Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

The sun was shining through the trees, creating a halo of light all around. It was a strange sort of clearing about a hundred yards from Driftmark. Almost a perfect circle, wholly empty of trees. All that was there was a soft field of grass and patches of wildflowers and dandelions. It was a beautiful sort of place to be…to think…to draw. If Luke wasn’t in his treehouse, then he would often be in this field; it felt like a sort of safe haven away from the loud, seemingly endless hum of his family and the home they lived in.

If there was one thing that Luke was always willing to do, it was share with the people he cared about. And sometimes, he felt like he had to prove that he cared too. So, Luke had painstakingly gone back and forth, carting out his best paper, markers, and crayons in droves. Over and over, he went back and forth making sure he had all the art supplies he could possibly need. Carefully then, he divided everything in half, creating two neat piles of paper and making sure that there was an even spread of color between the supplies as he split them. Not that that mattered much. After all, if he had a color that was otherwise needed? He’d give it up in a heartbeat. That was how his mothers had raised him: sharing is caring.

Once he was fully set up in the clearing, he waited.

And waited.

Eventually, the guest of the hour arrived in the clearing and Luke visibly brightened, a smile taking over his whole face and lighting it up. He shone like the sun as the girl sat before him, face fairly deadpan, but with eyes that were curious and kind.

“Hi, Lyanna! I brought everything out,” Luke chirped happily. “Sorry, Joffrey couldn’t come out today—he’s with Daeron. Daeron got really scared yesterday.”

Lyanna sat down and took a marker from her pile, staring down at the paper beneath her. She was silent as if trying to figure out what to draw. As she did so, she looked over and saw Luke already starting to draw something of his own. She cocked her head to the side and stared intently at what he was drawing out. After a few moments of silence, Luke noticed her staring and stopped drawing. He looked down at what he’d begun to sketch out roughly with a dark crayon and frowned.

It was, by all accounts, a monster. Or some approximation of one. A half-baked, half-finished monster that tickled something at the back of Luke’s brain that he couldn’t seem to grasp. It was sort of like the mummies he’d seen in Helaena’s old books about Egypt, he supposed. Humanoid, but devoid of all life. It had horrible glowing yellow eyes and was reaching its hand out. And the hands didn’t end in fingers the way he thought of them, they looked closer to claws. The worst of all, even only as the sketch, was the mouth on the thing. It was huge, with teeth that were not human, but decidedly a lot closer to needles. It was almost like he could feel the prick of them against his skin when he looked at them. It made his heart skip a beat even though he didn’t know why. The longer he looked at it, the more it seemed like the thing could crawl out of the page and get him—even in its rough, unfinished state.

Shocked, Luke blinked at it, looking up at Lyanna. “I…I don’t know what this is,” he admitted, shrugging. “May…maybe I saw it in my dreams last night?” He frowned, his brow pulling down and together as he thought hard. “Or…maybe this is what Daeron saw last night.” At the confusion on the girl’s face, Luke continued. “He got stuck in the elevator inside.” He clearly didn’t remember the right word and he decidedly didn’t care. “He got stuck in the basement.” He pointed down to the paper. “Something grabbed him. It even tore his shirt.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was this.”

Across from him, Lyanna turned her head, looking at Luke quizzically. She believed him. But, the thing he’d drawn on the paper scared her. Luke noticed the anxiety that entered her eyes, even as her face remained largely blank. He frowned seeing such emotions flitting across her face and searched his brain for a way to soothe her. Unfortunately, he came up without any idea of how to do it.

“It won’t be able to hurt you,” Luke settled on, a half-hearted response to be sure. He deflated, even as the words exited his mouth. “They didn’t believe Daeron—our moms. They never believe us. They don’t even believe me ’n Joff about you.” Luke let out an annoyed huff, brow puckering in irritation instead of confusion this time. “Not even my brothers…not even Hellie believes me and Joffrey about you. It’s not fair.” Luke stared down at his drawing, a pit growing in his stomach. “You believe me, don’t you, Lyanna?”

When Luke looked up, there was no reply from Lyanna. But he didn’t need the verbal confirmation. Not when he saw the understanding and acceptance in her eyes. He knew that she did—he could tell. He knew it as surely as he knew his dream last night had been what Daeron had gone through.

He had someone on his side at least.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

Luke was no fool. He knew that he lived tucked haphazardly within death’s pocket. He knew that every day the likelihood of fentanyl killing him increased. Every day the likelihood of him overdosing on even just heroin increased; well, it increased that when he overdosed, he wouldn’t be brought back in time. He’d long since accepted that his choices would kill him. Mental health seemed to run in—and ruin—his adoptive family. Far be it from him to be different. No, he intended to be the trailblazer instead. To run himself into the ground from drugs before his brain would otherwise do it for him. It wasn’t suicide if it were the drugs that killed him—never mind that he was the one to pick them up, to use them…to inject them.

It was only a matter of time.

Time was, in itself, a funny sort of thing to Luke. It always has been. Whether in an active, often violently active, state of addiction or one of his lulls—rehab facility, always, but never in actual recovery, not really—time wasn’t a concern of his. From the time that he was a boy, time never seemed to go against him. Others would disagree and say that time wasn’t on his side. But he knew better. Time was malleable…bendable. Time worked with you if you knew how to make it happen. And Luke? He was a master of manipulating time when he needed to…when he wanted to.

Not in rehab centers.

Never in rehab centers.

And God be fucking good, Luke was sick of rehab centers. That wasn’t hard to see with his truly impressive track record of running from them. He ran from the first one without looking back. He ran from the second one before his head hit the pillow in a detox room. He ran from his third one into a damn jail cell instead—it felt preferable at the time. On the cycle went since the time he was…oh, about twenty, he’d wager. It had been bad even before that, but, by then he’d stopped trying to hide it, and his family stopped trying to pretend they didn’t see it. That’s when the rehab visits had begun—they hadn’t stopped yet.

But this…this had been his choice. A better version of himself, evidently, because his irritation had him ready to turn tail and run now. Every rehab should come with a sign reading abandon all hope addicts who enter here. That was, at least, the mantra that played cynically through Luke’s head when he got the call that there was a bed for him. He only briefly considered telling them to go fuck themselves before remembering his family and what he not only owed them but what he wanted to give them. Mostly, he thought of his sister—of the one person who never gave up on him, even when he knew he would deserve it if she did. So, instead, he hung up the phone and started dragging himself to the one place he never thought he’d voluntarily subject himself to.

A great deal of recovery centers were opulent in California. Made for the stars...or, at least the wannabe stars. The reality was that a lot of celebrities who went to rehab didn’t go to rehab in California. And the reality also was that it didn’t matter how outwardly…grand a rehab center was. It didn’t. Recovery was at the center of it. And recovery was a fucking nightmare. A hellish, painful nightmare that never seemed to stick. Not with Luke.

So, even having entered this wretched place of his own accord, from the moment Luke walked into the Reflections of the Rising Sun Rehabilitation and Recovery Center, Luke was already dreaming up ways to leave. He was, in fact, from the moment that his brain fully registered the pretentious ass name, callously dreaming of the quickest ways to get out. Again, he forced himself to think of his sister. Helaena wanted this for him. And deep down, he wanted it for himself too. Because of this half-hearted realization, he decided to play along—at least for now.

That led to him getting shoved into a detox room of course. And what followed was a grueling two weeks while his body begged him to shoot up more heroin. He begged the staff for it, for fucking anything, and he ultimately got nothing. Cunts. Even with the blunting effects of the methadone and extended-release naltrexone they cyclically gave him to choke down, he was in agony. Two weeks of a pulse that oscillated between weak and racing with a blood pressure to match. Two weeks of terrible sleep from the raging fever, muscle cramps, sweating, and bone pain. Two weeks of nightmares with images so haunting it felt like the figures in them lingered in the corners of the room when he woke up. And not like the sleep paralysis he knew his sister experienced, but something much more different and sinister.

Nonetheless, he made it out of detox. Miraculously. And so, now he was two weeks clean from heroin. And whatever else he’d been putting into himself; God only knew what it had all been in the end. So, as the nice woman Elyana marched him to the new room he’d stay in now that he was free of the sour, sweat-soaked, and stale-smelling room in the detox center, he supposed he was meant to be proud of himself. 14 days. Whatever that was fucking worth—he never counted detox time in his actual count of days sober. To think that 14 days mattered in the grand scheme of things. To him? They didn’t. Not really. What did 14 days matter to stand up against the years that he had left to live? If he got to live that long.

Elyana let him set his things down in the room he was being put in—a room with three other guys in LA, for fuck’s sake maybe he should’ve gone to a cushier place and just begged Jace for a handout after all. And from there? He immediately was being dragged to group therapy. The actual bane of his existence, his own general…presence aside. He’d actually rather write and be forced to perform a ballad dedicated to H than do this shit. And as sugary sweet and genuinely kind Elyana had been to him, he suddenly had the biggest urge to take her out at the knees just to get a chance to run away. That thought alone forced Luke’s legs to keep moving steadily forward though—if his urge led him towards violence? Probably best that he just quit where he’s at.

