Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ollie strolled into the Esper Union HQ lobby. He looked around for either Laura or Drew—preferably both, since they were meant to be taking him out to lunch.

"Hey, Ollie!" Laura waved him over to one of the many doorways. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I've gotta check in with Clara about this inventory discrepancy. You can hang out in here for now."

"Don't worry about it. Where's Drew?"

"Probably in his office. I haven't seen him all morning, actually."

"He might have forgotten about–" Ollie cut himself off with a grimace. "Never mind. This is Drew we're talking about."

"Maybe someone is holding him up. You know he's too kind to turn down anyone who comes to him for help. I'll swing by after I've talked to Clara."

"Why don't I just go get him while you're doing that? Better than sitting around twiddling my thumbs."

"Great idea." Laura pointed toward the reception desk. "Miss E should be able to hook you up with a visitor's badge. Back in a flash!"

The pink-haired lady at reception provided Ollie with both a badge and directions to Drew's office. Feeling a little self-conscious, Ollie made his way quietly along the corridors.

Just as he came within eyeshot of the office, he heard someone coming from the opposite direction. An impulse to hide around the last corner struck him; he wasn't sure why, but he decided to roll with it, listening for whatever might happen next.

The approaching footsteps slowed to a halt out of sight. There followed a moment's hesitation, then a few sharp knocks on the door.

"Drew? It's Falken."

A tense silence.

"I know you're in there. I just ran into Ye Suhua, and she said you haven't left your office all day."

An awkward silence.

"I'm sorry about last night. It's my fault for drinking too much. Please, just... forget everything I said or did."

An extra awkward silence.

"...Anyway, thank you for taking care of me. I'm really very grateful."

A remarkably uncomfortable silence.

"I'll... see you around, then."

Swift retreating footsteps. The creak of the office door easing open.

Ollie was about to come around the corner when he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"He's gone."

Ollie moved just enough to get a sightline. A man in an ostentatious coat and sharply pointed hat stood in the doorway of Drew's office, in profile as he looked back over his shoulder.

"I really think you ought to go to the infirmary. It seems to be getting worse."

"Perhaps you're right."

The weakness and pain in Drew's voice cut Ollie to the quick.

"Let me take you there. Can you stand? You can lean on me."

The stranger went back into the office and emerged with his arm around Drew's slim waist. Drew sagged against him; his usually alert ears were limp and listless; the violet glow of his eyes had dimmed to near darkness.

Ollie felt as though his own heart had suddenly vanished, leaving in its place a lifeless void.

There was no thought, no decision. Pure instinct drove him straight to Drew's side.

"Drew–!"

The stranger, clearly alarmed by Ollie's sudden approach, put his other arm around Drew and pulled him into a protective embrace. One of Drew's ears swiveled, slowly and feebly, toward the sound of his name.

"Good afternoon, Master Ollie." A spark of joy lit up his eyes for a few seconds. "I'm glad you're here. I'm afraid I might not be able to join you and Miss Laura for lunch. Forgive me..."

The light in his eyes faded, and he slumped into the stranger's arms. Ollie felt cold all over.

"What's wrong with him??"

"M– mm– migraine." The stranger's stern face belied his stammering. "But he– h– he's get– getting w– wor– worse."

"Which way to the infirmary?"

The stranger nodded in the appropriate direction. "Ta– take his a– his arm. We can bo– both help."

"Fine." He moved into place and took on some of Drew's weight (such as it was). "I'm Ollie, by the way. Ollie Ramses."

"I know. I've s– seen yo– y– your p– your picture."

"Oh." Ollie didn't know what to say to that. "I've got him. Let's go."

As they shuffled down the corridor, he fished out his phone and dialed Laura.

"What's taking so long?"

"Drew's not well. Meet us at–"

The call ended before he could finish the sentence. He was briefly confused.

Then he heard heavy running footfalls, and it all came together.

"I'm here. Let me carry him."

Ollie yielded without question, as did the stranger. They had to run to keep up with Laura's quick strides as she barreled toward the infirmary. Drew looked small and frail in her brawny arms.

"Ollie, hurry up and unclip his monocle chain. Elliot, tell me what's going on."

"He said he had a slight headache when we met for breakfast—about seven o'clock. Then he called me at half past ten and asked me to help him with his paperwork. I wasn't able to leave the library til quarter of noon, and by then he'd gone from blurred vision to complete loss of sight. He's also very weak."

Ollie, still struggling to keep up with Laura and remove the clip from Drew's ear, shot Elliot a suspicious look. "What did he have for breakfast?"

"Scones and m– mm– milk tea. N– no– nothing un– unusual."

"Ollie. Ear clip. NOW."

"Slow down, then!"

