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“Hardison, we can’t just trust the safety of our clients to someone from the dark web called the ‘Stranger’s Friend’!” Sophie crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, that sounds seriously creepy,” Parker said. She aimed another powerful kick at the punching bag, eliciting a grunt from Eliot, who was holding it for her.
“He’s not just on the dark web. The best social workers know him, people who run domestic violence shelters have heard of him. He’s legit. I’m telling you, he’s like us. His tagline is ‘victimless crimes and noble causes only.’”
“We don’t work with people who have taglines,” Eliot growled.
“Ok, his motto, whatever.” Hardison spun around in his chair. “My point is that he is one of the good guys and he is the very best at this. We need help on this one, and this is the guy who can help us.”
“How do you know he’s even a guy if you’ve never met him?” Parker asked.
Hardison didn’t have an answer for that one.
“Look, Hardison, if you can find the human being behind the ‘Stranger’s Friend’ and set a face-to-face meeting, we will consider using him.” Sophie’s tone was definitive.
“He doesn’t do face-to-face meetings.” Hardison sighed. “Victimless crimes are still crimes and it seems like he has a cover to maintain.”
“We’re criminals too,” Sophie said. “We face as much risk as he does from exposure. I’m sure we can convince him to meet with us.”
The monitor in the van blazed to life as the camera on the drone turned on.
“Okay,” Hardison said, “we’ve got visual.”
The screen showed a spacious apartment with two men lounging together on the couch. The first had chin-length brown hair and kind brown eyes. Lying against his chest was an extremely pale man with blue eyes and messy black hair.
Sophie’s gasp came over the comms. “That can’t be.”
“What?”
“I could swear that’s Ron Golden, but that’s impossible!”
“Who’s Ron Golden?”
“He was the executive director of a theater company I was in as a teenager. But he would have to be in his eighties by now. He looks exactly the same… and just as fit. God, I had a massive crush on that man.”
Parker’s eyebrows knitted together. “Sophie, did you…”
“No. I wanted to, but he said he was too old for me. He was very kind about it.”
“Hardison, can you get audio?” Parker asked.
“Guys, this is clearly just a couple enjoying their evening. They’re not marks, and one is a potential ally. I don’t think we should be spying on them.”
“We’ve been over this, Hardison.” Eliot was staked out near the entrance to the building. “We need to make sure we can trust him with our client’s safety. There’s too much at risk here.”
Hardison sighed and turned on the audio feed.
The pale man’s eyes immediately snapped to the window.
“We’re being watched.”
The whole team gasped.
“There’s no way he could see the camera!” Hardison whispered.
The other man looked out the window as well but clearly didn’t see anything. He kissed his partner’s temple. “Really? Is this a you-problem or a me-problem?”
“These individuals are here for you. Isn’t that right, Alec Hardison?”
Hardison jumped out of his chair and started backing away from the monitor. “What the fuck? How did he - that’s impossible!”
“They can hear us now?” the brown-haired man said.
“Yes.”
“Hm. Then I suppose I should invite them in for a cup of tea. Do you want to go… home before I do that?”
“No. Eliot Spencer is a far stronger fighter than you are. Though their intentions with you are largely benign, they do not trust you, and there may be a misunderstanding. I shall remain here while you speak with them.”
“What the fuck, Hardison? Who the hell are these people?” Eliot hissed over the comms.
“I - I don’t know. I just know that one of them is the Stranger’s Friend.”
The two men were getting to their feet and the brown-haired one turned to kiss the pale one. “Being protective, love?”
“Only when you need protecting.” The pale man smiled.
The brown-haired man turned to the window. “I’m assuming you can find the door,” he called out. “Come on up. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Hob opened the door to see two women and two men on the other side. “Hello. Who are you looking for?”
“Um, the Stranger’s Friend?”
“No!” The woman with brown hair pushed to the front of the group. “You’re Ron Golden!”
Oh dear. It was an identity he had used in the 1980s, and was actually the one he was using during his failed 1989 meeting with Dream, but he had discarded it shortly thereafter. And the woman looked very familiar. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had been recognized by someone who knew him under another name. He put on the sympathetic smile he had mastered hundreds of years ago.