So, into the stupid ass group therapy room he went. And he sat on a chair that hurt his already aching bones. And he folded his arms across his chest and had to remind himself to not pout and sulk like a child. He knew what he looked like to others in the room. He had impossibly dark circles under his eyes and a sunken look about him. He was scruffy looking with unkempt hair and a stupid unshaved beard—if you could call it that—to match. He looked every inch the heroin addict that he was. He had to admit that even in a room full of fellow addicts, some of whom looked worse off than himself, he still felt some level of embarrassment at being seen like this.

He listened in stony silence as the others around him spoke. He didn’t even attempt to appear like he was listening, much less focusing. His whole body ached. Staying upright in the chair felt like a battle. He felt the way that he was still sweating from the detox. It was enough that it made him want to shower again even though he’d done so less than two hours earlier. All of him wanted to lay down in his stupid new bed—more of a cot, really—and curl up to sleep. Maybe forever, if that were possible. But instead, he thought of Helaena and he stayed.

“Criston, how about you share your story,” Elyana said, voice even and light. There was no command or insistence in her tone. Merely disconnected, no... dispassionate…care.

“Do I have to?” came a grouchy voice.

“No,” Elyana said, voice not betraying her amusement in the same way that the curve of her lips did.

Luke let his eyes move towards the other person speaking—Criston, what a stupid ass name, he thought to himself, careless of how rude it was—and he blinked in muted surprise. The man was wearing sunglasses inside, large and with strange edges that covered the whole of his eyes. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, but he leaned back in the chair looking somehow comfortable. He also held what appeared to be a folded-up walking stick in his hand that he absently tapped with two of his fingers as he sighed.

“Fine,” the blind man—Criston, again his brain supplied—granted. “I’ll talk.”

“Take it away then,” Elyana said, voice now openly displaying the amusement she’d previously fought to conceal.

“Well, thanks, Sarge, really appreciate that,” he drawled. The man sighed.

Luke watched as the man’s body language slowly opened. His legs, previously crossed, moved open and he uncrossed his arms, instead opting to just tightly hold the folded walking stick with both hands. He then cleared his throat. There was another pause and Luke could see the discomfort on his face for only a split second before the man expertly concealed it—as if he’d been trained to be able to do so. His posture couldn’t be helped though and he looked suddenly stiff as a board, a stark contrast to the ease he’d been displaying mere moments earlier.

“Take your time, Criston. You don’t have to do this today,” Elyana said, the offer kind, but the words even. She obviously didn’t want him to think that she pitied him or was treating him with kid gloves.

“No, I’m fine,” Criston insisted. “I can do this. I can talk about my life.” He sat back in his chair, posture slowly going lax again. “I had a busy family when I was growing up. I had brothers—both far older than me. They’d been gone from the house for a few years since I was born. My parents had me late, it was no secret that I was a mistake…the child they never meant to have. They never mistreated me. But they weren’t…there. Hard for them to ever be. Working. Tired from working. And I…I get that now, I do.”

Luke sat forward slightly, hunching over himself as his stomach roiled against his very being for a moment. He inhaled shallowly through his nose and exhaled it sharply and just as shortly through his mouth.

“One of the things I remember most from time with my dad though was when he taught me how to see faces in clouds. I was…probably four when he first even…suggested something like that to me. I mean, I was a rambunctious kid. I’m sure he was doing it just to get me away from him and to actually shut my goddamn mouth and be quiet for a little bit,” Criston said. “And it, uh, it worked. Because I got really good at it. I could pull faces out of a lot of things. Out of mud…leaves…streams…stars. Whatever I could see…I tried to find the faces. It was kind of like a game. And I…I mean I saw faces that I’m sure no one else would’ve been able to make out. Kind of…habit, I guess. Never thought much about it, really. Not until I got to oh…say…maybe ninth grade? English teacher had us read ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’…I don’t remember who wrote it, but…doesn’t matter. Point is…I went home that night and I looked at the wallpaper in our house. And true as could be…I found the faces. I didn’t see them moving like the girl in that story, but I could find the faces. I was a kid; it was just my imagination.”

Luke tasted metal in his mouth. He had to actively strive to not gag. He wondered how long it would be before he got his next doses of methadone and naltrexone. But he forced himself to display a minor level of interest. Not out of care, but because it was a distraction. And distractions? They felt like they’d save his damn life right about now. Especially when the alternative was going to be kicking his nice case worker or screaming at a blind guy.

“My dad died when I was at the end of my freshman year of high school,” Criston explained. “Mom buried herself in work to ignore it. My brothers didn’t care about me—at least I didn’t think so. So…I started falling in with the wrong crowd. Started messing around with liquor, then drugs. I was going down all the wrong routes, you know? And then one day my brothers came home when I just took enough horse tranqs to kill a damn rhino. I was out of it. They saved my life that day. And they also gave me an ultimatum. Rehab or the army.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy sort of smile. Not at all. “I told them to go fuck themselves…then I chose the Air Force instead.” He blew out a forced chuckle. “I thought that it’d, you know…straighten me out somehow. Get me on the right path. And, to the force’s credit…it did. I had…never felt like I belonged to something more. Like I was…like I was part of a family. It was…just what I needed.” He paused. “Until it wasn’t.”

Another distraction came in the form of the woman next to Criston. She looked almost as bad as Luke did, maybe a bit better, but not by much. She was obviously still newer to rehab and looked equally hateful about the whole group therapy bit. That was nice at least—made him feel like he wasn’t crazy, itching out of his skin and going insane just for wanting to leave. Or, well, at least not alone in it.

“It was 2003…I was doing my third tour. I got stationed in Iraq. We were…it was part of Operation Iraqi Freedom. My team and I, we were part of the first Air Force combat parachute assault,” Criston said. His voice grew distant, detached, but wavered as if he was struggling to keep the emotions at a safe distance from himself so he didn’t have to feel them. “And initially, things were…as good as you could consider possible in an active war zone. Everything was…not good but…tolerable. At first, it was better than my first tour…that was during Desert Storm. The second tour was just as bad, still had me in Kuwait at that point. They really, uh, really made the start of this one seem like a cakewalk.”

Luke didn’t care much about the military one way or another. He was, however, admittedly curious at the fact that he’d served. That meant he hadn’t always been blind. His mind wandered off to the thoughts of flash bombs, shrapnel and horrendous other things that could’ve possibly happened to rob him of his sight. He winced slightly at the thought and looked down at his hands. His leg had begun to move and he couldn’t stop the steady vibration of the limb, the twitching out of his control already.

“Initially our job was listening and observation. Not recon or anything. Just surveillance. But, time came for soldiers to start moving south. We got used to help clear routes…buildings,” Criston said, his voice going entirely flat. “And, uh, eventually…it took us through a town. By and large we weren’t dealing with civilians. We all knew it was inevitable that we’d encounter them at some point, though. And this, uh…this was it.”

Luke felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle. A sick feeling was in his stomach and not just from the lingering effects of heroin withdrawal, but also from the words the other man was speaking. Luke was no fool. He knew there was no happy end to this story. Not at all. There couldn’t be.

“And so, my company was rolling through this town. They’d been hit hard by rebel bombing. It was…a fucking nightmare, honestly,” Criston muttered. His tone had grown dark and his mind was obviously drifting away to recollect the carnage that he’d seen if the tension on his face were anything to go by. “And we secured the ruins of this…this bombed-out, uh…” He trailed off and swallowed hard. “School…” Again, his voice failed him.

Luke went rigid at the words and he found himself holding his breath. Even the woman next to Criston, the one who looked as miserable as Luke felt, stiffened on his other side. Briefly, she looked up and made eye contact with Luke before looking back down. Luke had to swallow down that same metallic taste from before and remind himself that he should go ahead and not throw up here like a dumbass.

“We…they told us the school had somehow gotten a warning beforehand. They managed to evacuate. But…this…this one little girl went back. We don’t know…we don’t know why she had,” Criston said. He took a shaky breath and cleared his throat. He steadied himself by gripping his walking stick tighter in hand. “She, I mean she was burnt up, you know? Dead. The…it was bad.” He shook his head as if dislodging the image from his mind—most likely he was. “The thing is, most people don’t know what that looks like. At all. What it smells like. None of it. And they…don’t get me wrong they shouldn’t. No one should have to see that shit.” He cleared his throat again, the sound harsher this time. “And I mean, I’d seen burnt-up bodies before but never a kid like that, you know? And…and the thing is that most people don’t know what happens to someone’s eyes in a fire.” A harsh, short, barking laugh came from somewhere deep in his chest. He clearly wasn’t amused. “I certainly fucking didn’t.”

Despite himself, Luke twitched in his seat, unable to help it anymore. The bouncing of his leg was doing nothing to quell his nervous energy. And no matter how much he swallowed down the saliva invading his mouth, he still felt just on the verge of passing out or throwing up. The story wasn’t helping, he was sure, but there was nothing to be done about that. He couldn’t exactly get up and walk away. Not with the thought of his sister looming in his mind and the rest of his family lurking behind that thought.

