Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Brett Hand had been fighting off his ‘stress wolf’ for a few weeks. With Reagan still coping with being the new head of Cognito, grieving the loss of her ex-boyfriend’s memory, and whatever The Robes were having her do, he wasn’t really paying attention and didn’t understand the parts he did tune in for, there was no way he was gonna let anyone, especially her, find out just how stressed and drained he’d been feeling. He’d begun a sort of ritual as a result of his burnout, as some sick way of coping with it and avoiding his primary mechanism of dealing with anything bad (besides puppets and that TV show from a different decade than him). Periodically during the day, he’d go to the bathroom and pep-talk himself, not without checking every stall to ensure no one was there, per the ‘Andre-Friendship Virus’ Incident. He would NOT risk his high-ass friend catching him on the verge of a mental breakdown... again. Subsequently, every evening, when everyone except Reagan and a scattering of try-hard interns had left, he’d close all the blinds, curl up under his desk, and cry until he couldn’t anymore, pass out for a few hours, then finally head home after the office had officially cleared out of anyone. But if you ever learn anything from working for the shadow government something will always change.

He’d lost track of how long ago he’d started crying. Brett hadn’t even realized he’d thrown up and thrown off his vomit-stained blazer for who knows how long. All he really knew was he could not take this anymore. His mind was going fuzzy and he couldn’t think straight. The yes-man stumbled through the halls on his way to Reagan’s lab, unsure of how he even ended up there. Brett didn’t want to, every part of his being was shunning him for going to her friend in her time of need, but he was so sad and tired, and he felt so nauseated with anxiety that he couldn’t stop himself. He needed Reagan. He needed his BFF. He knew his adult mindset was slipping away by the second, his mind moments from a childlike headspace. That terrified him more than anything, the one thing he kept to himself. His family, his frat bros, his best friend, not even his puppet knew about it (can puppets know things?). Even so, he found himself swaying outside of the doors to Reagan’s lab. Hopefully, AB wasn’t there, Brett was not in the mood for some robo-asshole nonsense. At this point, Brett was barely in the mood to be alive. Before he had the chance to knock, the doors opened up as Reagan was on her way out. Dropping her, now cold, coffee in surprise, making them both flinch. There was a beat of pure silence before anyone said anything, Brett trembling in place as Reagan scanned the visual in front of her.

“Brett..?” She hesitated to speak again, unsure if all these late nights working had fucked with her brain, “uhhhh-” she sucked in air through her teeth, “are you.. Okay?”

All Brett managed to do in response was shake his head no before tears began flowing again. He, almost slowly, collapsed onto the floor and gradually began sobbing hysterically. Reagan took an uncertain step back, what was she supposed to do in this situation? Brett cried A LOT, but this somehow felt significantly different from his usual teary moments. Maybe it was his position, how horrifically unwell he looked, or just how generally rigorous his wailing was; but this was a much more fragile situation emotionally than anything they’d faced together. She carefully lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged beside the heaving heap of her best friend, gently laying a hand on his back as her best effort at being comforting.

“I don’t… uhm, know what’s going on- or really what I could do to help, but I hope you know I’m uh-” She swallowed uncertainly, “I’m here for ya bud, and I’ll be here for you, no matter what. ”

Brett glanced up at her with puffy, glossed-over eyes, “You mean it?” he sniffled, “no matter what?”

Reagan nodded, “Yeah, BFFs right? Business Friends Forever,” She lifted her hand for a fist bump, which Brett returned hesitantly.

Sporting a smile for the first time that night, Brett carefully sat himself up. Bringing his legs to his chest he took a shaky breath and looked around the room, avoiding eye contact.

“Things have been kinda- really- super duper stressful lately and I just-” he was cut off by a lump developing in his throat, “I haven’t really been okay but I didn’t wanna tell you because you have so much to deal with already with The Robes, and Ron and just everything!”

Reagan gently patted his shoulder as Brett curled in and started crying again, “Jeez, yeah uhm… that’s uh- rough, buddy! Sorry, I’m really bad at this”

“It’s okay” Brett affirms between sniffles, “Just you being here and being okay with- me is enough”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be okay with you?”

The color drained from the buff twink’s face, “Well uh- because uhm,” a deep breath in, a deep breath out before he goes on to confess the truth, “I’m not feeling very… grown up right now and honestly? I just wanna curl up in a blanket and watch kids' cartoons with stuffed animals until I pass out!”

Reagan nodded absent-mindedly, losing herself in her mind as she worked out how best to go about the situation. After a moment or so, she stood and reached her arm forward to help Brett stand as well. Hesitantly, he took it and followed her lead. She carefully led him to her car, helping him buckle up before getting in the car herself, and beginning the drive to her apartment.