“Ah, you must have known my dad.”
“Your dad, my arse!” she scoffed. “I don’t know how it’s possible, you must be eighty years old, but you are the same man!”
Hob sighed and shook his head. “Really, I get that all the time. I know I’m the spitting image of him. My mom used to joke that she’d given birth to her husband!” He gave a chuckle and his most winning smile.
“You’re lying! Just like you lied about my monologue improving!” Her eyes were shining now and Hob knew exactly who she was.
“Were you in his theater troupe?” he asked, knowing the answer.
Sophie stepped forward, but the man with long hair held her back and jabbed a finger towards Dream.
“I want to know who that guy is and how he made us!”
“You may call me Morpheus,” Dream said from the corner.
“Like from The Matrix?” the first man asked.
“HRRRR HRRRR HRRRR!”
As always Hob couldn’t help but chuckle at Dream’s strange gravelly laugh.
“Yes. Like from The Matrix.”
All four of them stared at Dream, and Hob wondered if the name or the laugh or both was throwing them off. It probably wasn’t his appearance: Dream was looking relatively human tonight, if perhaps supernaturally pale.
“Look,” the man who had asked for the Stranger’s Friend shook himself first and turned back to Hob, “we just came here to meet the Stranger’s Friend. We are trying to help someone who needs to disappear. We want to make sure it’s safe to have the Stranger’s Friend create our client’s new identity.”
“But we’re not leaving without some answers!” the other man said.
Hob turned to Dream. “Am I going to regret telling them the truth?”
“You mistake me for my brother. I cannot tell you what the outcome of this meeting will be.”
Hob rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“They speak the truth. And they are confidence artists.” Dream’s eyes sparkled.
Hob turned back to his guests with a smile. “Con artists? Is that what you’re doing these days, Sophie? You’d better come in. He loves con artists.”
She stepped forward. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
“No,” he sighed. “And I’m sorry, but your monologue was always rubbish.” Hob patted her shoulder and went to get the tea.
“Okay, okay.” Parker spread her hands on the table. “You—” she pointed to Dream, “—are a non-human supernatural entity who controls dreams and also sort of is dreams and can see into everyone’s unconscious mind and also is the Sandman.”
“This is more or less accurate.”
“And your sister, who is Death, decided you needed a friend, so she made you—” she pointed at Hob, “—immortal.”
“Uh huh,” Hob said.
“And you are good at forging identities because you keep having to do it for yourself so that people don’t realize you’re immortal.”
“That’s about the shape of it.”
Hardison looked around at his partners. “So we’re agreed that we’re cool with Hob helping our client?”
There were nods all around, but Dream sat forward. “Prior to that, may I ask you for the story of the Scheherazade Job?”
While Parker, Hardison, and Eliot began regaling Dream, Hob felt Sophie watching him. He smiled at her and inclined his head towards the kitchen.
“Sounds like I should put some food out.”
In the kitchen, Sophie rested her back against the fridge.
“So back then, when you said you were too old for me…”
Hob leaned against the counter and chuckled, then closed one eye as he did the maths. “About 610 years too old. But if I recall correctly, you were 17, Sophie.”
“And you were with Morpheus?”
“Ah, no. That’s actually a much more recent development. I mean, I knew him. I’ve known him since the fourteenth century. Probably been in love with him since the eighteenth century. But in the 1980s our relationship was… more complicated.”
“Have you only dated other immortals? Are there many of them?”
Hob laughed. “There are very few other immortals in this world that I’m aware of and Morpheus is the only one I’ve been with.”
“That sounds very lonely,” she said quietly, and he knew with certainty that she understood loneliness.
“I’ve certainly had lonely decades,” he told her, “but I didn’t just wait around for him. I’ve had good friends, lovers. Been married a couple times. While 17 is too young for me, I stopped aging in my thirties, and I use that to set my parameters rather than my actual age.”
She nodded. “Did you ever have kids? I always thought of you as someone who would be a good dad.”
The old pain pierced his stomach like a lance. He held it, looked down at the floor, and smiled. “Two that I know of. One died in childbirth along with my wife. The other was killed when he was 20.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “My husband lost his son from his first marriage. It nearly destroyed him.”
