma because of a head injury,” they chuckle sarcastically.

“You’re early, was everything okay at practice?” Damien notes, always aware of everyone’s schedules.

“Yeah, Xavier let me go, after I read the message during the break.”

“Freelancer, hey, what’s wrong?” Lasko sounds very worried and there’s clearly something to be worried about – they look mortified, staring into space, clearly thinking very hard about something.

“Xavier? Did you say ‘Xavier’?” they move the gaze of their wide-open eyes back to Huxley.

“Yeah, dude, he’s our captain, why?” he explains confusedly.

“And it’s June of twenty-twenty-two?” the freelancer addresses everyone.

“Yes,” Damien confirms, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m probably going to sound crazy. Crazier than before,” they correct themselves, “but I need to ask a few questions.” They take a few breaths, looking around the room again. “Are Elemental and Energetic Games a thing?”

“Yeah, and they happened at D.A.M.N. this year,” Lasko answers, as confused as everyone else.

“And what happened at the closing ceremony?” the freelancer dreads the answer, feeling cold, heavy fear pooling in the pit of their stomach.

“Nothing aside from the ceremony itself,” Gavin answers hesitantly.

“Kody tried getting mouthy and handsy after it though,” the fire elemental reminds everyone, “but we have… duly explained to him that such behaviour will not be tolerated,” it’s clearly a pleasant memory.

“And since Lasko has befriended that wonderful little werewolf,” Gavin teases, delighting and Lasko’s ears starting to get red, “the security was fully on our side.”

“So, no one got in trouble,” Huxley concludes positively.

“And that’s all?” the freelancer still can’t believe what they’re hearing.

“And that’s all,” their partners answer in badly timed unison.

“What do you remember happening?” Lasko inquires quietly.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” they swallow audibly, “Let’s just say it was very bad and I’m more than glad it didn’t happen.”

“It’s okay, buddy” the earth elemental reassures them, “but you can tell us, if you want.”

The freelancer casts him a small smile and nods and here finally comes the doctor.

“Took you lo-” Lasko gently tugs Damien’s sleeve and he swallows the rest of the phrase.

The doctor swiftly examines the freelancer and confirms that aside from some general fatigue and that odd form of memory loss they are perfectly fine.

“I would suggest contacting the dreamwalker who was here last week and a memory modifier. Unfortunately, the one the stuff one is on vacation now,” he says before leaving without anymore explanations.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll find someone. Thanks for the advice,” Gavin says half-sarcastically.

“A dreamwalker?” the freelancer raises an eyebrow, once they’re alone with their partners again.

“Yeah, when they said you might be in it for a long time, we were trying to find a solution and were lucky enough that one very talented dreamwalker was in the town at the time – a funny guy, honestly, very eager to help,” the incubus explains, “came here on the first call, even though he was on a vacation with his partner here, entered your coma dream, tried calling for you. It didn’t really work at the time, but hey, maybe it did help after all,” he tilts his head and smirks.

“But the doctor was right, we should call Elliott to see if he’s still here,” Damien reaches for his phone.

“Elliott?” the freelancer frowns again, “A dreamwalker? In town with his partner? For a vacation?” their voice is falling more and more with each question.

“Yes, why? Do you remember something about him too?” Lasko asks, while Damein is already calling.

“Something, yeah,” they fumble with the bed cover, “Let’s see if he answers the phone.” ‘But it’s June? Damn the messed-up timeline!’

“Elliott? Hi! This is Damien, yeah, you’ve tried to help my partner in coma a week or so ago. Are you still in Dhalia? Great, no pressure, but we would really appreciate it if you could visit us again – they’ve awoken, but have some memory trouble. It would be easier to explain in person, yeah,” the whole time the conversation happens, the freelancer’s stare almost literally burns holes in Damien, “You can come? Wonderful, thank you, we’ll be waiting.”

“He’ll be here in the evening,” the fire elemental announces, finally catching on with the freelancer’s reaction, “Something wrong?”

“So, is he okay?” they ask cryptically.

“It seemed so.”

“We’re talking about the same Elliott, right? Studied in a dreamwalker school, not D.A.M.N., has a specialisation in mind protection, calls his partner sunshine?”

“Yes,” Damien confirms again, “Do you know him?”

“You can say so, I guess,” the freelancer sighs looking somewhere above Damien’s head, “I’m just glad he’s alright too.”

“Sure,” the fire elemental still doesn’t seem convinced, “Gavin, you said you know some good memory specialist, it’s time to call him.”