Laura paused long enough for Ollie to take the clip off. Almost immediately, Drew's eyes regained some of their usual brilliance, though he remained unresponsive.

"There must be something wrong with the circuit. Elliot, take this down to Taylor in the tech lab and ask him to run a diagnostic on it. Take Ollie with you—he speaks nerd."

"Why–"

"Ollie, please, PLEASE just do as I say. I'll explain everything later, I promise."

"Okay, we're going, we're going! –Lead the way, Mr Elliot."

Chapter Text

Elliot said nothing until they reached the lab. Even then, all he did was mumble "excuse me" as he nudged Ollie out of the way of the biometric lock.

The tech lab had that blend of order and chaos that is the unique byproduct of a swarm of engineers. The room was large but still crowded, full of devices and technicians in various stages of function. There was an odor of burnt rubber and a tang of machine oil in the air.

Ollie had little confidence that he could summon the right person by shouting. At least half of the lab techs were already yelling, mostly at their own projects.

"Which one is Taylor?"

Elliot pointed.

"...You're sure?"

Elliot nodded.

"Right. Okay. C'm'on."

The tech in question was well over six feet tall and almost cartoonishly muscular. His burly shoulders were easily three feet across from deltoid to deltoid. Glowing lines formed a strange pulsating pattern across his bare torso and arms all the way to his fingertips.

Elliot inched around the other techs and stopped just outside of Taylor's (for lack of a better term) turn radius.

"Good afternoon, Taylor."

The tech glanced up just long enough to confirm his visitor's identity, then refocused on his work. "Hey, Elliot. Rare to see you in the lab. What can I do for you?"

Ollie cleared his throat. Taylor put down the wrench and looked Ollie full in the face.

"Hello. You look familiar. Haven't I seen your picture in Laura's office?"

"Yeah, she's my sister. I'm Ollie."

"Taylor. Glad to know you. What's that you're holding?"

Ollie held up the monocle and its chain, then lowered them into Taylor's cupped hand. Taylor brushed his project aside with an alarming clank, laid the monocle on the worktop, and repositioned the desk-mounted magnifier.

"Huh. It's not like Drew to be so careless."

"What do you mean?"

"The clip is mangled. See?"

"That might be my fault. I had to take it off him in a hurry."

"Huh."

Taylor held the clip delicately between his thumb and forefinger. With his other hand, he made some subtle adjustment to the contraption around his wrist. All the lines on his body suddenly shone blinding white.

"Cōleī et cūlus!" barked Taylor, dropping the clip and shaking his hand around like he'd burnt himself. "Did you open the clip or yank it off from the chain?"

"Opened the clip. I didn't want to hurt him."

"Then this isn't your doing. Someone yanked this off him and caused a short in the transistor. The energy flow is completely unregulated."

"Could that cause a migraine?"

"That's about the LEAST it could do. You'd be lucky to come away without some kind of nerve damage. That much esper power feeding back on itself–"

His spine snapped straight. The glowing lines pulsed faster and faster.

"Please tell me he's okay."

"I... don't know." Ollie forced himself to breathe calmly, even as panic stole the warmth from his body. "Isn't there a fuse or something to prevent this kind of thing?"

"Yeah—why didn't the circuit breaker trip?" Taylor bent over the worktop once more, this time doing something to the monocle with a comically tiny screwdriver.

Ollie glanced over at Elliot, then did a double take. Elliot's hands were clamped over his mouth; silent tears streamed from his eyes.

"Are you okay?" It seemed like a stupid question to ask, but Ollie knew virtually nothing about this man except that he cared about Drew, so the stupid question was obligatory.

Elliot almost imperceptibly shook his head. Obligation met, Ollie went back to waiting quietly for Taylor to finish investigating.

A phone rang. Taylor reached over and hit two buttons on what looked to be a military-grade brick of a phone.

"Hey, Laura. You with Drew?"

"Yeah," said the tinny version of Laura's voice coming through the speaker. "What have you found out so far?"

"Someone's done a number on his monocle, and I don't believe for a second it was him."

"Agreed."

"How's he doing?"

"Unconscious, but his vitals are stabilizing. Now tell me what did this to him."

"Shorted transistor at the contact point, and... yeah, just like I thought: there's damage to the frame, and the circuit breaker was jammed."

"Yikes. Are Ollie and Elliot there?"

"Yep."

"Would you ask them to come to the infirmary? I think Drew would like them to be here when he wakes up."

"I can hear you, Laura. We'll be there soon."

"Oh, good. No need to rush, but..."

It was about to get awkward, so Ollie caught Elliot by the elbow and propelled him out of the lab.

"You'll have to show me the way to the infirmary. I guess we don't have to run, but I'd rather get there as soon as possible."

Elliot didn't seem inclined to hurry. He wasn't moving at all.