“In the right kind of fire…eyes can…uh, they can melt. Like…” Criston said, voice cutting off quite suddenly. “Think of…egg whites on black top. You know? And uh, I mean…that fucked me up pretty badly.” He used one hand to scratch at his beard, an anxious look on his face. “Anyways, six months later I wind up back in the States. At first, I’m happy to be home. Tour ended on a pretty sour note, honestly…more than you’d imagine even with it being—you know, war. By that point, I’ll admit I’d seen things that were…objectively worse than the little girl. But, turns out it’s not like that fucking mattered to my brain. Only she did. Because, pretty soon, I start seeing that little dead girl’s face everywhere. And it was like I couldn’t escape it. It was in the clouds, in the dark, on fabrics. Just fucking…everywhere, man.”

Luke found himself absent-mindedly biting at his cuticles—a terrible habit he didn’t even know where he’d picked up along the way—trying decidedly hard to not think about the words that Criston was saying anymore. It was to the point that thinking about rehab and recovery was more appealing than distraction. Even this distraction. But, he knew, again, that he couldn’t just leave. And if everyone else was just…dealing with what was being said, then he supposed that he should be able to do the same.

“Fucking everywhere,” Criston muttered. “That little girl’s charred body…those…those melted eyes…just…just running down her cheeks. It was all I could see. Awake, asleep it didn’t matter. My brothers saw me losing it. Tried to get me in with the VA and I refused. They did everything right, they did. But I…I was stubborn. I didn’t think I had PTSD. I didn't think it mattered, none of it. I just…I thought that…you know…I saw something fucked up and that it just stuck with me. But…I was an idiot. I know that now. And before I knew it, I was using again. Worse than ever before. To that point I hadn’t been taking anything crazy…mostly just pills…drinking…but when I got back? I started doing some stronger shit. I tried heroin…wasn’t my cup of tea, but I did it for a while. Benzos…didn’t do shit to make me feel better.”

God, Luke wished he could relate to that. The only thing that made him feel better was heroin. Benzos were a close second, but then again, anything supplemented when he was high as a kite served to only make him feel better. And, even when he was his most coherent, knowing there was something wrong with it, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t imagine describing heroin as not his damn cup of tea. To Luke? The very thought was ludicrous.

“One night though I’m like…fuck it let’s try psychedelics. Haven’t done any in a long ass time. So, I drop a little acid,” Criston said. His voice cut off as if someone had hit a mute button on him. His mouth moved for a minute as if he were speaking and no words were coming out. He stopped moving his mouth and then a bitter smile took over his face. “And then there she was. That little girl. And I mean…she’s coming out of the goddamn wallpaper. Suddenly I’m that woman from that stupid ass story watching the girl in the wallpaper walking around. She crawled out and I mean…she…she’s staring at me. Even without her eyes, I can tell. And it was…haunting. And I couldn’t stop seeing her.”

Already, Luke had figured he knew where this was going. He was even more confident in that knowledge now as much as it sickened him. He wanted to leave, wanted to stop listening. But somehow, he’d turned into a captive audience and he just couldn’t stop. What he wanted didn’t matter. This just…was what it was. He was here; he was stuck.

“So, I grab this pair of scissors. I wasn’t…I didn’t…I just needed to make it stop. I needed her to go away. I didn’t…I didn’t care what it took. It was…all I could think about was making her stop. Making it all stop,” Criston explained. He barked out a dry laugh. He made an aborted motion jabbing himself in the eye. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. Obviously, it wasn’t.” He blew out a breath. “I did…a good fucking job turning my own eyes into runny e—sorry…” He trailed off. “Sorry. Not the point. So, then I’m blind.”

Even without warning, Luke knew that this wasn’t the end of it. It couldn’t be the end of it. Addiction aside, he wouldn’t be here if that were the end of it. Rarely was rock bottom just taking your eyes out with scissors. There was always something more to it. It wasn’t just I took my eyes out with a pair of scissors and now I’m blind. No, Luke was blindly confident that it was more I took my eyes out with a pair of scissors, am now blind, and. And Luke didn’t love that prospect. But, nonetheless, he kept listening like a good little addict.

God, he wished he had some fucking heroin.

“But I mean, like, I can’t see anything, right? I’m blind, so I’m good, right?” Criston posed. Already Luke knew the answer was no. “Crispy kid with the runny-egg eyes…she’s gone, right?” Criston shook his head. “No. Wrong. Twenty-four-seven, I see her face. I mean, shit, I see it now. Sitting here with you all, talking about it or silent, she's right here with me. And it’s fucking hard, but…”

Luke’s stomach roiled once more as Criston trailed off. The man took a moment to compose himself. His grip on his walking stick loosened and his shoulders slowly relaxed again—Luke hadn’t even realized when he’d gone tense again. Immediately, Luke realized his own shoulders had risen to his ears. He too forced himself to relax. He knew all too well that if he didn’t relax his shoulders and muscles now then he’d feel even worse later. And it was something he didn’t think he could particularly afford given the already debilitating level of pain he was in.

“I can’t complain, not really,” Criston said after a few beats of silence. “You know, um…it could be worse. And, um…I’m here.” He blew out a long sigh. “Two months I’ve been clean. It’s a little too late, obviously. I leaned on my habit to get rid of that face. Oh, but my habit made damn sure that I never would be able to forget it…forget her.” A last time, he paused. “That’s why I’m here. Two months.”

There was a weighted silence over the room for a minute. Elyana was the one who broke it by clearing her throat and then stretching. She made it seem casual and measured. But Luke wasn’t an idiot. He’d been in and out of enough of these to know that the movement was calculated and that the story had disturbed her. Hell, it had disturbed everyone in the room. It’d be far stranger if she hadn’t been impacted by it.

“Well thanks, Criston. We’re glad that you’re here.” Her words were sincere. Almost painfully so. And that was the thing…even with the contrived and calculated thought behind everything in the place…to this point, all of the staff was still jarringly genuine. “Would any of our newbies like to share?” Elyana asked, her eyes moving around the circle. They landed on him, despite his fervent prayers that they wouldn’t. “Luke?”

A flare of bitterness brewed inside of him. What would he say? I lived in a haunted house. Fuck no. My family’s always been broken. Absolutely not. I’ve had death hung around my neck like a goddamn necklace since I was a kid. That wouldn’t go well. I didn’t come out quite right—everyone saw this coming; I know it. That also wouldn’t go over too well. My whole life began with love and acceptance that was ripped away from me when I was a kid and now, I try to fill the void with whatever can chase that reality away long enough that I don’t have it in my dreams anymore. The most honest but impossible option yet.

He went for none of those options, obviously. Instead, he blinked at her, disgruntled, a frown on his face. “And follow that?” he asked dryly. He looked around the circle, locking eyes briefly with the woman next to Criston who had openly snorted at his words, and then back to Elyana. He shook his head in genuine disbelief. “You kidding me?”

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

Luke walked through the halls of Driftmark, gripping a box of crayons and a pad of legal paper—not even a box of markers or a sketchbook. He’d run out of room in his last sketchbook just the day before and a few days before that, his markers dried out and he’d lent his colored pencils to his little brother Daeron, knowing just how much he’d needed them. So, he was left with the dregs for now, with his mothers telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he wouldn’t be getting a new one until the end of the week when the contractors were done for the weekend and they’d be able to take him for what would doubtlessly be a multiple hour affair. But that was no matter for Luke’s creativity. He didn’t need the best materials, he just needed the space to breathe…to think for his mind to get whirling with new ideas.

He was thinking about maybe going to his treehouse to draw for a while. But, something in his stomach kept him in the house, walking the halls. He was looking for something. He wasn’t sure what, exactly. And it seemed like no matter where he went in the house, no one was there. It was the eeriest thing, the kind of thing that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand. But, almost as if something were directly behind him…trailing him…Luke couldn’t stop walking. Everything in his brain screamed at him to keep going. But Luke was entirely used to being afraid. So, he didn’t look back. He just kept forward.

Eventually, as he’d been walking, he passed Jace’s game room. He paused as he passed, overcoming his borderline crippling fear, and took a few steps back, turning his head to the right, looking in the open door. He saw two of his brothers—Jace and Joffrey—inside. Seeing them, Luke’s face bloomed into a bright smile. He shuffled in the door, his brothers not noticing him for a moment. Eventually, both of the boys tore their eyes away from the small TV and the video game level that Joffrey had just lost Jace.

“Hey, Luke,” Jace greeted with an easy grin. “Do you wanna play?”

“No,” Luke declined. He’d never been a fan of video games. He glanced between his brothers. “Can I stay and watch?”

“Sure,” Jace agreed while Joffrey nodded eagerly. “You gonna draw?”

As Luke began nodding, Joffrey began speaking. “Of course he will, Jacey,” Joffrey said, openly rolling his eyes at his big brother. He looked at Luke, eyes big and pleading. “Just please don’t draw something scary again.”

“I haven’t even been drawing scary things!” Luke countered, immediately incensed by the entirely true accusation.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jace interrupted, looking between them. “Don’t fight. Joff, you keep playing. Luke, you draw whatever you want.” He handed the controller back to Joffrey and clapped Luke’s back, letting him sit down in front of the television on the carpet. Immediately, Luke began to spread out some of his paper so he had some inspiration. “Uh…Luke?”