“Already on it, firecracker,” the incubus huffs through his nose, now it’s time for him to be on the phone. “Cam? Guess who. Yes, I know you have my number, but I just had to. No, don’t worry, I’m not calling you as a department employee, nothing concerning the law. I am calling you as the best memory modifier I know. No, nothing with covert, I swear! My charge… My partner has been in a coma for a bit and now has woken up with quite, let’s say, unclear memories, so I thought you might look into it. I know the department has you by the… neck, but maybe you can find some time- Free day today? Can rift here in half an hour? Amazing, can’t wait. Bye,” he puts the phone away satisfied, “The best memory modifier in this city, if not the whole country will be here, in thirty minutes. You’re welcome,” he bows his head jokingly.

“So, you know not only Crux, but Camelopardalis too?” the freelancer asks, shaking all ardour off Gavin.

“Yeah, how do you know him though?” he tilts his head again, now confused.

“I just kind of do…” they shrug and look up apologetically, “I’m sorry it’s difficult to explain, it just seems so strange altogether now and I’m not sure what I remember and what I just imagine, and I,” they drop their head on their hands.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gavin’s tone and the expression of his eyes immediately soften, “You don’t have to explain anything.”

“We’re here with you,” Huxley joins in.

“And we will be as long as you want us, no matter what you know or remember,” Damien reassures.

“Because we love you and care for you,” Lasko concludes, gently putting his hand on their shoulder.

The freelancer relaxes. ‘This is probably the best thing to wake up from a coma to.’

Chapter Text

who am I

and why do flounder

the thoughts

Half an hour before Cam’s arrival is spent in pretty relaxed banter and the freelancer finding out that some things never change. One of those things is apparently their phone and their music library on it. They scroll through their photo gallery, while their partners huddle around the bed, trying to look over their shoulder.

“So, this is the E&E closing, I’m assuming,” they look at the picture of Huxley and Damien wearing their medals, Huxley’s arm is wrapped around Damien’s shoulders and he’s trying his best to look displeased by it.

“Aha,” Lasko confirms, “if you want anything else you should scroll faster – there’re a lot of these,” he chuckles lightly.

The freelancer follows his advice and soon comes to something they recognize again, “And this is Friendsgiving!” they raise their gaze from the screen to the guys.

“It is,” Gavin smiles at them fondly, “It was wonderful, and your idea by the way.”

“As usual,” Damien joins in.

“Hey, dude!” Huxley goes to defend the freelancer.

“What? I was serious!” the fire elemental falls victim to his own usual sarcasm.

“Sure,” the freelancer wants to say something else but then someone knocks on the door. Cam’s habits are much more civilised than Gavin’s – he not only doesn’t’ rift in the middle of the room, he even politely asks if can come in.

Camelopardalis is distinctly inhuman and it’s not clear what’s playing a bigger role in it – his gargantuan height, his horns or the aquamarine undertones of his skin and hair. He sends everyone a slightly distant smile.

“Punctual as ever,” Gavin grins in return.

“Of course, my friend,” Cam nods, “Good day, to all of you, and you’re the freelancer, I presume,” he looks straight at them.

“I think I am,” they answer and it sounds like everything between a joke and a genuine concern.

“Would you prefer some privacy, while we try to figure out your memory issue?”

“I…” the freelancer hesitates, “Yeah, probably, I wouldn’t want to make anyone worry,” they smile half-apologetically at their partners.

The elementals look at Gavin as if asking him if it’s okay to leave, he gets up and they follow him.

“Call if you need anything,” and with that Camelopardalis and the freelancer are left alone.

“Mind if I sit?”

They make an inviting gesture and the daemon sits at the foot of their bed.

“Can you explain what and how you remember or rather not remember in a little more detail?” his voice stays calm and soothing.

The freelancer repeats the story they’ve already told their partners – about everything being fiction.

“That’s an interesting case, I’ve never heard of anything like this, maybe I’ll be able to tell more if I see for myself. Only if you let me, of course,” Cam looks a little confused.

“Sure,” ‘Isn’t it what Gavin called you for?’ “Can I ask you just one question before that?”

“Ask away, I’ll answer what I can,” the daemon keeps his eyes on them.

“How’s Regulus?” the freelancer takes a shot in the dark and hits the target.

“How do you know him from?” it’s the first time Cam’s face significantly changes to express surprise. They don’t say anything, just raising an eyebrow to show that the answer is obvious.