The ride was mostly silent, Reagan wanted to give her human golden retriever a chance to calm down and stop feeling so overstimulated before she tried to conversate with him much, unless, of course, he initiated the conversation. He stayed silent though, so she did too, not wanting to push him by accident. It wasn’t until they were almost at their first that she figured she should debrief him.

“Okay so- I don’t think you’re really in a good place to be left alone, no offense, so I’m taking you back to my house, but first I’m gonna stop and get us some microwave dinners. Kid Cuisine sound good, bud?” she all but confirmed in her head what was going on, having the family she did meant you dabbled in a lot of coping mechanisms, whether they stuck or not.

She had only done a quick glance over age regression but she got the general gist of it. She only hoped she was cut out to take care of Brett when he was so delicate. Her relationship with her father left her to believe she’d never be a good mother or any kind of guardian, but Brett was trusting her with this so she’d give it her best shot.

With a hesitant nod of confirmation from her passenger, she pulled into the parking lot of the cheapest local grocery store, “Okay! I’m gonna go get our dinners, you just sit here and keep trying to stay calm, alright?”

“Mhm”

“Great! Be right back,” she ruffled his hair affectionately before getting out of the car, making sure the heat was on and her phone’s ringtone was too.

It didn’t take long to get everything she’d wanted to get, it was, after all, just two microwave dinners and a handful of surprises for Brett; she’d been a bit worried she’d be unable to find what she wanted to get for him. However, the mission was successful! She climbed back into the car, checked on the half-asleep man-child beside her, and finally brought them both home. She helped Brett up the stairs and into the house, handing him a blue sweater with a dinosaur sewn in the middle and a matching pair of shorts to change into while she went to heat their food. She carefully set up the TV dinner tables, laid out the blanket and set down the dinosaur stuffed animal she’d bought, turned out the lights, and booted up some 80’s cartoons for when Brett came back down, some rainbow bears shit she was thoroughly confused by (it’s carebears, I fucking love carebears).

By the time he did come back down, after an amount of struggle he refused to talk about, the food was done and set out on the tables. Reagan gently guided him to the couch, draping the blanket over his lap and handing him the plush, which he cried the last tears he had left over and clutched to his chest. Brett sighed, laid back, and allowed himself to get sucked into the TV show, finally feeling fully relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. The brainiac next to him let him enjoy himself for the time being, the food was still too hot to eat and it wasn’t going anywhere regardless. Besides, Brett earned this. He’d been clearly working his ass off for these missions since the first moment Reagan let him take full charge of the team, he needed a break just as much as she did, and he’d already forced her to take several. It was only fair for her to return the favor.

After multiple episodes, and Reagan nearly finishing her meal, she’d decided it was about time to speak up, “Hey, Brett? Why don’t you eat, bud, I think you need it.”

Brett whined in response, “Do I have to? I don’t really want to.”

Reagan frowned deeply, this was unlike him, “Yeah? You need to at least get something down. Common, Baby Brett, at least take a little bite of everything.”

The regressor’s lip began to tremble, more tears forming in his eyes, when he spoke his voice came out warbled, barely above a whisper, “Rea, I don’t think I can…”

Reagan sucked in a breath, a way of getting a moment to think, before she responded, “Do you- want some help?”

Brett nodded pathetically, and Reagan gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Holding a spoon full of mac and cheese steadily up to his lips, she finally got Brett to actually eat something. It was a slow process, but it worked nonetheless. He refused any of the brownie mush, it always ended up more like pudding somehow, but she wasn’t gonna force him to eat more than what he thought he could handle, especially if it was the least healthy item of the bunch. Reagan took what small portions he’d eaten to be a success and began cleaning up the dinner mess while Brett laid on his side and curled into a ball on the couch, dino stuffie tightly held in his arms. She wasn’t sure why we went with the whole dinosaur theme for him (the author isn’t either, just felt right ig) but he seemed to like the items so she chose bit worry about it much.

It didn’t take long to clean up the dinner mess, considering most of it was disposable anyway. By the time Reagan had disposed of and removed everything food-and-dining-related from the living room, Brett was half asleep, hardly even watching the cartoon anymore. She sighed softly at the sight, something about this just felt- right. It felt good to watch over him, to make sure he was okay. She settled down in the spot beside baby Brett and allowed herself to relax into the worn plush of the couch cushions. Brett took it as an opportunity to rest his head on her thigh, wiggling a bit to get comfortable, and finally dozing off for the night. It caught the scientist off-guard and startled her briefly, but she felt no urge to punch him or deny this physical affection. She rested her hand on his head, gently fluffing his hair between her coarse fingers, rough from years of intensive, science-driven labor, and decided ‘This is okay.’ She’d let him get his rest, make no move to wake him or end this lovely moment, just let this moment be for a little while. Enjoy this joyous comfort while it lasts, in their field of work it’s imperative to cherish every little moment.