Mid-looking for a crayon, Luke didn’t bother looking up from his quest for the perfect yellow. “Yeah?” he asked, absent-mindedly.

“What’s that?” Jace asked, voice uneasy.

“What’s what?” Luke asked, finally glancing up.

Jace pointed and Luke followed it with his eyes down to his papers. There was a drawing sitting neatly to the right of the rest of his papers. He knew he’d drawn it. He’d written his name on the bottom to make it clear he did so. But, strangely enough, he didn’t remember drawing it. And that had an uneasy sort of feeling creeping up on him just like it had in the hallway. He scratched absently at the back of his neck, feeling the uncomfortable way his hair stood on edge. He scrunched his nose, concentrating, trying to think of when he drew it. Or even just what it was.

“Well? What is it?” Jace repeated, glancing at Luke and sounding almost nervous.

“I…don’t…” Luke began, trailing off.

His eyes were still locked firmly on the image and he tried to make sense of what it was. He’d drawn it in crayon and on scrap paper from the legal pad he had, so he’d clearly drawn it after running out of sketchbook paper and giving Daeron some of his supplies. And that meant he’d drawn it in the last day or so. But he could not place when. It was clearly a drawing of a room—one that he knew his mommy would be proud of, it was the kind of drawing that she’d do. At least he thought. The room was familiar in a strange sort of way, he supposed. There was a long window with a heavy frame—not entirely unlike the one on the side of the game room, he guessed, or even like the opening his mama had left for him to look out of in his treehouse. In front of the window, there was a table that had…a tea set on it? Helaena had never had one so nice, but he knew what a nice one would look like. He stared curiously at the image, eyes looking at the dark patterns he’d drawn on the walls. Was it wallpaper, he wondered? What else could it be? And a small part of his brain, one that grew increasingly louder, was telling him that something was missing from the page…something on just the other side of the wall. He stared for what felt like an eternity at the very thing that he had himself drawn.

“Luke?” Jace prompted.

“I don’t know, just a room,” Luke said, mouth moving before his brain fully caught up. He reached out and scooped up the paper, tucking it under another that he’d torn off the legal pad so he wouldn’t have to look at it. “Doesn’t really matter, just trying to draw like mommy does.”

It was a lie, and the hammering of his heart and the creeping sense of dread told him so. But it didn’t matter. He’d make sure to think about it so little that he couldn’t even identify why he was anxious. He’d just ignore it until it went away? And if that stopped working? Well, apparently, he was drawing without ever thinking about it now, so he was sure it would come out one way or another. The less he let himself worry about it the better.

“Ugh,” Joffrey groaned, dragging attention away from the drawing. “Jace, can you win this level for me? I keep messing up at the end!”

And just like that, the eerie picture’s spell was broken. Luke moved it to the bottom of the pile of paper, turning it upside down for good measure.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

“Would anybody like to take a newcomer chip?”

7,776,000.

A number so massive to represent something so truly small.

Luke was struggling to focus. It was impossible to listen, actually. There was an anxiety buzzing under his skin, one he couldn’t really identify. It wasn’t the same itch that he felt when in active addiction and he needed to get his next fix. No, this was different than that. This was that kind of energy that he remembered his mom having once upon a time. The kind that burned at the back of your brain making you question if you left the stove on before you left the house.

In another life, he could blame it on the surroundings he found himself in. But, in this life, he’d been here before. Not exactly here…but…generally. Even so, with the option of blame or not—a habit his surroundings were surely meant to kick him of—it didn’t erase the reality. It didn’t change the feeling creeping up his neck that something wasn’t quite right. And no amount of staring at linoleum tiles or buzzing, old ass fluorescent lights was going to change that.

Needless to say, this rehab center was…plain.

129,600.

“How about thirty days clean?”

A moment so massive and impactful but so simple to anyone else.

Important, though, to say…recovery was actually gonna stick this time. And there was proof to back it up. Luke had clawed his way through hell and brimstone to make sure of it. There was evidence of it. Soon to be another piece of physical tangible evidence. He knew that

Elyana stood at the front of a recreation room in the rehab, a serene smile on her face. Her presence—sweet but stern—had grown into one that brought Luke genuine comfort. She’d grown steadily into a background noise in his mind since entering the rehab and he’d grown to appreciate that.

2,160.

A success so personal and small but with massive ramifications for his life.

He didn’t know what to think, honestly. Today was a day that had long since been impossible. But even so, no matter what he did, it was like something in him was still alight. It was like something in him was categorically incapable of settling completely. He didn’t know how to stop it. And frankly, he didn’t know if he wanted to stop it. Even now, even proud, he couldn’t fully shake it. He didn’t know what that said about him—if it even did say anything about him. All he knew was that today was one of those days, pride in his own self…in his own actions be damned, he just couldn’t seem to get it together completely. Now, in a room full of addicts, that hardly seemed to matter, but still, a self-flagellating part of Luke couldn’t fucking let it go for shit.

90.

“Sixty?”

A number that previously would’ve seemed both impossibly far and incredibly insignificant at the same time. And against all odds that Luke had set himself up with, day by day, week by week, month by month and year by goddamn year since he was just a kid…he made it. He looked at addiction and decided it was time to choose differently. Not to choose rehab alone but to choose real recovery. He’d never understood the difference before. Not really.

90 days.

2,160 hours.

129,600 minutes.

7,776,000 seconds.

One massive step in the right fucking direction.

Well, three steps technically. He was finishing out step 3 of the 12-step program. But, 3 steps in and 90 days clean, he was starting to understand. Rehabilitation was only part of it. A clinical part, really. The easiest part to treat by all accounts if the medical professionals and social workers around him were to be believed. But recovery? That was something different entirely. Deeper and stronger and something that hit at a soul-deep level.

“Ninety?”

Luke snapped out of his reverie feeling Melania elbowing his side. He glanced over at the woman at his side and saw the grin on her face. He let out a tiny sigh, rolling his eyes. But no matter how much he tried to play it cool, he felt the grin growing on his face as he raised his hand up, leaning back in his chair for a moment. Again, Melania clapped his shoulder silently showing her support. Luke felt like maybe sobriety could look good on him…could work for him after all. Elyana nodded encouragingly up front and Luke rose to his feet.

Walking up to the front of the room, Luke took the chip representing the hard—and painful—work that he’d put in over the last three months and stared at it a moment. The first 14 days, as it turned out, did matter. He turned to face the room and saw Melania giving him a small, secretly proud sort of smile; the kind he wouldn’t have even recognized as a smile three months ago.

“Thank you,” he said quietly to Elyana.

“You are welcome,” she replied, giving Luke her own small, steady smile.

“Um…Luke…addict,” Luke began, giving a sheepish smile as his eyes moved slowly across the room full of fellow addicts at the meeting.

“Hi Luke,” they all chorused back.

Luke habitually reached up, ruffling his own hair before lowering his gaze to his chip for a moment. He let out a half-laugh as he looked around again. Eventually, his eyes landed on Melania. Just like they had when he got his sixty-day chip. Just like when he’d gotten his thirty-day chip. Just like the first day that he went to a meeting here.

“I…uh…I actually don’t know what I want to say here,” he admitted. “You know, I…I have never had this much time before. Not since…well, before I started using…you know…anything. So…since I was like eighteen, I guess.” He blew out a sigh, a wry smile on his face. “But you know. I’ve made it. To, you know, ninety days now. So, um…here goes…”

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

In the safety and quiet of his treehouse, Luke stared down at the drawing he’d made. The one of the horrible creature with the yellow eyes that looked like those mummies his sister Helaena loved to learn about so much; the one that might’ve grabbed Daeron in the basement. Luke reached out beside him without looking away from the picture and picked up one of his toy soldiers, placing it on the paper. It faced inward, the gun aimed down directly at the creature.

“One,” he said.

He picked up another and placed it down. This one at the side of the first, its gun also aimed down at the monster on the page.

“Two,” he said.

Again, he picked up another. This one went on the opposite side.

“Three,” he declared.

The pile at his side was shrinking; it was also giving him purpose.

“Four…five…six…seven…eight…nine,” he said.

One by one the toy soldiers, guns drawn, were placed around the picture in a perfect formation. The monster couldn’t get him. The monster couldn’t get anyone in the family. Not when they were being protected. Suddenly determined, Luke abandoned his protectors, and his drawing-strewn treehouse. He marched himself inside, monster drawing in hand; he was a boy on a mission. He marched himself all the way to the library, knowing at least one of his mothers would be in there.

Lo and behold, his mama was the first one he saw; her shock of white-blonde hair was impossible to miss. He marched over to her, not caring what she was in the middle of—obviously, this was more important—and thrust his drawing at her. Rhaenyra was startled, not only at the appearance of Luke but at the determined pushing of the paper. After a moment of fumbling to put down the box she’d been holding, she took the paper and stared at it. She was quiet for a moment; too long in Luke’s opinion. His hands moved to his hips and he started tapping his foot impatiently.

“And what is this, Lucerys?” she asked, both amused and tired as she raised a brow at her son.

“That’s him. That’s what Day saw in the basement,” Luke said, pointing at the paper.

“Oh, and did Daeron tell you that?” she asked.