"Hey, what's the holdup?"

The only reply was a whimper. Ollie bit back an impatient comment and thought carefully about how to facilitate communication with this painfully shy individual.

"I'm going to turn and look in the other direction, okay? And then I want you to tell me what's going on."

As Ollie had hoped, Elliot gained greater fluency when not under direct scrutiny, though his answer was punctuated throughout with quick sobbing breaths.

"What if Drew doesn't wake up? Taylor said there might be nerve damage—what if it's permanent? He was in so much pain, then he just... stopped moving..."

Ollie felt like he might break down if he let Elliot go on.

"He'll be fine. Laura's a great doctor, and he's tougher than he looks. After everything he's lived through, he wouldn't–"

His voice cracked before he could complete the sentence. He coughed to cover it up, not very convincingly.

"Just lead the way. We don't have to hurry."

"All right."

Ollie avoided looking at Elliot on the way, partly because it seemed to unnerve him, but also because it was uncomfortable to see him cry.

Chapter Text

Laura met them at the infirmary entrance, looking very calm. Anyone else might have assumed that this meant nothing was wrong, but Ollie had known her his whole life and recognized the mask of serenity for what it was.

"How is he?"

"Stable. We're just waiting for him to wake up."

She worded the sentence carefully, but Ollie understood what she was trying not to say outright: they were waiting to see if Drew would wake up.

"Is there somewhere Elliot can sit down? He's, um..."

"Of course." Laura shepherded the tearful Elliot toward a small office. "Why don't you look in on Drew? –Elliot, honey, I need you to keep breathing, okay? Deep breath in..."

Ollie looked around the infirmary—almost spacious enough to be a large clinic or a small hospital ward—trying to determine where Drew was. There were too many possible routes to narrow down efficiently.

He closed his eyes and listened, extending his esper power to increase his range of hearing. There was Laura's heartbeat, slow and strong; a racing heartbeat that must have been Elliot's; the pulses of various medical staff, each with their own rhythm, but none familiar...

There.

He followed the hallway on the left and strode briskly into one of the identical rooms.

A woman in a summer dress was taking notes on the machine readouts by Drew's bed. She looked up with a soft smile on her lips and surprise in her eyes.

"Ollie, right? Drew has a picture of you on his office wall."

"Yeah. How's he doing?"

"Physically stable. If he doesn't wake up on his own within a couple hours, we'll take some scans." She gestured to a chair by the bed. "You're welcome to sit with him. I'm sure he's glad to have you here."

Ollie mumbled an affirmation as he took a seat. The woman said something else, maybe her name, but the words didn't sink in. His mind had gone blank when he saw how still Drew lay.

The door closed. He realized he was alone with Drew.

Someone—Laura, probably—had taken off Drew's gold collar and replaced it with a gauzy scarf. Without his singular armorial accessory, Drew appeared completely vulnerable.

"Hey, Drew." Ollie's voice sounded breathy and childish to his own ears. He made an effort to sound more gruff. "It was really rude of you to get hurt when we were supposed to have lunch together. Did you just not want to eat with us?" He tried to laugh, and failed. "You always say you're happy with whatever restaurant we pick, but I know you'd rather go someplace with mousse cake on the dessert menu. We'll do that next time, okay?"

The hum of machines and the soft sound of Drew's breathing hardly broke the silence.

"Laura was really cool, like always. She's great in emergencies. Remember when I was a little kid and I broke your wrist while we were sparring? She knew exactly what to do, even though you didn't tell anyone how bad it was... You never tell us when you're hurt. I didn't even know that you nearly d–" The word caught in his throat. "I didn't know how badly you were hurt when... when Father... I never knew until Laura told me, and that was only a couple months ago. Why didn't you tell me back then, when I said all those awful things to you...?"

He took Drew's hand. Even through the glove, he felt how cold it was.

"You know I didn't mean it, right? I was out of my mind when Father died. I knew it wasn't your fault. I just didn't know what to do or say or think, and... you've always been the one who listens to me and helps me when I'm lost."

Hysteria was pooling in the back of his mind. The constant beeping, the lack of response, the coldness of Drew's skin, the stillness of his eyes with their faint glow...

"You'd better wake up soon, okay? I mean it. Laura can handle it—she can handle anything—but she shouldn't have to, and I don't think I can. Elliot's already fallen to pieces, and I'm halfway there. Is that what you want: a couple freaked-out espers loose in Union HQ?"

He scanned Drew's face for any sign of movement, the slightest tic or ear twitch, but saw nothing.

His hand clenched convulsively around Drew's.

A jolt of power passed between their hands. Their heartbeats synchronized.

A familiar violet glow emanated from under Drew's fluttering eyelids. "Mmh..."

"Drew!"