She gave it about an hour before she every so delicately shook Brett’s shoulder, “Common, let’s get you tucked in for bed, okay?” she gently pushed his now ruffled hair out of his face, “I’ll take the couch tonight, you can have my bed”

Brett shot up at the sound of that, “Wait, no Reagan, please! I don’t wanna go to sleep alone…”

Reagan swallowed uncomfortably, “Oh, bud, I don’t- I don’t know, are you sure uh- big? You would be okay with that?”

Brett frowned deeply, a pain in his chest growing stronger by the moment, his eyes beginning to burn as they glossed over and fresh tears began to pile on his water line, “Please, Reagan, I really don’t wanna go to sleep alone, I don’t-” he choked on a lump in his throat briefly, before continuing in a hushed voice, “I really want snuggles…”

Reagan sighed, “Fine,” she relented, “Common, let’s go get settled in then”

She carefully led him up the stairs and into her bedroom, pulling back the blankets and allowing him to climb in first. The mentally older woman tucked the boy in snuggly before climbing in herself on the other side. It felt a bit awkward at first, especially when Brett rolled over and clung onto her, Dino plush tightly clutched in his other arm, but eventually, she relaxed. And it felt nice. This was a nice moment. Not so soon after she decided this was all okay, she drifted off to sleep right along with Brett.

This whole experience was something Reagan had never expected, something Brett never wanted to even play a chance at happening, but it was an experience they both now shared nonetheless, and they were closer for it. It wasn’t so bad either. It was nice even. They both found that despite the rocky start, they wanted to do it again sometime.

Chapter Text

It’d been a couple of weeks since the ‘Reagan found out about Brett’s Regression’ incident and they both were avoiding bringing it up again, despite how desperately they wanted to. Unbeknownst to the other, both parties of the unforeseen experience wanted something like it to happen again. Reagan was stuck on how much she genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together, not in a romantic or intimate way but in a platonic almost, but not quite, parental way. It filled her with a strange sense of belonging and warmth to see how much joy she brought to Brett in that moment; how safe, comfortable, and relaxed he felt simply due to her presence, it was a wonderful thing to witness. Brett, on the other hand, was battling himself over how badly he wanted to experience her love and care again and his fear of making her dislike him. There was a small voice in the back of his head, with a similar cadence to his therapist, assuring him that it was illogical to expect Reagan to begin disliking him over something she’s shown nothing but acceptance and support for in spite of her difficulty with emotions of any kind. Their coworkers could practically see the awkward tension radiating between them, but all their guesses as to what was going on were intimacy-related, Myc going as far as to make a crude joke that will go unmentioned (definitely not because the author is not confident in their ability to be funny, no no, it’s entirely because this is an agere fic and we wanna keep it kinda pg *Insert Brett’s Unhinged Laughter*).

Regardless, they had jobs to do. Between working on the algorithm to make better decisions than the morons they surrounded themselves with, Reagan still needed to lead the team on cover-up missions to ensure they had a world to make decisions for. Connecting Alpha-Beta to the computer screen, she got everyone’s attention and began debriefing.

“Okay so, you guys handled all the time anomalies last month, keeping everything intact, but we still need to find and eliminate possible slip-throughs that could cause people to find out what happened,” she began, matter-of-factly.

AB continued in her stead, “There’s been talk in low-level internet forums regarding these time anomalies, but they’re gaining traction fast. The main problem with it is they’ve disconnected these instances from the Mandela Effect and are on the verge of finding out what really happened”

The Robotus rolled himself out of the way for Reagan, allowing her to take ‘center stage’ and give out demands, “This is going to be a full-scale cover-up. Gigi, we need you to get in there and erase those forums from any sort of archive. Glenn and Andre, I want you two to find and uh- I’m trying to find a better word than kidnap, is there a nice word for kidnap?” she glanced from face to face for hope of an answer.

The entire group paused to think, mumbling about uncertainties regarding a solution before Brett opened his mouth, “I thought we were trying to be more ethical? Kidnapping feels-” he sucked in air through his teeth, “Really- not… Ethical. That sounds really bad.”

Gigi and Andre nodded their heads in slight agreeance as Myc slammed a tentacle on the table, “Oh, shut the fuck up, you literally kidnapped a dog last month!”

“I did not! He willingly got in the car, I was saving him from you monsters,” Brett shouted back, emphasizing it with a pout.

Glenn then decided to butt in with more of his violent patriotic nonsense, “Who cares! You lot are such babies now, it should be considered an honor to get kidnapped for the good of your country.” He folded his arms and nodded his head, much like a grandpa making an estranged point about gay people or outdated politics.

“Fucking hell, all of you shut the fuck up. Gigi, internet wipe. Glenn, Andre, Myc, capture and mind erasure. Brett, you-” she paused for a moment, pursing her lips uncomfortably, “you come with me.” She annunciated it by pointing to him followed by herself.