“No,” Luke denied, shaking his head. “I just know it is. He’s the one in the basement, mama. I know it.”

Rhaenyra let out a soft sigh and crouched down so she was at eye level with Luke. “Listen, Luke. Mommy and I checked down there. We searched the whole basement. And there’s nothing down there. I promise you,” she said seriously. She reached out and brushed his fine, curly dark hair back. “It’s normal for kids to have imaginary friends and nightmares, Luke. You have to be a big boy; you can’t let your imagination carry you away too. You have to be a good example for Joffrey and Daeron.”

“But,” Luke said weakly.

Rhaenyra held her son’s hand, giving him back the picture. “Go ahead. I’m listening,” she said.

“This house is bad, mama. It’s…bad,” Luke stated, dead serious.

Before Rhaenyra could reply, Alicent came drifting down the spiral staircase, box in hand. “Boy oh boy, we could have a heck of a yard sale,” she said, voice sparkling in amusement. “This is just one of the boxes that I found in the attic. There’s at least another dozen…maybe more with stuff that would go for…well, probably a lot.” Alicent’s ears caught a light giggle and her eyes immediately found Helaena hiding behind a tower of boxes, smiling up at her mother who she didn’t think had yet seen her.

“Oh, I believe that,” Rhaenyra said, rising to stand once more, hand brushing Luke’s hair a final time as she did. “We’ll have to go through and sort everything at some point. Make our save-sell-trash collections.”

“Like everywhere else we’ve been,” Alicent said, smiling as she put the box down on a pile of books that sat on the only moderately clear table in the library. “Has anybody seen Hellie?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes moved around, brow furrowing. “That’s weird,” she said. She caught her wife’s smile and relaxed, immediately knowing that Alicent knew exactly where Helaena was. “You know, she was just here.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Alicent said, words coming out casually, hand rummaging through the box that she’d just brought down. “I just thought that she might like these cool old buttons that I found upstairs.” She brought out a big jar of buttons and swirled it around, making them jingle slightly.

“Buttons?” Helaena said, as close to shrieking as she usually got, jumping from her hiding place. She booked it over to her mom’s side and put her hands on her waist, eyes big.

“Oh, you got me,” Alicent laughed, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s head. “My little Houdini. Don’t scare me like that.”

Helaena giggled. “Sorry, mommy! The buttons?”

“Look,” Alicent said, handing the jar of buttons to her daughter who immediately sat down right where she was, sorting through them in her own Helaena way.

As Helaena started to go through the button, Luke’s eyes locked on the box that his mother had brought down with her. At the very top, there was a bowler hat, black and in perfect condition. It looked far too new to have been sitting around for too long; at least in Luke’s mind. He took a step closer, feeling a strange pull towards it.

“Can I have the hat?” he asked, glancing up at Alicent who had a tiny smile on her face.

Alicent blew out a sigh, picking it up. “I think it might be a little too big for you honey,” she said apologetically.

“I don’t know,” Rhaenyra intercepted, taking the hat from Alicent’s hand, and twirling it between her fingers. “I think he’ll grow into it just fine, won’t you, Luke?” She looked at the hat appraisingly. “That is a big boy hat, absolutely.” She looked at Luke. “You want this?” He nodded eagerly. Rhaenyra smiled, kneeling down before her son. “Well, you are a big boy now.” She held it, making eye contact with him as she spoke. “But, you know, big boys…they know the difference between what’s real and what’s imaginary.” She offered the hat to Luke. “So, what do you say, Lucerys?” Again, Luke nodded eagerly.

So, Rhaenyra reached out, gently placing the bowler hat on her son’s head. It plonked down, making an almost comical noise as it did. The rim of the hat went down past his eyebrows. Frankly, he looked a bit like a turtle with the far-too-big hat on his head. But, the grin on his face more than made it worth it. Still, Rhaenyra and Alicent couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight; Helaena was far too wrapped up in her buttons to even notice how it looked. Alicent gave him a thumbs up and Rhaenyra smiled as she stood.

“You like it, buddy?” she asked.

“He loves it,” Helaena declared, not even looking up from her sorting piles.

“How do you know that?” Rhaenyra asked, smiling down at the little girl.

Helaena shrugged, suddenly packing up her buttons at an alarming speed, seemingly abandoning her sorting for now. “It’s a twin thing,” she declared, rising to her feet. She grabbed Luke’s hand and started pulling him out of the room without a further word; and indeed, it seemed they were having a silent sort of conversation—twins in all but blood.

“Well alright then. You two go play,” Rhaenyra called after them. Alicent rolled her eyes fondly at Rhaenyra, letting out a wistful sigh. She wandered over to the box she’d brought down and she picked up a shawl in it, floral and beautiful, and wrapped it around herself, and then turned her attention to the library at large. Rhaenyra turned her eyes to her wife, a smile playing at her lips still. “You alright, Ali?” Alicent didn’t answer, eyes almost glazing over as she looked at the room. Used to this, Rhaenyra reached out, gently brushing her arm. “My love?”

“I’m having total deja vu right now,” Alicent said, snapping out of it. She smiled at Rhaenyra taking a step away to dramatically turn, both her dress and the borrowed shawl flaring around her as she did. Rhaenyra smiled fondly as Alicent moved back towards her, letting out a short laugh. “It’s so strange.”

“Oh?” Rhaenyra posed, pulling her wife into her so her back settled against her chest. She wrapped her arms around Alicent’s waist gently and they swayed back and forth. “What do you see?”

Alicent’s eyes moved fluidly around the room. “Let’s see…two tables, advancing colors. Four reading areas,” she said. Her eyes moved further; the movements ever so slight. “Case goods and leather.” She let out a light laugh. “A mom and dad sitting in reading chairs that face each other. Then, smaller chairs for two…no…no, three kids. They share an open center for playing together. The kids’ books are on the lower shelf…” Alicent drifted from Rhaenyra’s arms until she stood at a bookshelf, stooping down so her hands could graze the spines of the books ever so delicately. “So even the little boy with the wheelchair could reach his favorites without a problem.”

Rhaenyra let out a low whistle, bringing Alicent out of her slight stupor. She rose upright and turned, seeing her wife giving her a shit-eating grin. “Wow. That got really specific this time, huh?” she posed.

Alicent laughed, walking back over and tucking into her side again. “Well, case goods and leather, though, for sure,” Alicent said before resting her chin on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. Her eyes trailed then over to the spiral staircase and she made a tutting sound then shook her head. “And…I see an accident waiting to happen.”

“What?” Rhaenyra asked. Alicent rolled her eyes good-naturedly then pointed. Rhaenyra’s eyes followed the direction. “Ah, that.”

“Yes, that,” Alicent teased. The ropes that were at the top of the spiral staircase were indeed an accident waiting to happen. They looked innocent enough, but neither Alicent nor Rhaenyra were unfamiliar with the types of accidents that could make tragedy befall a family. “You gotta pull those down. An accident waiting to happen, I can really see it now.” She made a show of moving her finger back and forth. “Bodies swinging back and forth. Right there.”

Rhaenyra let out a half-chuckle and nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ll get to it.”

The women laughed. They both knew she’d forget about it within the hour. But hey, it’d get done eventually.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

Luke stared at the hastily torn notebook paper with crossed-out scribbles and the blank page before him with contempt. He groaned and threw his head back shaking his head. He glanced over his shoulder at Melania who was smoking out the window without a care in the world.

“I might be allergic to the fourth step,” Luke declared, throwing the pencil down in defeat.

He scratched absently at his skin, fingers hesitating as they brushed up against the crook of his arm. He felt the small valleys and raised bumps along his arm, right where it creased, and found himself making a face. He didn’t know quite how to identify the way that he felt for a moment. It wasn’t regret, not exactly; he was far too familiar with the way that felt. And it wasn’t guilt either, not entirely; he was even more familiar with guilt than regret, loathe as he was to admit it. Part of it felt like longing…longing to put a needle back in his arm—or whatever vein wasn’t blown to hell—and ride it all the way to heaven; but even so, it wasn’t just longing. No, it was some hideous combination of the three that turned his stomach and made him want to rip his own damn arm off so he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Melania made a noise of acknowledgment, bringing him back to focus. He put his hand solidly down by his side.

“Every time I do it, I break out in track marks,” he said. His delivery, his voice, was dry and somewhere between self-deprecating and serious; it was the best he could manage with the swirling torrent of emotions in his stomach.

Melania snorted but then smacked his arm in reproach. “Good. If you liked it, you’d be doing it wrong,” she drawled. “Learned that the hard way my first ten times too.”

“A fearless moral inventory,” Luke mused, unable to help the bitterness from sinking into his voice. He leaned his head heavily against his hands, his elbows propped up on the desk. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and he blew out a breath. After a moment he lifted his head and gave Melania a sarcastic smile.

“We’re only as sick as our secrets,” she said, holding her cigarette between her teeth. Her voice was teasing and sarcastic, yet it still lit up something in the back of Luke’s brain, making sickness swell in his gut.

“Well, sure, okay, Mel,” he muttered, leaning heavily back in his chair making it creak from the strain. He cringed against the sound and sat up again, taking it as a sign that his dramatics could gift him a concussion if he didn’t stop. “In that case where the fuck do I begin?”