"Master Ollie? I– I'm afraid I can't see you very well."

"Does your head still hurt? Can you see at all?"

"I'm in no pain. I think my left eye is all right. Could I trouble you to find my monocle?"

"It's broken. It nearly fried your brain."

Drew blinked. "Did it? How alarming."

The absurdity of that understatement, coupled with burgeoning relief, caused Ollie to burst out laughing. Drew smiled faintly and squeezed his hand.

"Please accept my apology for this incident. I'm sure you were all very concerned."

"You bet. I'd better go tell Laura and Elliot."

"Perhaps you might text Laura. Elliot is really very shy."

"No kidding." Ollie pulled out his phone, then paused. "Are you and he...?"

Drew looked away in embarrassment. His ears clearly telegraphed the answer.

"It's cool. We haven't talked much, but he seems pretty decent. He definitely cares about you."

"Master Ollie... you must know that no one can take your father's place in my heart."

"I know. It's fine—really. I'm glad you aren't alone."

Belatedly, Ollie sent Laura the good tidings via text. He figured they had maybe twenty seconds before she appeared.

"The tech guy said someone yanked off your monocle and damaged it. That must've happened recently. Was it that Falken guy?"

"How do you–"

"Doesn't matter. Yes or no?"

"...It was an accident."

"Is that a yes?"

Before Drew could confirm or deny, the door opened, and a blur of white and bronze passed Ollie on the right.

"Good job, Ollie." Laura eased through the doorway, beaming brightly. "I knew you'd be able to wake Sleeping Beauty."

"Please, Miss Laura..." There was a smile in Drew's voice. "–It's all right, Eliya. I'm here. Just hold onto me."

Elliot was actually sitting on the bed, twisted and bowed over to press himself into Drew's arms. He had left his hat, coat, and gold gorget elsewhere (probably Laura's office), and what remained of his outfit made him look like a member of the idle rich—or a CEO's boyfriend. He showed no sign that he intended to move in the near future.

"So..." Ollie cast about for a non-awkward subject. "We should reschedule our lunch, I guess. Is tomorrow too soon?"

"Let's give it a few days," cautioned Laura. "I'd still like to do some scans to make sure there aren't any complications."

"I'll abide by your directives, Miss Laura." Drew stroked Elliot's hair gently, with no indication of self-consciousness in front of the Ramses siblings. "May I ask where my monocle is presently located?"

"Taylor has it. He's the one who figured out what it was doing to you."

"Excellent. It's his design, so I imagine he'll be able to repair it."

"He'd better improve it while he's at it," Ollie stated firmly. "This shouldn't happen again."

"I think we all agree on that. Drew, what did happen? Surely you didn't do that to yourself."

Drew's ears twitched. "...The chain caught on someone's cufflink, and they tore it free without realizing. No one was at fault."

Laura frowned. "You're sure about that?"

"Absolutely." He locked eyes with Ollie. "There was no malice."

There were some obvious follow-up questions to be asked, but Drew looked so tired that Ollie didn't have the heart to inflict further stress on him.

"I, uh..." What could he do that would be constructive? "I bet everyone's hungry after all the excitement. How about I go buy us some sandwiches or something?"

"That would be lovely, Ollie. Maybe you could grab a couple hawawshi at Tima's. I have to go schedule the scans for Drew. If you have time, Elliot, would you mind keeping him company for a while?"

"I– I'd lo– l– love to."

"Thanks, hon. Press the call button if you need me."

She discreetly beckoned to Ollie. He followed her out and turned to make sure the door shut quietly.

"I was so afraid..." Elliot's voice trembled, but it was strong enough for Ollie to hear through the gap.

"I'm so sorry, Eliya."

Ollie eased the door very slightly open to eavesdrop more effectively.

"You must be exhausted after your panic attack. Why don't you lie beside me for a moment?"

"What if somebody sees?"

"I'll take responsibility."

A warm laugh. "Djehu... you're not as proper as everyone thinks."

"Propriety is less important than love."

Elliot responded with a sigh of contentment.

"What are you doing?" whispered Laura, directly into Ollie's ear.

He nearly slammed his fingers in the door. "Gods above, Laura–!"

"Leave them alone already. Don't be nosy."

"I'm not!" he protested, even as he let her tow him away. "I need to know if he's happy—that's all."

Laura's grip on his arm loosened. "Yeah, that's fair." There was a subtle sadness in her voice. "I was worried that he wouldn't be able to let himself love again."

"You don't think it's too soon?"

He regretted the words at once, and braced for a sharp rebuke from Laura.

Instead, she nudged him gently, not hard enough to hurt at all.

"It's been three years. That's about how long after Mother's death that he and Father got together."

Ollie stopped in his tracks. "Really? I guess I didn't really think about it like that."