Hob looked back up at her. “The fact that you said ‘nearly’ means that he’s a strong person, and a good one. It took me much more than one lifetime to be able to live with the loss.”
It was Sophie’s turn to look away. “He was a very good man.”
Was. That explained the loneliness. “I’m sorry, Sophie,” he said gently. “How long has he been gone?”
“A couple of years.” She breathed out, shook herself and looked back at him. “I’m lucky to have my crew. I’ll always miss Nate, but they’re the best family I could ask for.”
“I’m glad.” Hob reached out and squeezed her arm.
When Hob and Sophie returned to the table with snacks, Parker was giving Dream a calculating stare.
Dream turned to her. “You wish to ask me something, Parker.”
“Yeah. You’re the Sandman, right?”
Dream nodded once.
“So, you go into kids’ bedrooms and sprinkle sand in their eyes to make them fall asleep.” She was leaning forward intently.
“That folktale is one aspect of my being. But that is not truly what you wish to ask me.”
Parker’s mouth tightened as she stared at him, then she leaned further forward. “Can you walk through walls?”
The tiny smile was far more than most humans ever got. Hob realized that Dream must like her.
“My movement is not generally constrained by the physical boundaries of the waking world.”
Parker looked to Hardison and Sophie. “That’s a yes, right?”
Hob interlaced his fingers with Dream’s and kissed the back of Dream’s hand. “It’s a ‘sometimes,’ I think,” he told Parker. “It may depend on whether there are living things that dream on the other side of the wall.”
Dream shot him a glare. “Hob Gadling, do not purport to understand the arcane strictures by which I am governed. Immortal though you are, your human mind could not begin to comprehend them.”
Hob kissed his hand again. “Yeah, but I’m right.”
Dream rolled his eyes. “You are not entirely incorrect.”
“Okay.” Parker’s calculating look was back. “So, reaching into a safe is probably out, but you could, for example, walk into a locked room if there was a guard inside?”
“Hrrr, hrrr.”
“Parker!” Eliot hissed. “Tell me you are not trying to recruit the literal god of nightmares for a job!”
“HRRR HRRRR HRRRR!”
“He seemed interested in our work and he has relevant skills!” Parker hissed back.
“HRRR HRRRR HRRRR!” Dream pushed himself back from the table and stood, then took a breath to recover from his mirth. “Ah, this has been most diverting, but I must return to my realm.”
Hob got to his feet too. “I’ll be there when I’m done with this lot. Will you be working?”
“It is likely, but you may interrupt me. I will send Matthew if I am unavailable.” Dream ran his index finger over Hob’s cheek and under his chin, then drew him in for a kiss.
Hob kept the kiss chaste, aware of his guests, even if the display didn’t bother Dream. Someone who changed the weather with his mood didn’t think twice about a PDA.
“I’ll see you soon.” Hob squeezed his hand.
Dream turned back to the others. “It has been a true pleasure to meet you all, and I thank you for the story.” He turned his gaze on Parker. “As well as the invitation.”
“If you ever want to walk through walls with us or sprinkle sand in security guards’ eyes so they fall asleep, you know where to find us!” Parker paused. “You do know where to find us, right?”
“Oh yes, Parker. I know where to find you.” With that, Dream’s coat materialized on his body, and he pulled a handful of sand from his pocket. It streamed through his fingers and swirled around him, then he was gone.
Hob chuckled at his guests’ gobsmacked expressions. “Pardon my lover, he does like a dramatic exit.”
Eliot was the first to recover. “That was creepy, right? It’s not just me - the ‘I know where to find you’ thing was creepy?”
“It was awesome!” Parker said, her eyes wide. “He has magic sand that makes him disappear! How do I get that?”
“That only works for him, I’m afraid,” Hob told her. “Humans stole his tools once, and it went very badly for everyone.”
Hardison held up a hand. “Just to be clear, we have absolutely no intention of stealing anything from Morpheus. Right, Parker?”
“Obviously,” she scoffed. “But could you make disappearing sand out of like nano bots or something?”
Hob turned to Sophie as Hardison and Parker continued their nano bot conversation. “Let me get my laptop, and then you can tell me about what your client needs.”