“Oldest to youngest sibling,” she advised sarcastically.

Luke barked out a laugh. “In that case,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just go for the greatest hits with each of ‘em.” He carelessly flicked up his pointer finger. “I lied to Aegon like it was my job since I was probably…hmmm…fifteen? And I had him…defending me to our family…whatever was fucking left of it.” He threw up a second finger. “I’ve stolen from Jace and Sara fucking endlessly—and that’s not even counting the property damage to go and get the shit I stole. And God knows I stole from Sara’s brother too, which fucked up Jace and Cregan’s relationship.” He threw up another finger. “I’ve burned Aemond for thousands of dollars…I dunno…probably traumatized his and Alys’s kids…certainly haven’t treated them the way I should treat a niece and nephew—and I just know he’d never forgive that…can’t really blame him.” Another finger.

“You have more siblings?” Melania asked, snorting in amusement, raising an eyebrow as she tapped some of the ash off the end of her cigarette. “You’re the real fucking Brady Bunch, huh?”

“Three more,” he confirmed dryly.

“God you’re a middle child through and through,” she said laughing.

“Shut up, Mel,” he drawled, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry. Do go on with your…I don’t know if I wanna call it a pity party or hate train,” she mused.

He gave her a blank look. He watched as she bit back a smile, turning back towards the window. His heart twisted for a second but he batted the feeling down and blew out another breath.

“Are you done?” he asked, unable to help the slight undertone of amusement in his voice.

“Absolutely,” she said, voice faux-serious.

He sobered up quickly, looking at his fourth finger. “I broke Hellie’s heart…missed her wedding…missed her husband’s funeral, and I wasn’t there for her when she was mourning…while she is mourning,” he said, trying to ignore the endless pit of despair he felt at those particular facts. He threw up another finger. “I fucking ruined Daeron’s graduation party and celebrating him getting into law school.” He threw up another finger—the final planned finger. “And we can’t forget Joffrey who I literally abandoned in the middle of Bourbon Street after stealing his fucking wallet when I went to visit him and Day.”

“God your family has some weird names, Lucerys,” she drawled, exhaling a long puff of smoke. He rolled his eyes but didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response.

He sighed and threw up another finger for good measure, seven of them now, and he wiggled them purposefully towards Melania to make a point. “And you know what? While we’re fucking at it, I even stole from my asshole of a mother, if you wanna call her that still. But, gotta be honest, that one doesn’t keep me up at night,” he admitted easily.

“Well, try stealing morphine from your mother on her deathbed,” she said, smacking his shoulder in her own approximation of affection. “Could be worse.”

“Probably would’ve but she didn’t really give me the chance,” he muttered, thinking of his other mother.

“You’re forgetting a finger,” she pointed out. He turned towards her, raising an eyebrow to silently ask for elaboration. She took a drag with ease, looking him up and down. “What?”

“The fuck you mean I’m missing a finger?” he asked.

She shrugged, flicking ash from the end of the cigarette again. “Are you forgetting that you’re an H addict or what?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow in return. “Or do you think you don’t owe yourself better than that too? It’s like good old Elyana says, we have to look at it the way it is. And if you ask me, Luke? You can replace property, make more money, whatever. You can fix relationships with people who are still alive. That’s just the way it is. You know what you can’t undo though? Death. You can’t undo the poison you put in your veins.” There was a dark look in her eyes that Luke didn’t quite understand, one that put his teeth on edge. “And once it’s too much? It’s too late, right?”

“Yeah, still think I’m the one in the wrong there,” Luke said, brushing her words off, refusing to think about them. “The way I see it? I’ve done a fuck ton of damage that I doubt I can fix. And the way I see it? I don’t even blame them,” he muttered.

Melania balanced her cigarette on the edge of the window sill and stooped down in front of Luke, her hands on her knees so they were meeting eyes. “Be so honest with yourself for a minute, Luke. At least you have other family left, you know? There are still people that you can try to make amends to. What is it that they say? You have to examine your motives? So, examine yours. Clearly, you aren’t doing this so you can sleep at night. You know what that means? You’re probably doing it for them.”

Luke blew out a sigh, looking away from Melania for a moment before looking back. There was a raw sort of vulnerability in his eyes that the woman hadn’t really seen before. She waited, patient, but fingers twitching ready to grab the last dregs of nicotine she had left in the place keeping her sane. It only took a few moments, but then Luke spoke again.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice coming out slow. “But I’ve done a lot of shitty things, Mel.”

Her voice was soft when she responded. “Who hasn’t?” she posed. She stood up straight again, breaking the moment of sincerity between them. She reached out and grabbed the cigarette bringing it easily to her lips. She leaned against the wall and exhaled a plume of smoke dramatically. “I’ve been on the streets since I was 13, Luke. There aren’t enough pages in your little notebook for all my shit, I promise you that.”

Luke glanced down to his notebook—quickly depleting in paper as he ripped the sheets out—and then back up. “I don’t even know how far back I should go. Like, what?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Do I cover high school? Luke, stealing money from my uncle’s wallet so I could get some beer and cigs?” The fake pep in his voice faded and he stared at the paper again. “Maybe I should go all the way back. Just start with ‘I briefly lived in a haunted house’ and go from there.”

There were a few beats, but instead of another one of Melania’s quips—or even a bark of laughter—there was nothing from her; pure silence. Unnerved by it, he looked up to see the woman looking pensively out of the window, the cigarette almost down to the butt. His brow furrowed in concern.

“Hey…you alright?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Melania replied, jerking her eyes from the window over to Luke and then swiftly back again. She was definitely acting cagey; it set Luke further on edge.

“Something’s definitely bothering you tonight,” he pointed out bluntly.

She snorted. “What could possibly be bothering me in such a wonderful place like this?” she asked, the words strangely devoid of emotion, even though Luke could tell plain as day the resentment resting just underneath.

“Come on, Mel. You’re nine months clean. Nine months. Your sobriety…it’s…it’s full-term. You got a fully formed sober little baby. Anywhere nine months clean is a palace—even here,” he pointed out. She said nothing, but the brief, brittle smile she offered disappeared quickly. “I feel like you should be better at talking after you’ve been here for months.” She gave him a dry look, but her eyes swiftly returned to the window. Luke could feel her pulling away and it…he didn’t know if it frightened him or pissed him off more. “Come on. It’s me.”

From outside of the room, they both heard Elyana’s voice, loud and clear. “Ten o’clock. Lights out. Let’s go,” she called, making damn sure that everyone in the hall could hear her no matter what room they were in. That was certainly one thing Luke wouldn’t miss when he got out of here…if he ever did.

“Seriously,” Luke said as he watched Melania stub out the cigarette with finality, a look of resignation on her face that made his nerves alight and made him itch to pick up a needle in a way that, frankly, made no damn sense to him. “Talk to me, Mel. What’s wrong?” She didn’t say anything but turned and threw the stub out of his room’s window with ease.

He heard the shuffling of Elyana’s feet and knew without looking that she was leaning against the doorframe behind him. Well, there went all hope of Melania saying a damn word about how she felt. He blew out a sigh and narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He angled his body away from the window and Melania so he could turn his head to look towards the door.

“How’s the step?” Elyana asked, arms crossed over her chest, an easy and serene smile on her face. There was no judgment in her voice, not even…compassion, he’d say either. Just…just an honest question.

“Oh, you know,” he said, clearing his throat, “kicking my ass.”

“Fourth one always does,” she said, inclining her head. She dropped her hands to her sides and then shoved one in her pocket. “Meant to tell you something earlier before the night got busy.” And busy it had gotten. There’s been a new arrival—someone who looked even worse than he had when he’d first come in and Luke knew well the kind of energy and concentration that took from all the staff; he’d already seen it at least a dozen times in his few months here.

“What?” he asked, brow furrowed as he turned, rising to his feet.

“Your brother called,” she said. At his dry look, she chuckled. “Jace, I mean.”

“Jace called?” he asked as he climbed onto his top bunk with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Yeah. Wanted to know if you were here,” Elyana said, nodding.

Luke felt Melania’s eyes burning at his neck. “Well, I’d expect that of Aemond. But, guess I can’t blame Jace for it either,” he muttered.

“Call him back tomorrow. Tell him about your chip,” Elyana advised, her voice holding no emotion to try and sway him one way or another.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I doubt he’d believe me,” Luke muttered, scratching at the back of his neck. “They never do. It’s kind of their thing.”

Elyana gave him a cursory once over. “I don’t know. That sister of yours that dropped you off? She seemed to believe in you. Entirely, actually. More than even you did, some days,” she said meaningfully.

“Yeah, well…it’s a twin thing,” he said in the absence of another retort.

Elyana looked at him like she was just humoring him and nodded. “Twin thing. Right,” she said. She looked over at Melania then and inclined her head towards the door. “Ten o’clock, Lannister. I know you heard me. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah, back to the lady’s cell block,” Melania said, going for joking but falling utterly flat.