“Oh, yeah,” Camelopardalis gets the memo, “He’s doing much better, his obsessive tendencies are almost gone, he’s still very protective of his charge though. They’re doing better too with his help – he’s so happy about it.”

“So, they’re together? He’s not contained in the department?” Now it’s the freelancer’s turn to be surprised.

“Why would he be at the department?” Cam’s dark eyes widen, “I’m friends with his steward – they’re great with empathy daemons with attachment issues, Regulus is going to be a very good daemon in time,” he smiles fondly again and the freelancer mirrors his expression.

“When you see him or his steward, please tell them that he helped me so much through some hard times. At least my memories are telling me that.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to know that,” Cam’s smile widens a bit.

“Okay,” the freelancer takes a deep breath, “Let’s see what’s wrong with my memory.”

“It won’t hurt, I promise,” the daemon puts his big hand with long elegant fingers right in front of their face and they feel something gentle but definitely foreign prodding their mind, pictures start flashing in their vision and they suddenly start feeling sleepy.

“It’s okay, relax, you’ll wake up when it’s over,” Camelopardalis says in his lulling voice.

When they open their eyes again, he’s looking at them with a strange expression.

“I take it you didn’t like what you saw?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Cam stumbles.

“Were the parts about you true?” the freelancer makes a guess.

“Yeah,” he lowers his eyes, as if ashamed of his own discomfort.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to make you watch all of that again, even if from a different perspective,” they reach out to take his hand, slowly enough to give him time to move away. He doesn’t.

“It’s okay,” he smiles again even if it’s weak this time, “The good parts are also true, after all.” They sit in silence for a little while.

“So, about your memories,” Cam clears his throat, “I cannot return memories that aren’t there, I’m sorry. If you’d want to forget any of that, I’m at your service.”

“Thanks, I’d rather keep it, if not because it’s all I have, than to appreciate how good everything is in reality.” ‘Or at least seems to be for now.’

“Well, Gavin has my number, in case you change your mind,” the daemon shrugs, still looking a little guilty.

“I think I can call them back in,” the freelancer half-asks and Cam nods.

When their partners come in, Damien is the first to ask:

“Did it work?” to which the freelancer scrunches their nose and shakes their head.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to live with it,” they turn to the daemon again, “Thank you, Cam, anyway, it was nice seeing you.”

Gavin offers to walk him out and they leave for a few minutes. While they are out the elementals try to comfort the freelancer and the freelancer tries to persuade them, they don’t need comforting. When Gavin comes back to such a familiar picture, he suggests that everyone needs to eat and is met with a four-voice protest.

When the elementals are forced to leave to finally have their late lunch/early supper, Gavin stays with the freelancer and feeds them as well ‘Literally feeds, get your head out of the gutter’.

“I want to see if your tastes are still as I remember.”

“Well, I like you very much, so they can’t be that different,” they tease, as he conjures a tray of food on top of their hospital blanket. The food is good, as well as the feeling of Gavin’s palm resting on their knee. Trying to inquire if he himself is hungry, leaves them with a vague mention of Huxely having a free morning today, from which they deduct that no, Gavin is not indeed hungry.

When the rest of the polycule comes back the freelancer hesitantly offers:

“Since Elliott won't be here for a few more hours, maybe we’ll do some more fact checking? I can talk separately with each of you, so as not to… disclose anything that was private before.”

Their partners agree and decide to go in the order of meeting.

…

“And then you told me your birth name.”

“You told me yours a few days after.”

…

“Did I cry when we discussed our families?”

“We both did.”

…

“You know I actually still like mini-golf.”

“I hope this time you can really play it.”

…

“And then we held hands on the trail.”

“Like this?”

“Like this.”

…

When they all gather in the freelancer’s room again they’re a little shaken by all the reminiscing, but mostly in a good way.

“While we still have a bit of time, can I take a wild guess?” the freelancer starts talking.

“Sure,” Gavin is settling on the side of their bed again.

“Gavin, do you know Avior?”

“Do you not?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Well, not in that quality,” they say with an uncertain intonation, “When did you see him the last time?”

“About a week before your accident. And you’ve seen him too, by the way, we had a double date,” Gavin says, uncertain of why Avior came up all of a sudden.

“Have you heard from him since?” the freelancer continues their inquisition.

“Well, we texted a few times. Why?” the incubus is getting more and more confused alongside the elementals, who are observing the scene.

“Can you call him now, please? I just need to hear him.”