"I can tell." Laura grinned at him in a way he found slightly infuriating. "And here I thought you were good at math."

"Well, don't blame me if I count wrong and forget to buy a hawawshi for you."

"If that happens, I'll just eat yours, so you better check your work!"

He wanted to nudge her this time, but he figured he might hurt himself on her rock-hard muscles.

Chapter Text

When Ollie returned with a takeout bag, there were a few more visitors for Drew in the infirmary. One of them, a tall skinny fellow in a fashionably flamboyant outfit, perked up at the smell of food.

"Hawawshi?"

"Good nose. I'm Ollie."

"Ahmed."

They shook hands. He recognized Brynn and inclined his head to her, which made her smile. The last visitor introduced himself as Q.

"Would any of you like one of these? I got extra."

Q pulled a face; Brynn declined more graciously. Ahmed hesitated but looked hopeful, so Ollie pulled out a foil-wrapped packet and pressed it into his hand. He waved off Ahmed's faint protest and turned his attention to the patient.

"Doing all right, Drew?"

"Yes, Master Ollie, I'm feeling quite fit now."

Ollie peeled back the foil on a hawawshi before handing it to Drew. The former butler, sitting up primly, nibbled delicately on the meat-filled pastry.

"Where'd Laura go?"

"Setting up equipment for a brain scan," reported Ahmed. "I offered to help, but–"

"Say no more. I know how my sister can be."

Brynn laughed lightly. "It's good to see you again, Ollie. How have you been?"

"Um..." He wasn't sure how much detail would be appropriate, so he just shrugged. "I'll be better once Drew is out of here."

"Same here. I'll also be a lot happier when Q stops trying to live-stream from inside the infirmary."

"Look–!” Q flapped indignantly, so rapidly that he nearly hit the ceiling. "Drew's really popular with my viewers, and don't even get me started on Ahmed's crazy fanbase. This could really help me grow my audience!"

"I appreciate your forbearance, Mr Q," Drew interposed gracefully. Q humphed, but he seemed at least slightly mollified.

Noticing a glimmer of grease on Drew's mouth, Ollie rummaged in the bag for a napkin and handed one over without having to be asked. There was something comforting about the act of caring for Drew, a symmetry with his childhood when the butler was his only true friend. Drew's grateful smile made him feel a little shy.

"Oh—where's Elliot? I don't want his hawawshi to get cold."

Drew and his visitors simultaneously indicated the corner of the room nearest the door. Elliot, once again sporting his coat and accessories, was seated with his back to the corner, intently reading a dauntingly thick book. Though his hat largely obscured his face, his trembling lips betrayed his anxiety.

"Actually, if you don't mind, Master Ollie... I had intended to assist Mr Elliot with some administrative tasks this afternoon. If you would be so kind as to accompany him back to the library..."

Ollie took the hint immediately. "Sure thing. I'll leave Laura's food with you. –Let's go, Elliot. –Bye for now."

The librarian closed his book and followed Ollie out. When they arrived in an empty corridor, Ollie started to turn around, then thought better of it and kept his eyes off Elliot.

"I assume Drew just wanted me to get you out of there. I'm guessing you don't do well in crowds."

"Yes—I mean, no." Elliot's voice was low but steady. "Thank you, Mr Ollie."

"Oh, please, don't call me 'mister'.”

"All right... Ollie. I'm grateful for your help."

"Good, because I need to ask you for a favor."

"Oh? I'll do anything in my power, of course, but–"

"It's nothing major. I just need information about someone. His name's Falken."

Elliot was silent for a long moment—long enough that Ollie started to regret saying anything. It was hard to resist glancing at him to evaluate his reaction.

"I know that Drew looked in on Mr Falken last night," said Elliot at last, so quietly that he seemed to be talking to himself. "The way he apologized today... Did he have something to do with what happened to Drew?"

"I suspect as much. I don't know for sure, but I intend to find out."

"What will you do if he was responsible?"

Ollie had to think about the question for a moment.

"I'll make sure he knows what he's done. –With words," he hastened to add, "peacefully."

"Of course." Elliot's tone suggested mild skepticism. "I guess he can take care of himself... He's very tall, with longish white hair and a dark undercut. He keeps the lower part of his face covered. Do you need more details?"

"What's his rank relative to Drew's?"

"Higher. He's a commander. Their offices are on the floor above where Drew's is."

"Okay. Do you need me to take you back to the library?"

"I'll be all right from here." Elliot nudged Ollie's arm, very gently. "Do what you need to do."

"I will." Ollie paused uncertainly. "...See you around?"

"Oh, I hope not."

After a slightly incredulous moment, Ollie looked at Elliot—and found him smiling shyly but mischievously. He grinned back and patted Elliot on the back before heading for the stairs.