The delivery of it made Luke’s heart skip a beat from nerves in a way that hadn’t been familiar since he was a little boy and it made him shift nervously on his feet. He glanced at Melania as walked to the door. Luke clutched the edge of his blanket ready to pull it over himself but paused as she made eye contact with him. Suddenly, his other three roommates pouring in were invisible, hell, even Elyana was invisible. But not in a good way. There was a particular look in her eyes; one that Luke deep down understood, but one that he wholeheartedly refused to believe for even a moment.

“Later,” she said after a beat too long.

“Good night,” Luke said in response, the words flowing from his tongue before he thought too hard on them.

Then, Melania turned on her heel and breezed out of the room. As she exited, Elyana gave him a final look, made sure the other three beds in the room also had their occupants in them, and then flicked the lights off, walking away herself.

Begrudgingly, Luke laid down, pulling his blanket over him.

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

Luke jerked awake without explanation. He blinked blearily looking around the pitch-black room. But his body moved him before he had time to think. His hands extracted him from his blankets. His feet moved him from the comfort and safety of his bed over to Helaena’s just a few feet from him. He reached out and brushed her shoulder, making the young girl jerk slightly before her light eyes sprung open. She blinked rapidly at Luke.

“Why’re you awake?” Helaena asked, fear erasing and being quickly replaced with confusion.

“You had a nightmare, Hellie,” he said simply.

This was a moment where it was easy to be brave. It was simpler than the most basic rules of math, more deeply ingrained than the laws of the universe. His sister needed him? He would be there. Always.

Her brow furrowed, little hands gripping her duvet in hand. Gently, Luke took the blanket from her hands and peeled it back. He crawled under the covers next to his sister and wrapped both arms around her, squeezing her tight in the way he knew she needed when she was scared like this.

“Don’t worry, Hellie, I got you. I can protect us tonight,” Luke said through a yawn, even though his eyes were already drifting back shut.

“How did you know I had a nightmare?” Helaena asked. Luke yawned again and Helaena let out a halfhearted giggle at how loud it was then poked his cheek to prompt him. “Luke?”

“Must be a twin thing,” Luke murmured, sleep already taking him back to a hand of dreams. “Night Hellie.”

“Night Luke,” Helaena said, taking Luke’s explanation and running with it.

And, at her all-but-biological twin’s side, Helaena was pulled to sleep as well. This time, pleasant dreams welcomed her instead of incomprehensible nightmares scaring her.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

Over the past few months while sober, Luke had become almost addicted to sleep. It was something he’d been so deprived of while running around high constantly and looking for either his next score or where to get the money to get his next score. So, after years…no, over a decade of self-medicating and ruining his body—just like Melania had so helpfully reminded him he’d been doing—he needed every moment of sleep that he got. The routine at the shelter had been easy enough to fall into too. From ten o’clock at night to seven o’clock in the morning, Luke was happy to doze off and recover some of the rest he’d so callously deprived himself of.

That was the usual pattern, at least.

Tonight?

Luke took a little over an hour to fall into a restless sleep.

Unlike his usual sleeping habit of sleeping like a log, this night he was dreaming. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He was having what he could only describe as almost nightmares. Images danced through his sleeping mind, not quite coming together into a full picture. Even so, the haunting, yet impossible to place, image of something that kind of looked like a hat and a tall, gangly man floating around in it. It felt like he was in some macabre, entirely unfunny approximation of the haunted house that he briefly lived in as he’d joked earlier.

The worst part though was that he felt entirely unable to wake up. It was maddening. He was utterly trapped in his own mind like some kind of child and it made him feel the same fear that he used to experience as one. But, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he utilized subtle tricks that Helaena had given him once upon a time, he couldn’t wake up.

Eventually, the haunting images ceased, but it didn’t feel like he entered a different stage of sleep. At least, not at first. No, he still felt wholly aware as if he were dreaming but someone had simply blocked his sight of what was happening in his dreams. He felt like he was wholly in his body, weighed down in it almost. His heart picked up in fear at the borderline trapped sensation. Still, almost immediately when he became aware of it, it faded away, giving way to a weightless sort of feeling, like he was exiting his own body, floating, instead, above it.

As Luke floated above himself, the panic started to abate some. He felt like he could breathe again even though he still felt trapped in this unending dream where he could see absolutely fucking nothing. There was peace in it, the darkness, he supposed. But, if he couldn’t call it that—and the occasional, painful beating of his heart made it very difficult to call it peace with any sort of conviction—then he could at least call it final. There was absolutely, without a doubt, a sense of finality to what was going on—even though, to him, it was nothing. He was floating above himself, caught in a whirlwind he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Somehow, he knew this wasn’t just him. It felt…bigger. It felt…if he were to think about it—which he wouldn’t, which he refused to—he’d find it felt quite a lot like the twin thing that he’d lazily given Elyana as an explanation…or excuse just before going to bed.

So no, there was no peace in the darkness. But there was no loneliness in the darkness either. It felt almost as if he had his sister by his side, the one person he knew he could count on no matter what he did. Or, perhaps more accurately, it felt almost as if he were at her side as she experienced this strange sort of darkness…or dream too. A few months earlier, a fucked up Luke may have found solace in that sort of thing; the very idea that Helaena was suffering just as he did. But, Luke now—still newly sober and walking on what felt like a tightrope made of sand every day—questioned that feeling a lot more. Or, he would if he were awake.

But, as it was, he was still stuck in this daze of a dream, with darkness layering over him like a cozy sweater. He felt more and more content in the strange finality sweeping over him. And any lingering discontent he felt, any fear at being sucked further still into this almost-nightmare dissipated as the darkness wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket. The longer he floated the easier it seemed it would be for him to just float away.

It felt nothing like the near misses he’d had with overdosing in his life. And sure, some might blame that on the Narcan bringing him back into himself before he could drift too far. But, Luke, ever familiar with the way things felt in his own body—and ever desperate to chase down every good feeling he’d ever experienced—knew that it was something different entirely. You’re not floating away to die this time, is what his brain desperately tried to tell him. Wake up you’re floating away to be trapped, is what the lizard part of his brain tried to communicate. Ever entrenched in darkness though, the message was not received.

At least, not in time.

With a suddenness he didn’t know how to grapple with, Luke started falling. It felt like he was falling forever until the precise moment that it felt like he slammed into his body. The contact—not that you could really call it that—as he re-entered his own body and became aware again was extraordinarily painful. It felt like he had fallen ten stories from the top of a building and slammed into water. And as he sunk into himself, he barely had enough time to process that pain, to find it in himself to breathe again. The chaos continued, instead, as it felt like something invisible wrapped itself snuggly against his throat. And he began falling again, down further this time, the invisible string—rope, rope, rope his mind screamed—hanged him with a vengeance that he doubted even the people he owed the most to in this world would take out on him.

Then, as if a switch flipped in Luke’s brain, his fight or flight kicked in. He lurched forward, sitting upright in his bed while his hand gripped his throat as if trying to tear off an invisible threat. But, there was nothing there. That didn’t stop Luke from gasping for breath, his pulse from galloping, or his hands from trembling. A cold was sweeping over his body and all at once settling in his bones.

He’d felt acceptance of death before. But that was gone now. Now, all that was left were two equally terrifying sides. First the side of fear; the kind of terror that he could literally taste, acrid and bitter on his tongue. The other side was nothingness, but not the boring kind you float off into; no, this was a nothing that would consume him. His mind drifted a moment to his mother, the one long dead now, and his brain circled around a story she’d once read him and his sister from the Bible. Jonah and the whale he thought. He was Jonah and the whale was the vacuous nothingness he couldn’t escape as it consumed him. And, as his hands trembled in a way they hadn’t since he’d first started coming down during detox, he felt like he maybe understood the fear of being swallowed whole. His body jerked as if physically trying to escape the thought.

He turned his eyes towards the clock.

12:03.

He forced his eyes back towards the window his bed faced.

Instead of being greeted with the dim, yellow-orange light of the street just beyond Reflections of the Rising Sun Rehabilitation and Recovery Center, he saw something else.

His heart was racing, his hands felt like they were buzzing.

He saw his sister.

Helaena stood in front of the window; her face largely obscured by the darkness of the room. The white blonde hair on her head created a halo that made it impossible to mistake who she was though. Her shoulders moved up and down as though she couldn’t really breathe. Luke wanted to speak, wanted to ask Helaena what she was doing there. But he couldn’t move. He was frozen to that very spot unable to even fathom moving again.

It didn’t matter though. It seemed Helaena—whatever specter of her this was—had a mission. Her breathing grew louder for a moment, face twisting in some approximation of terror and grief until she finally opened her mouth. Her voice came out in a whisper. It was quiet, that was to be sure. But despite this, the whisper still carried through the room.

“Go,” she said.

And that was all she said.

Luke blinked, his hand—and an invisible rope—still wrapped around his neck.

Helaena was gone.

THEN

Duxbury Massachusetts

Luke stood in the kitchen of Driftmark staring at what Mrs. Beesbury had explained to be talking tubes or speaking horns. He looked at it skeptically and tapped his foot while he impatiently waited to hear Helaena’s voice from the other end of it upstairs. He reached up absentmindedly to fix the bowler hat on his head so he could see again and stared at the tube.

“Luke, are you ready?” Helaena’s voice finally asked.

“Ready,” he confirmed.