Brett nodded uncertainly, having an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what this was they were about to discuss. He followed her shyly out the door and down the hall to her new office while the gang began packing up for their own duties. Reagan opened up her office and allowed Brett to walk in first before gingerly closing it up behind her and sitting down in the swivel chair behind the desk. She spun around a few times on accident before turning to face Brett, finding him trembling slightly in place while fidgeting with his hands. They made eye contact briefly and Reagan raised a brow at him.

Brett choked a little, “Reagan, can I throw up in your trashcan-?”

Reagan looked taken aback, “What? Why- Why would you have to ask permission for that?? And why do you nee-” She was cut off by him running to, and promptly retching into, her trashcan, “Ohhhh-kay- uhm-”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m a little nervous-” Reagan gave him a look, “I uh- think I know what this is about” 

She nodded softly, “Yeah- so…” She pursed her lips again, holding her hands together against her chin as she thought over her next words, “About what happened the other week-”

“Reagan, I am so sorry about all of that, I promise it won’t happen again”

“No, no! I was going to ask- if you wanted to do it again sometime…” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“What?”

“I uhm, knew a bit about regression before that night but I uh- did some more research on it cause I- enjoyed… that night with you. I don’t expect to insert myself as you’re uh..” She tripped over the word briefly before snapping her fingers in realization, “Caregiver! But I wouldn’t mind taking care of you again from time to time… I wanted to see if- you wanted to uhm- explore that, while everyone else is on their mission for today.”

Brett was silent for a while, feeling unsure of the situation. On one hand, he really did like the sound of that and was thoroughly relieved Reagan assuredly did not hate him. On the other hand, what if after spending time with him when neither of them was sleep-deprived and getting to see him in full baby-man-mode action made her change her mind, not just on the regression stuff but on being friends with him? There was only one real way to find out though.

There was a large pit in Brett’s stomach that was making him regret his decision to see this through. His anxiety was through the roof, and, despite all her attempts, Reagan’s attempts at relaxing him were futile. Even with his favorite song playing, even with her actively handing him that dino plush again, even with all her awkward and uncertain reassurances, he was still feeling very uneasy. Reagan in her own mind was freaking out as well, what if she pushed his boundaries? What if she overstepped? Was he actually okay with this or just going along with it because he didn’t want to disappoint her? What if he actually didn’t want this? However, all her worries were put to rest when Brett brought that silly little dinosaur stuffed animal up to his face and buried his head in it, every part of him relaxing upon completing that small action. She had nothing to worry about, he was feeling just as anxious and unsure as he was, but they were best friends. There was nothing they couldn’t handle together.

Reagan’s car pulled into her driveway and the woman herself turned to Brett with a hesitant but bright smile strewn about her cheeks. However, that smile was quick to falter as she noticed the man-child was actually delving into a panic attack, tears forming and breaths shaky. They both remained silent, both internally panicking in their own ways. Reagan was desperately trying to figure out what the problem was and Brett desperately hoping she wouldn’t hate him when she did. It didn’t take long to find the problem, as soon a certain scent hit her nose and she noticed the wet spot on Brett’s pants. Evidently that heavy feeling in Brett’s stomach was not just nerves. Nonetheless, they could handle this.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay” Reagan eventually managed to sputter out, “It’ll be okay, it’s just an accident, I’m not mad at you.”

Brett looked into her eyes, darting them around slightly as if trying to find any little hint that she might be lying. Eventually, he found none and choked out between gasps, “You aren’t?”

“No, no, no, don’t worry! I’ll get someone to clean this up later,” she paused briefly to open the driver-side door, “Common, let’s go get you cleaned up and changed, yeah? I washed those pajamas you wore last time, all clean and ready for you.”

Brett nodded his head in compliance, and carefully opened his own door. Waddling behind Reagan uncomfortably, rubbing at his sniffling nose all the way. She led him into the house and up the stairs, once again, to the bathroom. She gently nudged him down onto the toilet seat and went to retrieve his pajamas. She was mentally preparing herself for a just-in-case scenario where she’d have to help him bathe and change if he so requested it. Coming back into the small linoleum room, she the PJs down with a few towels, wiped away some stray tears from Brett’s cheek, and started up a nice bubble bath for him.

“Brett, bud?” She started, uncomfortably

“Hmm?”

“Are you uh-” she cleared her throat, “are you gonna need any help…?”

Brett shook his head no and Reagan quietly sighed in relief. It’s not that she hadn’t seen him naked, in fact she was no stranger to naked men despite the overwhelmingly smaller amount of them she’d actually had any relations with, but it was still awkward to help your best friend for the past, what, few years? Rinse the piss of his tighs. Nonetheless, she gave a supportive pat on the head, tussling his hair as he so desperately always desires, and gingerly closed the bathroom door behind her. 