“Sure. Avi? Am I interrupting something? So, you have a minute? Great. Yeah, so the freelancer has awoken and their memories aren’t that great at the moment and they want to talk to you. They’re worried, I’ll just let them explain themselves,” he passes the phone to the freelancer.

“Avior? Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon freelancer, good to hear from you again.”

“Can I ask you something? Full disclosure: it’s going to sound weird and like something I shouldn’t be aware of.”

“I’m already intrigued, go on.”

“Are you feeding off a dreamwalker, who’s obsessed with a cult?”

“No… Not at the moment at least, there was one a few years ago, but I left him when I got bored with his constant hatred.”

“Can you tell me a bit more about him? Anything weird? Any details that you still think about?”

“Actually yes. Firstly, I have visited him fairly recently and was surprised to find out that his academy friend has pulled him out of the cult. Secondly, I met my Starlight right after leaving that guy. I literally bumped into them.”

“Thank you, you’ve put my mind to a rest. Tell your partner, I said hi. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” they give the phone back to Gavin, “He’s not stuck in hell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chuckles, “the closest he probably was to it, was that double date I mentioned.” They raise an eyebrow, “Because you and his partner have persuaded us to go to a Dante inferno themed escape room. He was furious the whole time.”

The freelancer lets out a nervous laugh, ‘Well, how interestingly my brains work, apparently.’

The elementals, who kept watching the scene with growing bewilderment, decide to interfere.

“Hey,” Damien shuffles a little closer to the freelancer, “You don’t have to tell us anything but we’re glad, that things are better than you remember them being.”

“Believe me, I am also very glad,” they let out a more relaxed smile.

About five minutes after the agreed upon time, they hear another knock on the door and a round-faced man in a headband peaks through,

“Sorry, I’m a little late, they were refusing to let me in,” he grins, not seeming too displeased with it.

“It’s okay, come in,” the earth elemental waves to the incomer.

“Would you like us to leave again?” Gavin addresses the freelancer.

“I don’t think we’re going to find out anything we didn’t already with Cam, so you can stay if you want,” they shrug with one shoulder, “Good evening, Elliott,” they turn to the man who is settling down on a chair beside the bed.

“Evening, congratulations on waking up!” he says cheerfully.

“Thank you. At this point I’m honestly not sure what you can do, since the memory modifier was here already and couldn’t fix anything,” the freelancer spread their hands helplessly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his demeanour falters, “I can tell what I saw in your dream if you want, or just answer some questions.”

“That would be nice. Actually,” they squint almost mischievously, “Did you accidentally call me sunshine while calling for me?”

“Yeah, I might have, sorry,” Elliott rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, it was sweet,” the freelancer reassures them.

“So, did you actually hear it after all?” his curiosity takes over.

“You were saying something about the screen in front of me being not real, right?”

“Yes, I did, actually,” he sounds surprised.

“Then I heard it, several times in fact. It affected me quite a lot,” they admit, biting the inside of their check. “May I ask you something not about my dream?”

“Sure,” Elliott draws the vowel, a little confused.

“Why are you in the city?” the freelancer asks in a suddenly strict voice.

“On a vacation with my partner,” he answers carefully.

“And that’s all?”

“And that’s all,” the dreamwalker is surprised by a sudden interrogation.

“Okay,” they pause, seemingly satisfied with the answer, “Say hi to Brachium, then.” They expect a reaction if not an overreaction, but Elliott just gives them a long look and, after they hold his gaze, says:

“Sure,” he rises from his chair, “I think I’ll go, you’re right, I can’t do much that a memory specialist couldn’t. Good luck in your recovery and good night,” he sends them a wave and another smile, which they return.

“Who’s Brachium?” Damien asks, when the dreamwalker leaves.

“He knows,” the freelancer answers evasively, while Gavin gives them an odd look. He might know more than they think he does.

Later in the evening, the doctor says that if everything is okay in the morning, the boys are free to take the freelancer home.

“Do we all live together?” they ask in happy surprise.

“Yeah, big house, personal rooms, a big one for… common activities,” Gavin answers in a smirk and a quirked up eyebrow.

“What? Like in 2012 Avengers fanfiction?” the freelancer lets out a half-chuckle half-scoff.

“You’ve already joked like this!” Lasko exclaims.

“At least twice, in fact,” Damien notices dryly.

“Well, I don’t remember it, so it doesn’t count!” they laugh, baring both rows of teeth and happily squinting.

Gavin stays with them for the night.