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Hob wasn’t sure why Dream had come to visit him, just as he finished putting flowers on Audrey’s grave. He was pretty sure his wish for revenge had turned Dream off, but he couldn’t help it, could he? At least he didn’t actually cut people’s ears off and make them eat them, anymore. Besides, he was also pretty sure that Dream was in some kind of trouble. He had that smell to him, the smell of looming death. He didn’t like hearing that either.
But they’d been growing closer this last six months since Dream showed up at the New Inn, 33 years late. Dream had told him some things. It had sounded like things were getting better. Tools found, realm repaired, Dream Vortex handled. Today, though, he just looked so. Tired.
Hob had seen that look on people before. Plague victims who weren’t going to make it through the night. Fellow mercenaries who were going to let themselves get killed in the next battle. Old friends, dying of a long final illness. Former lovers with AIDS, facing their last days.
Dream had only let him touch him once or twice before, a pat on his shoulder, or a tap on his hand. But today. Well. Hob wasn’t going to let him go like that. He grabbed Dream by the shoulder.
“I worry. You take care of yourself.”
“Thank you, Hob. I shall.” But Dream leaned into his touch as he said it, and Hob couldn’t help himself. He put his arms around Dream. If anyone had ever needed a hug, Dream certainly did right now. Hob only hoped he would be willing to admit it.
When Dream sagged and curled his nose into Hob’s neck, Hob’s heart leaped. Dream was going to let him take care of him! He held the hug, sinking into it, until Dream started to shift.
“Want to come upstairs, love? I have a comfy blanket on my couch, we could cuddle there for a bit longer?”
“I have. Duties. And responsibilities.”
“And they’ve been weighing heavily on you for a long time. You could rest a little.”
“So long.” He sounded so desperately tired.
“Come. Come upstairs and I’ll make you some tea and you can tell me about whatever can be told. You’ll be better able to handle it all, once you’ve had a chance to rest.”
“I. I don’t think there’s anything that can be done. At this point. But. I would welcome the respite.”
Which is how Hob finds himself on his sofa, leaning against the arm and holding Dream between his legs and in his arms, a comfy crocheted afghan thrown over them and cups of tea on an end table within arm’s reach.
And Dream relaxes. And relaxes some more. Hob’s not sure if he’s about to fall asleep. And then he starts to talk.
It is a very tangled mess he has woven around himself. Lyta, Nuala, Orpheus, the Fates, Daniel. Hob tugs at lines here and there, asking questions to see if there’s anything that could be changed. Dream remains peaceful in his arms, as he fatalistically repeats that there is no other possible ending anymore.
“But at least I’ve had this, Hob. I’ve found more peace, here in your arms, than for the last three millennia.”
“There must be a way, though. Don’t you want to find a way? Dream, I never thought I would have to bury you!”
“I’m sorry, Hob.”
“Come on, Dream! Find a way to live, so we can do this again!”
“Really? You would want to do this again?”
“Of course! I’m your friend, Dream. I want to be with you, to take care of you. I just never thought you’d let me.” Hob squeezed Dream in his arms as hard as he dared. Dream had come to say goodbye, he was right. Surely there had to be a way… if only Dream would want to find it.
“Perhaps. Hob. I don’t think I can stop the events that have been set in motion. Daniel will be Dream next, and the Fates must have their blood, eventually. But. I don’t know what comes after, for the Endless. When my sister comes. Maybe. I could ask her if I can come here? To be with you?” And he ducked his head, as if in shame for asking, or fear that Hob would reject him, and that could not stand. Hob curled around him, putting his cheek against his ear, breathing in the otherworldly scent of his wild hair.
“Of course, love. You’ll always be welcome here. But are you sure there isn’t anything more I could help with? Anything else we could do? I hate to think of you going through all that.”
Dream collapsed limply back onto him again.
“No, Hob. You have done so much. You have given me something to look forward to.”