This is where it was her time to really shine, setting up a happy little moment for them both to share. She’d ordered a few more childish items after the previous incident; she was fully prepared to throw them all away had Brett chosen to say no but since he hadn’t, she began setting up her living room for a pleasant indoor, toddler time, picnic. She laid a blanket on the floor, folding up the one she’d previously bought for him and setting it to the side for him to grab at any moment’s notice, and finally scattered a collection of toys for a range of ages around the blanket. We’re talking blocks, toy cars, koosh balls (which they apparently still sell, I know, I checked to see if I could get one because throwing it at your face looked really fun), more stuffed animals, wooden Montessori toys (seriously they are the cutest most fun pretend play stuff you will ever find, LOOK INTO THEM), and even a few pacifiers, chew rings, and various kinds of cup ware she decided to set on the kitchen counter for the time being. The scientist then went on to prep apple and orange slices and thaw out an uncrustable, putting a few goldfish crackers and baby puffs onto the plate as well before setting it down on a TV dinner stand she’d stood behind picnic stuff. Just as she finished prepping every, Brett came toddling down the stairs half-dressed. 

His shorts were on backward and he’d somehow managed to get tangled in the sweater instead of getting it on, “Reagan, help!” he cried out

She chuckled softly, standing up from her spot on the floor and beginning to remove both the shorts and the shirt, “Okay, stick this leg in here. Good, now that leg in this one, there ya go, good job!” 

She smiled up at him, feeling genuinely proud of both him and herself. She actually was doing pretty good; her confidence was gradually increasing by the second, not enough to be dangerous but just enough to stop worrying about the next thing to go wrong. She ruffled his hair one more time before lifting the sweater back up, “Okay, this one will be a bit trickier, but I think we got it!’

Brett nodded in agreement, not really feeling as confident but trusting in his friend's understanding of the situation, “Mhm!”

“Attaboy, Brett,” Reagan said with a wink, leaving him to giggle, “and there we… go! All good, bud!” She patted his back gently after straightening out the bottom hem of the sweater over his shorts.

He beamed up at her, genuinely pleased with how things had turned around. Brett had almost forgotten about the accident from earlier and found himself engrossed in the moment he found himself in. He’d never felt so at home and loved before, and that feeling only grew tenfold when he spotted the living room’s setup; a few tears of joy slipped down his cheeks as his mouth hung open in shock. Reagan chuckled breathlessly, rubbing the tears away, as she carefully guided him to the picnic blanket, helping him sit on the ground with her and allowing him to take the lead on what they do.

Once the shock had worn off of him, he’d excitedly grabbed at the blocks and began setting up some sort of structure; Reagan wasn’t sure what but he was happy and that was enough. After a moment or so of silently watching the scene in front of her play out, the scientist stood and headed to the kitchen to prepare a drink for him. She turned back briefly to observe him, he had now adorned himself with one of the pacifiers, which made her decision easier. She grabbed one of the sippy cups and rinsed it out before filling it up with milk and closing it up tightly (Brett seems like a ‘drinking just straight-up milk all the time’ kid. I should know, I was one and my childhood best friend was too). She set it gently down beside him, making an extreme effort to not distract him from his playtime; she had worked too damn hard to get him to this point she was not about to ruin for a sippy cup of milk. Regardless of her attempts, his attention was grabbed and took immediate notice of the item being placed beside me. He gingerly grabbed it, a blush dusting his cheeks in slight embarrassment.

“Thank you, Reagan,” He mumbled out, just before taking a sip and continuing to build his nonspecific structure of colorful blocks.

The woman in question smiled softly, sure, she hadn’t been able to get the cup down without adverting his attention, but it ended up in a sweet moment anyway. Sure, things were consistently having a rocky start for the time being, but it always led to something amazing, and in any case Reagan and Brett both were sure things would get easier the more they did this.

As Reagan sat cross-legged beside Brett, joining in on his little game of driving the toy cars over his now-completed block build, they both felt a slight reassurance in their minds and hearts. No matter what happens, they’ll be there for each other. This would happen again, and when it did? It would be a little bit easier, a little less awkward, and a little more comfortable. 

There was nothing that would stop Reagan from being there for Brett, she was sure of it 

Chapter Text

Deep in the middle of the desolate fields of the ‘great’ US of A, a scruffy man was digging deep into files he had no business sneaking through. Swiping through information on Reagan Ridley, and occasionally Brett Hand, someone he must’ve known very well at some point in his life. It wouldn’t make any sense if he didn’t. Digging through her friends, their coworkers; he found himself deep within the conspiracies of the world until he’d finally landed on Cognito Inc. A company he couldn’t find much information on, but somehow knew a bunch anyway. He slowly slid his chair back, resting his hands underneath his chin, running through the thoughts in his mind as he worked out a plan.