Chapter Text

Ollie checked back with the helpful and knowledgeable Miss E at the front desk, and learned that Commander Falken had left early that morning to lead a cleanup mission—a local one, she assured him, so the team would be back within the next few hours. Yes, Ollie was welcome to wait in the lobby. How was Drew, by the way? Of course she'd heard; it was her job to know what was happening in the building. No, she couldn't literally hear everything—and the ops chief who could hear everything wasn't in today—but she was in touch with every department and coordinated all internal communications.

By the time Ollie politely extricated himself from that conversation, the lobby was bathed in the rosy light of sunset. He took a seat with a direct line of sight to the front doors.

Half an hour later, a blond man with a mechanical arm strolled into the lobby, closely followed by a twentysomething dressed like a teen idol.

"Don't put words in my mouth!" the latter was saying. "I just said he looked a little off—not that he was doing a bad job!"

"I know," replied the other, his voice booming. "Don't put words in my mouth. I'm just telling you to be careful what you say to him—or anywhere near him."

"But I heard something happened during his mission yesterday. Were you there? Did you see what happened?"

"No, and anything that isn't in the report is none of our business."

"The report did say that a Union defector was leading the Shadow Decree squad."

The blond put the man-child in a headlock. The "victim" did not seem particularly alarmed, merely resigned to what must have been a frequent occurrence.

"You better not go shooting your mouth off about that, bud." The blond ruffled his cohort's pink hair. "Is there even a brain in your head??"

"Bardon, let go of David."

The deep voice stopped both headlocker and headlockee in their tracks. The blond released his hold immediately and stepped back.

"Sorry, Commander."

"It's okay, Commander. Bardy didn't hurt me or anything."

"Enough."

The tall figure who had just entered perfectly matched the description Elliot had given—and the voice matched the one that Ollie had overheard in the corridor earlier in the day. This could only be Falken.

"Submit your reports, then go home."

"Yes, sir," his subordinates said nearly in unison. Their reactions were moderately fearful; they might have interpreted the commander's order as punitive, but Ollie thought he recognized a degree of warmth in the otherwise deadpan voice.

"Dismissed."

The younger men took off in opposite directions; then the pink-haired one stopped short, turned around, and ran after the blond.

"You're liable to give those boys a heart attack one day," opined the receptionist, but she was smiling.

Falken blinked. "Am I? I thought they'd be happy to get home early."

"Sure they are. They just don't realize that's what you meant." She laughed when he furrowed his brow. "Laura was right: you're a great guy, but you can't read people at all."

The commander shook his head and strode out of the lobby, into one of the branching corridors.

Ollie hurried after, catching up with him in a stairwell.

"Commander Falken?"

The man turned. A single slit pupil stared at him, the other eye shielded by a white wing of hair. His mouth was obscured by a black neck gaiter.

"Yes? ...Are you new to the Union?"

"I'm just visiting. My name's Ollie."

"Oh. You're Drew's..." Falken gestured vaguely. "...family."

"Yeah."

"What can I do for you?"

"You can tell me what happened last night."

Falken's eye widened. "Last night...? I... I don't know what you're talking about."

Ollie felt a surge of anger. His staff was in his hand before he realized he'd summoned it.

"I guess you haven't heard. Drew's in the infirmary." He stepped forward, backing Falken into the wall. "Someone broke his monocle, and the power feedback loop nearly killed him."

"What?! Is he– How is he now?"

"He's okay, thanks to Laura—but it could've been a lot worse, and we don't know if there'll be any long-term effects."

The commander let Ollie corner him with no attempt at self-defense.

"You know what happened, don't you? I hear Drew went to see you last night." He tapped on Falken's chest with his staff. "I asked him about it, but all he'd say is that it was an accident. I need to know the whole story."

"I–" Falken closed his eye. "Please, don't... don't ask me. It's... personal."

"Something to do with that Union defector, maybe?"

Falken's eye flew open. "How did you–"

"I don't care how personal it is. Accident or not, you hurt Drew—and you're going to tell me how, and why."

Ollie's voice was shaking, but he kept his hand steady, holding the staff so Falken could see the pulsing heart suspended within its crook.

"I want the truth. If you lie, I'll hear it in your heartbeat."

Falken hesitated. Ollie wondered whether he'd stand a chance if the commander actually fought back.

"Not here." Falken bowed his head. "Come to my office, and I'll tell you everything."

There was no spike of anxiety, no crescendo in his pulse. He seemed... almost relieved.

Ollie stepped back and crossed his arms. "Lead the way, then."

Falken's office had a window. Ollie half expected the commander to climb through it and escape.

Instead, Falken stationed himself beside the window, staring out into the distance.