The room around him was surrounded by corkboards covered in sticky notes, pictures, printed-out articles, conspiracies, notecards, and papers of all kinds all recklessly connected, linked together visibly, with different colored strings. A lot like Reagan’s memories but a lot more unhinged. There’d clearly been a lot of effort put into setting this all up.

There were piles and piles of unwashed coffee cups, stacks of files, papers and images, half-eaten food on plates of all kinds strewn about: paper, plastic, ceramic. Trash was everywhere, any bin designed for it was full of empty alcohol bottles. Within all the mess, there was a large area where all of it had been swept aside, directly in front of the corkboard that’d clearly started it all. Every piece of string in the room led to the image stuck in the middle. Whoever this man was, one thing was clear. He was obsessed with Reagan Ridley.

With a sudden burst of energy, the man stood and slammed the laptop shut, swiping it off his desk and walking out the front door of the ugly little farmhouse he’d considered home for the past few months. With the start of an old red pickup truck, he drove down the road and far away. Traveling down an oddly familiar dirt road.

Chapter Text

After months of research, hours of driving, and a night in an overpriced motel room, he’d finally done it. He’d found Reagan Ridley. Now he just needed to figure out how to confront her. He deserved answers, and he was going to get them. No matter how badly it may hurt or how much she didn’t want to give them. There’s only so long you can freak out before you need to know what the fuck is going on. Parking his pickup truck on the far side of the parking lot, he snuck around the corner of the building and waited for an opening to get in to present itself.

Reagan was feeling a lot more chipper than normal. The beta version of the algorithm was almost complete and ready for testing, the gang had been keeping on top of their missions better than ever, and she and Brett had an official bi-weekly ritual of regression-carer time. There was nothing that could go wrong; in fact, she was so confident in that statement she put her hands on her hips and said it out loud as she stepped off the elevator into the office. She gave the demands to the group, just a few cover-ups and preparations for the first testing of the algorithm, then headed into her office to finish planning out the week.

Despite the unhealthy amount of late nights, coffee, and alcohol, Reagan had managed to create a pretty consistent routine for herself and her life. Every Friday evening she’d brainstorm plans for the next week and every Monday morning she’d work out the kinks and write it out to help guide everyone on their to-do’s until all the work's been done. Then do it all again the next week.

She allowed herself to get engrossed in her paperwork. The team was doing their jobs, Brett was… actually she didn’t know what Brett was doing but she trusted him to do a good job or to come to her if he needed it; everything was running smoothly and nothing had gone to shit yet.

Until it did.

The door slammed open, causing Reagan to flinch and drop all her papers. She didn’t get a look at who it was but just assumed it was someone on the team complaining about some B-plot they were experiencing, so she just went about collecting her papers from underneath her desk, banging her on it, and dropping it all again in the process. Sucking the air between her teeth she readjusted herself and stood once more to face and address the silhouette in her doorway.

“Sorry, sorry, what is up-” The color drained from her face as she spotted who it was.

No, it couldn’t be. There’s no way. She had spent months sobbing over the loss of him, despite it being her decision to separate. But here in front of her, there he was, straight from Appleton, Wisconsin. Ron Staedler was standing in her office.

“...Ron?”

He paused for a moment as if got off guard before shaking it off, “uh… Yeah! Weren’t expecting to see me, huh?” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, that came off a lot more aggressive than I was intending… Look, I don’t really know who you are- Well, I do. I know you’re Reagan Ridley, head of Congnito Inc, I know your best friend is Brett Hand and I know you wanted me to be happy…”

Reagan shook her head in disbelief, tears falling down her face, her voice came out pained and warbled, “No, no, no… This is impossible, you erased your memory! You shouldn’t know any of this!”

“Just let me finish! Please,” Ron took a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve spent months trying to find you… I kept hearing your voice in my dreams. The same thing every time. You said you searched a thousand lifetimes for the one that would make me happiest, and you said that it would be without you” Ron himself started tearing up a little, something in his mind just told him this hurt, and his chest responded in turn, “You said you were sorry you couldn’t be free with me and you called me by a different name… I don’t know who you are, or who we were, but I could not stop until I got those answers.”

Reagan sucked in a shuttering breath, holding it for a moment in order to stop herself from beginning to sob, “Listen... you shouldn’t have come here. We set you free, why did you come back? This… The deep state, it hurt you so much, you shouldn’t be here!”

Ron sighed, “I… I know that too.”

Reagan stared at him in disbelief for a beat, “How?”

Ron shrugged, “I did weeks of research on who… ‘Ron’ was, then I did months of research on who we were, who you were, who your friends and coworkers were, and- god this sounds really stalkerish doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna say anything but it sounds-”

“So bad!” they said in unison, laughing briefly.

It was nice. It was nice to have that moment with him again, but it was also a lot. It was more than Reagan could handle at the moment. This hurt too. She’d spent so long getting her life back on track after her Dad almost destroyed the world and leaving behind her boyfriend for the bidding of the robes, it wasn’t fair that it all came crashing down on her in an emotional cluster fuck right at the peak of all the most important things in her life right now because her Ex-Boyfriend overheard too much of her little monologue after the suggestibility-script. This was a lot for her.

“Listen… Ron, I’m sorry that you overheard what you did, the only real information you were supposed to take was your name and where you live and what led you to decide to be there not… not all the other stuff…”

“But I’m glad I did”

“But you shouldn’t be!” Reagan snapped, “You were miserable before. Miserable working for the Illuminati, miserable with your memories and your life… you said you were so excited to finally be able to sleep at night… you shouldn’t be here, Ron, you should be in Wisconsin finding a wife to have a kid with, finding the life that would make you the happiest!”

Ron chuckled dryly, “Turns out I couldn’t sleep at night anyway… I wasn’t really all that happy either, something always just felt- off. Please, I-”

Reagan choked out a sob, leaving Ron taken aback, he hadn’t really expected this reaction, “Please, don’t make me do this all again! I spent so long going through possible timelines, and the only one where we didn’t fight or you didn’t-” she put her face in her hand for a moment, unable to bring herself to say it, “you’re better off without me.”

Ron frowned deeply, “Reagan, please, I want my memories back. I want a chance at a life with you”

“But you shouldn’t!”

“Shouldn’t I get to make that choice?”

Reagan faltered for a moment, standing in a stunned but thoughtful silence. Trying her best to think and make sense of all that was happening to her at that moment. She took a deep, albeit shaky, breath, wiping her face and sniffling as she prepared herself to speak.

“Ron, I… I just-” she clamped her hands into tight fits, slightly shaking them in front of her chest as a way to will herself to speak over the lump in her throat, “I just need some time to think, okay?”

Ron sighed, “Yeah, okay… Take-” He cleared his throat disappointedly, “take all the time you need,” he hesitated over her name slightly, “Reagan.”

She nodded and made her way to the front of the room. She stopped a moment, turning to Ron and taking off her ID Card.

“Here, why don’t you explore the place in the meantime, we’ve got a Wetzel’s Pretzels and a bar here you can check out”

Ron chuckled dryly, “Thanks…”

Reagan nodded again before solemnly slipping out the door, most likely on her way to cry in her bedroom, drink several lime-oritas, and then actually begin the process of thinking everything over.

After a ridiculously long time stumbling around the confusing as-hell company, Ron had finally come across Reagan’s lab. From all the research he’d done on himself, Rea, and all her coworkers, he knew this was the place she’d hung out the most, and while he’d agreed to give Reagan her space to think, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t go out of his way to find some things out for himself. After fighting the lab doors for longer than he’d like to admit, he managed to break into Reagan’s lab to search for anything that could reboot his memories. The problem is, he ran into a bit of a distraction.

A large, twink-like man, one he’d recognized from his research as Brett Hand, was curled up under one of Reagan’s testing tables sobbing, his blazer riddled with vomit stains and pants seemingly drenched, but it was hard to tell. Now obviously Ron didn’t know, or rather remember, much about Brett, but from any online appearance Brett had, on his or anyone else’s platforms, this seemed very- unlike him. Also, it was a grown man covered in his own bodily fluids crying underneath a desk, that was a pretty odd situation to witness just about anyone in. Regardless, it didn’t feel right to leave. For some reason, one Ron couldn’t quite place, he felt very inclined to help Brett through whatever this was. Something deep within him told him that Brett had done something great for him and that Ron should return the favor. So, despite the much louder part of his brain telling him this was stupid, Ron trusted his gut and now found himself kneeling beside Brett to do some damage control.

“Heyyy… Bud?” Ron coughed uncomfortably, “What’s uh- wrong?”

Brett turned his head up and stared in disbelief for a moment or two, “...Ron?”

Ron cringed momentarily, still getting used to being called this, before nodding, “In the flesh!”

Brett filled his own silence with sniffles for a moment before bursting into sobs and desperately clinging onto Ron, who in turn was hit with a strange sense of deja vu and did his best not to recoil in response, “Oh my god dude, I missed you so much” Brett gasped loudly, “Reagan’s missed you so much! We should go find her! Please, I don’t know where she is and I really need her right now!”

Ron swallowed thickly, “Yeah so- Reagan’s not really-” he sucked in a breath through his teeth, “available…? Uhm- and that’s totally my fault, but I can try and help you out.. If you want”

Brett shook his head no slightly before beginning to sob hysterically again, “No, no, no, I need Reagan, you don’t understand. She’s the only one who gets,” Brett gestured to himself grandly, “this! Please, you have to go get her!”

Ron took Brett’s hands in his own and locked their eyes together, “Brett, look at me. Reagan isn’t here right now, she needs some time to think. You need to either let me help you or figure it out on your own. What do you want to do?”