"Will you promise me not to tell anyone else what I tell you here?"

Ollie gripped his staff tightly. "I'm not promising anything until I've heard the whole story."

"Fair enough." He did not sound particularly upset. "I'm willing to face the consequences of my actions."

"I don't plan to shout it from the rooftops, Commander. I just can't promise total secrecy. Elliot knows I was looking for you, and if he asks..."

"I see. I'll tell you what I remember, and leave the matter to your discretion."

With Ollie leaning against the office door to maintain a degree of privacy, Falken began recounting the previous day's events. His tone varied throughout, and his heartbeat reflected his emotions, but at no point did Ollie detect any sign of deception.

Chapter Text

The mission was to clear out a cache of small Miramon that had invaded an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Falken brought an archery-focused team to pick them off with minimal risk.

It should have been perfectly routine.

"Commander, someone's broken through the barricade!"

The initial scouting party had boarded up all the doors to keep the Miramon from escaping. Now the big bay doors were splintered open, hanging on their hinges; the remains of the barricade lay broken across the ground, interlaced with shards of ice.

"Looks like an esper's handiwork, sir. Bounty hunter, maybe?"

"Possibly." Falken tested the strength of the ice with the metallic tip of his glove. "More likely the Shadow Decree. Bounty hunters like to keep a low profile in the field. This was a bold move."

He recalled someone who was fond of bold moves. A premonition raised the hairs on the nape of his neck, more so than the chill in the air.

"This might be a trap. Lucas, Mona, you're with me. Everyone else, pair off and cover the other exits. If you encounter a Miramon, use distanced attacks on it, but no close-quarters in case they're rigged to blow. If any Shadow Decree soldiers turn up, do not engage—fall back and regroup at this entrance. Go!"

As the others scattered, Mona sidled closer to Falken. "Are we going in?"

"I am. Stay here and keep watch. Knock out any unfriendlies that come our way."

"Commander, I–" She faltered under his gaze. "...Call for me if you need me."

"Your priority is to keep the entrance clear. It's vital that you stay here."

Chapter Text

Falken was still gazing out the window by the time he finished his story, but the line of his shoulders had gradually altered from military-straight to shamefully hunched.

"That's all I can tell you." There was a strained quality to his voice. "What will you do with this information?"

Ollie had already made up his mind, but he spent a moment determining how to phrase his response.

"The situation was... unique. I don't believe anything like this could happen again." He let his staff blink out of sight. "As long as you don't put yourself in a similar situation... I see no need for further action."

The commander turned, his eye wide. "You don't? But..."

"Drew was right. There was no malice."

"Still–”

From the look on his face, it seemed almost as though he was disappointed that Ollie did not intend to punish him.

Ollie decided he wanted to get out of Falken's office immediately.

"You should make a proper apology to Drew once he's recovered." He was already halfway out the door before it occurred to him to add: "And... you shouldn't treat yourself so badly. You'll just hurt the people who care about you."

He left before Falken could say anything more. The commander would be okay—he was almost sure—but he couldn't worry about that until he was sure that Drew was okay.

Ollie was greeted with good news at the clinic.

"Nothing turned up in the scans," reported Laura cheerfully. "If Clara signs off on it, Drew could probably go home tonight!"

Drew received the news with a calm expression, but the tilt of his ears betrayed his happiness.

"Do you want us to take you home? –I mean, if you're allowed," Ollie amended quickly.

"I shouldn't want to put you or Miss Laura to any trouble, Master Ollie." Drew's fingers fretted at the scarf around his neck. "Perhaps I ought to remain here. I would only require use of the bed overnight, and my present visual impairment would be less of an inconvenience here than elsewhere."

"You wouldn't–” said Laura at the exact same time as Ollie said "That's not a–”; the siblings fell silent, momentarily at a loss.

"Come home with me," interposed a quiet voice.

Ollie nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't even noticed Elliot in the corner.

"Are you sure?" asked Drew, his tone low and a little shy. "We haven't... that is, this would be the first time..."

"I'm sure." Elliot's voice was surprisingly steady. "Then I can look after you—and you needn't worry that you're putting me out, because if you stay here then I intend to stay with you anyway."

Before Ollie could fully digest Elliot's statement, Laura was already hustling him out the door.

"Let's have lunch the day after tomorrow," she called back over her shoulder. "You're invited, too, Elliot!"

Ollie only managed to get out of Laura's grasp out in the corridor.

"What was that about??"

"Isn't it obvious?" Laura was grinning from ear to ear. "Elliot's just invited Drew to his place for the very first time!"

"So??"

"I'm excited for them! Aren't you?"

"I don't wanna think about it." He gestured in annoyance at her incredulous look. "What?? Drew's basically our stepdad. I absolutely do not want to know about he and Elliot... ugh, don't make me say it!"

Laura tugged Ollie's hood down and ruffled his hair, eliciting a freeform sound of brotherly outrage.

"Innocent little Ollie," she teased. "When will you grow up?"

"I already did!"

Laura's smile subtly altered. "Yeah... I know."

Ollie wasn't sure how to respond, so he patted her arm awkwardly.

"...How about I take you and Anita out for dinner tonight?"

"Anita's at a friend's, and Odette said she'd swing by if her mission doesn't run too late... How about tomorrow night?"

"Okay."

"Here you go, sweetie." The bartender set down a napkin before placing a lowball glass on the counter. "First time anyone's ordered a Lemon Drop on the rocks, at least from me."

Ollie inclined his head respectfully—something he'd learned from Drew. The bartender's hair-snakes wriggled as she gave him a bit of a smile.

Aside from the hit of vodka, the drink was very similar to the limoon Drew used to serve on scorching-hot days. It tasted like happiness and home.

He drained the glass much faster than he meant to.

"Perfect. One more, just like that, please. –No rush, though."

The bartender's smile was almost predatory. Ollie felt a bit of a blush rising in his cheeks.

As he watched her sashay away, he caught a glimpse of another patron reflected in the mirror behind the bar: an esper with a canine head, tall ears lined with gold, eyes glowing behind a gilt mask. Those glowing eyes were fixed on an untouched martini glass filled with a deep violet cocktail.

"Doing okay there, hon?" The bartender also had her eyes on the cocktail. "I did warn you that adding Sky Bleu to a Crimson Flame doesn't improve the taste at all. Sure, it's pretty, but the flavors just don't mix."

The stranger said nothing. With a careless shrug, the bartender moved off to address another customer.

A sneaking suspicion in Ollie's mind quickly evolved into an idea for a small experiment.

He pulled out his phone and went through the motions of placing a call, then put the phone to his ear. After a few seconds, he began a one-sided "conversation".

"Hey, Drew." Short pause. "I was just wondering how Falken was doing."

There was no visible change in the stranger's expression or posture, but his stoic demeanor was only a façade. His heart rate had spiked at the mention of Falken.

"He seemed pretty messed up last night." A longer pause. "Hmm. That's too bad." A moderate pause. "Yeah. Send him my regards. Hopefully he'll get over that asshole soon." A final pause. "Bye."

His fake phone call "ended" just as the bartender returned with his second Lemon Drop over ice. She winked at him behind her visor; he didn't realize why until he saw the phone number written on the edge of the napkin under the new glass.

"Oh. Uh... Thanks, miss."

The moment of awkwardness distracted Ollie from the experiment. By the time he refocused, the stranger had gone to the register at the end of the bar. Ollie couldn't pick up anything from him anymore, and resigned himself to sipping his drink in silence and mirror-watching the stranger's swift exit from the establishment.

The bartender sauntered over to the abandoned cocktail, humming cheerfully—then fell abruptly silent, scowling as she grabbed the glass. She whipped out a phone and jabbed in a number at the speed of anger.

"Hey, Celine. You won't believe what just happened. ... No, nothing to do with roller skates! ... This patron gave me what I thought was a great tip, but turns out he left some serious claw marks on the bar. ... Right?? Like a lousy fifty's gonna make up for ruining a mahogany countertop! ... Gotcha. I'll get a snapshot for the appraisal. ... Bye, babe."

Her dark look transformed into a dazzling smile as she turned back toward Ollie.

"Want anything else, sugar?"

"Uh... I'm good." He averted his eyes. "I'm ready to settle up."

To be polite, he tucked the napkin with her number into his pocket. He also left a generous tip, since he felt mildly guilty about his experiment resulting in property damage.

Outside of Evening Sounds, Ollie caught a whiff of tobacco smoke strong enough to make him cough.

The stranger—Sander, he was almost sure—leaned against the wall in the alley by the bar, puffing at a cigar like his life depended on it.

He glanced up and locked eyes with Ollie.

"What are you looking at, you little punk?" he growled.

"Nothing." Ollie tilted his head to suggest innocent curiosity. "Are you okay? They're pretty mad about what you did to the counter."

"Mind your own damn business."

Just as Ollie turned to go, Sander's rough voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Is he okay?"

"Who?" Ollie knew, but he had to hear it for himself.

Sander gritted his teeth, as though answering required a monumental effort or caused him great pain.

"...Falken. Is he okay?"

Ollie waited a long moment before answering.

"No. He's not okay."

The cigar crumbled as Sander's grip tightened. He swore and shook off the ash and embers from his hands.

Ollie turned away with a grin of satisfaction. He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help hoping that Sander would keep suffering for a while.

Some people choose love, he reflected, and some choose misery.