Brett sniffled quietly for a beat while he thought, “I guess… I want help” he finally sputtered out through trembling lips.

Ron nodded softly, “Okay, well why don’t we get out from under the table and I can take you to my hotel room so you can shower and change”

“I don’t have any clothes to change into, though”

“That’s okay! You can borrow some of mine if you want?”

Brett once again stopped for a sniffly second to think, “Do you have soft pajama stuff?”

Ron chuckled softly, “I have the softest pajama stuff”

The man-child took that as his deal breaker and allowed Staedler to lead him out of the office and into his truck. The drive to the motel he’d been staying at was painfully awkward and silent if it weren’t for Brett’s continuous sniffles filling the void. It was hard to withstand, especially with the strong scent of urine and vomit radiating off of Brett, but Ron decided it would end up worth it if he stuck this out. It wasn’t a far drive, the ex-Illuminati agent had put a thorough amount of thought into how he would go about confronting Reagan, even if he wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He pulled into the parking lot and carefully helped Brett out and up the stairs.

The two men quickly made it into the room and Staedler allowed Brett to snoop through his luggage for whatever clothing he wanted. While the regressor picked out pajamas, the amnesiac started up a bath for him, Brett just felt like a bubble bath kind of guy. Just as the bath water reached a good temperature, Brett ran and, rather ceremoniously, fell into the bathroom with an arm full of the clothes he wanted. However, curving around Ron’s expectations, Brett quickly stood, dusted himself, and happily settled himself in the bath without bothering to wait for the other man to leave. Ron, feeling a little appalled, quickly excused himself and shut the door gingerly behind him.

While Brett was bathing, Ron took the time to do even more research. This was clearly something he was insecure about, so nothing he could gather information on by pursuing social media, which meant it was up to Google to answer what the actual hell was happening. It didn’t take very long, surprisingly in a way, he’d eventually stumble across age regression and began connecting the dots of what was happening. While Ron was allowing the internet to suck him in, Brett finished washing up and changing, finding that Staedler’s clothes were ever so slightly big on him, which brought him immense joy.

He ever so carefully toddled out into the main room and approached Ron uncertainly, “Ron?”

Swiveling around to face him, Staedler presented the kid with a smile, now that he actually knew what was going on, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Is… is Reagan okay?”

“Yeah, she’s, uh… She’ll be okay, I promise”

Brett nodded absent-mindedly, “Yeah… Yeah! You care about Rea-Rea just as much as I do, you’d know if something was super wrong,” the puppet-lover smiled to himself for a moment, “I really like you, you’re a cool guy!” he emphasized his exclamation by plopping himself down on the bed with a light bounce.

There it was again, that funny feeling. That funny feeling. That felt like something similar to this had happened before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Damn, his self-inflicted mind erasure. Regardless, now that all the chaos had died down and he was witnessing this glorified twink at his most content and calm, this felt really nice. Ron invited himself to the spot next to Brett and was welcomed with excited cuddles from the man in question; he found himself genuinely smiling for the first time since he’d arrived in DC like things might actually be okay if he just kept trying.

He was then brought out of his, quite frankly, overly introspective thoughts by Brett poking at his face to get his attention, “You don’t really remember me, do you…”

Ron frowned deeply, he wanted to say no, he really did, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the poor guy. What did he really remember about Brett? He was a yes-man, formerly apart of every frat, and currently an intern at Congnito Inc. but that was all things Staedler had read on the internet, not things he actually knew. What else did he know? He knew Brett really cared for Reagan, he knew Brett loved 80’s and 90’s things, he knew Brett felt a physiological need for everyone to like him, he knew that Brett was suicidally friendly, he knew- ‘wait a minute’

“Who would be that suicidally friendly…” Ron whispered softly.

Brett's eyes lit up in recognition, “Brett, would!” He responded slowly, but gleefully.

They locked eyes for a moment, Brett beaming at Ron, and Ron in turn beginning to turn up as he realized he finally remembered something about his previous life. With a cheer, and with all the strength Staedler had, he lifted Brett into the air and swung him around, bringing him in for a hug.

“Holy shit, I actually remembered something! We fucking hated each other at first- oh my god, I remember you! You gave all of Reagan’s coworkers a virus so they’d like me” Staedler laughed softly at the memory.

Brett nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, yeah! You were the first person to ever tell me it was okay if I didn’t like them” The, now recovering, amnesiac nodded in familiarity. Allowing Brett to crash into him with another hug.

From that moment, they spent the rest of the day playing board games and chatting. Brett telling Ron stories as a way to help jog his memory, and Ron telling Brett about the weird things that went down in Appleton in the short time he was there. Their day eventually ended with them both passing out in the motel bed next to each other, Brett clinging onto Ron like a child at some point in the night and Ron gladly accepting the physical affection.

Even if Reagan needed time, Ron was now more confident than ever that things could get back on track.