“I’m gonna send down three buttons. You ready?” Helaena asked, sounding far more excited than Luke felt.

“I said I’m ready,” he replied, exasperated. “Send the buttons Hellie!”

“Okay,” Helaena cheered.

Luke heard a rolling sound. Once, twice, and a third time. Quickly, one button fell into his hand. Moments later, a second fell into his open palm. Despite hearing the sound of a third button being rolled down, the last did not fall into his hand. It did not fall at all.

“Did you get them?” Helaena demanded.

“I got two,” Luke reported, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the two dark buttons in his hand

“I sent three, though,” Helaena said, confused.

“Yeah, well I only got two,” Luke repeated. Huffing when she didn’t reply, Luke turned his body just in time to see Helaena floating into the room, her own eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “See?” He shook his hand and Helaena grabbed his arm, looking at his hand quizzically before looking up at the horn.

“It must be stuck,” she decided.

“Maybe we could drop some other stuff to shake it loose and get it back?” Luke posed.

“Like what?” Helaena asked, nose wrinkling at the thought.

“There were some rocks in the garden we could use!” Luke recalled. “Lyanna showed me one in—”

Luke’s thought was cut off by a sudden, eerie rattling sound. Then, a button fell from the horn down to the floor, spinning in a circle before settling right between Luke and Helaena. The faux twins looked at each other for a moment, facial expressions indecipherable to all but the other. They were both confused, slightly pleased, and slightly afraid.

“Wylla,” came a croaking voice from the horn. Like one of a woman old enough to be their grandmother six times over.

The twins locked their shoulders together. Their backs were straight, at attention, and their hands linked together as they looked wide-eyed at the horn before them. They stared at the horn in a mixture of horror and confusion clear as day on their features now.

“Wylla,” the croaking woman repeated.

“Was somebody else up there?” Luke blurted out.

Helaena looked at him sharply. “Like who?” she asked. “Don’t you think I would’ve said that, Lucerys?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said defensively. “Mrs. Beesbury or Aegon or something!”

“You’re scared,” Helaena said shortly, harshness immediately giving way to her normal, soft demeanor.

“No,” Luke said hurriedly. “No, I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Helaena said, casting her eyes back briefly to the horn.

“How?” Luke asked.

“Because I’m scared,” Helaena said looking back at her brother. Well, that settled it then in Luke’s mind. He sighed and released his sister’s hand, reluctantly taking a step away from her. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Stay here,” Luke said, voice startlingly steady. “I’m going to go check and see if anyone’s up there.”

“But—” Helaena began to argue.

“No, Hellie. I’m looking,” Luke said, determined.

With that, Luke began to trek upstairs to the bedroom that Helaena had just been in. Inside the stuffy, unoccupied room, Luke saw only a perfectly made bed. There was nothing. There was no one. Luke’s shoulders slumped in relief. He shuffled over to the horn in this room.

“Hellie, you still down there?” Luke asked.

“I’m here,” Helaena chirped. “Anything up here?”

“I was right,” Luke gloated. “There’s nothing. No one up here. It was probably just Aegon messing around.”

Looking into the shiny gold reflective surface of the horn—gleaming as if freshly polished—Luke couldn’t help but smile at the distorted sight of his face on the left half of the tube. But, as he looked into the horn, a decrepit old woman appeared on the right side of the horn. The air froze in his lungs as he looked at her papery old skin, white as a ghost with black patterning—almost…mold-like, something tried to tell him—in her eyes and even in her mouth.

“Wylla,” the woman—invisible but clearly next to him on the bed he’d been leaning against—wheezed out again.

Luke’s feet were moving before his brain even caught up to what had just happened. “Hellie!” he shrieked, legs carrying him back towards the kitchen—towards his sister, his twin, towards safety—as fast as they possibly could. He could practically hear his heart beating in his ears and his hands were trembling. “Hellie!”

NOW

Los Angeles, California

On a good day, Luke still hated waking up early—and he partly doubted that would ever change. But, on a day like today? One where he’d been awoken by nightmares and bizarre specters and hallucinations of his own family? He wouldn’t call that a good day at all. So, when the alarm sounded, he groaned in pain and narrowly resisted pulling his pillow over his head; he was better than that, he wasn’t a teenager anymore.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, sitting up.

His roommates had already managed to scurry out, finding themselves put together before Luke had even opened his eyes. He rolled his eyes at the thought, finding the action painful somehow as though his eyes were too dry. He hopped down from his top bunk, wincing as he landed on his feet. He must have slept wrong. It was the only thing that made sense; his body was too sore, too tense, otherwise. He began to shift, his usually fluid motion interrupted by sharp pangs of stiffness and pain. Fuck’s sake if this was what aging was? He wanted no part of it—not sober, anyway. At least when he was fucked up, he couldn’t feel the dreadful effects of aging.

“Jesus,” Luke groaned.

“It’s seven o’clock now. Breakfast is going to be served in ten minutes,” the voice of one of the aids calling over the PA system.

Luke mumbled to himself about the misery of waking up as an adult, his whole body still aching. He turned to make his bed, shuffling the sheets around habitually. But that was when he caught sight of something. A piece of paper under his pillow. One that he most certainly hadn’t put there. And one that he was pretty sure an exhaustion-and-guilt-induced vision of his sister didn’t put there either. He felt his heart stutter in his chest and a bad feeling settled over him. His mouth suddenly felt like it was full of sand and ash. He reached out and took the paper.

He recognized the tiny piece of paper. It was ripped from one of his failed letters of the night before. But, more importantly, he recognized the handwriting on the paper. It was Melania’s--absolutely and undeniably Melania’s. That’s what made the message on the paper troublesome…worrisome.

Don’t follow me!

A clear instruction to be sure. Melania always knew what she wanted. And she always meant what she said. Luke dreaded to think of what the note fucking meant. Even though, in his heart, he knew what it was, he could deny it over and over and over again until he was given evidence otherwise. So, as Luke went through breakfast in a haze of both worry and pain, he kept telling himself the truth…his truth, rather. Melania was still here. Melania hadn’t left. She was just skipping this god awful breakfast. That’s all.

The illusion was shattered by eight o’clock when group therapy started.

There was an empty chair.

It was just one empty chair. Almost directly across from him. Melania’s chair. He’d watched as everyone filtered in and sat. Elyana was presiding over group therapy today, and it made Luke’s skin itch. Between this apparent bad news, the terrible sleep he’d gotten, and the pain that his body was in—aching in a way he hadn’t experienced since detoxing months ago—he had absolutely no patience for this today. And based on the serious look on Elyana’s face he knew that it didn’t matter if he had the patience; discussions would be had anyway.

“As you can see by our empty chair, we’re missing someone today,” Elyana said, voice calm and measured as she spoke; she was confident in a way that demanded to be listened to…to be heard. “And we’re going to have a new person coming in to fill the bed by the end of the week.” Luke’s head snapped up to look at her before he immediately caught himself and looked down again. “Melania chose to leave treatment in the middle of the night.” Her eyes swept around the crowd of addicts. “This is what happens when we forget why we’re here. We slip up. We do things that’ll hurt us. And we put ourselves in a position where we have to start over again—once we’re ready to. Again.”

The unspoken words weren’t hard at all for Luke to hear; it was easy enough to read between the lines. And if we don’t start over at step one? Then we run ourselves to the ground. Potentially to the grave. Inevitably to the grave, really. Luke shifted in his seat, the movement jerky from the pain of his stiff body. He didn’t even want to look at Elyana now. He simply clenched his jaw and ignored everything. It didn’t matter. Melania was gone.

“I know that we’re all going to have a lot of feelings about this,” Elyana said.

“Some more than others,” one of Luke’s roommates said snidely.

Luke’s jaw clenched and he leveled the other man with a dark glare. The other man didn’t back down or even look remorseful and that just set Luke further on edge. Before Luke could say something stupid—or do something even stupider that could get him kicked out of treatment—Elyana interrupted the two.

“This is a moment that we all need to pay attention to. Really. All of us should,” she said, looking over the crowd, ever so careful to not look at Luke which set him even more on edge, impressively. “There’s a reason that the program encourages us to stay out of personal relationships the first year. We’re still getting to know ourselves. We’re starting to learn what our true values are. And we have to learn—”

“Learn to love ourselves before we love others, yeah I get it,” Luke said sharply. “And that’s all well and good. But Mel and I…we’re not in a relationship. That’s not…not what was happening. We were friends.”

Finally, Elyana looked over at him, face annoyingly serene and stoic in the way that it always was. Luke grit his teeth. “Any kind of relationship. We can get real close to people in recovery,” she said calmly.

“Yeah, but we’re friends. What? Do you…how the fuck do you expect people to get through this shit show without friends?” he demanded, harsher than he even intended.

“We don’t,” Elyana said simply. “The problem…one of the biggest issues that can sometimes happen though? And I’m not saying this about you, Luke, so don’t worry.” He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. His nails dug into his jeans and he looked away again. God his whole fucking body hurt. “We can start to hang our recovery on someone else instead of on ourselves. And you lean too hard on another addict?” Elyana let out an uncharacteristic snort and the mask of calm cracked. Not a lot, just enough for Luke to remember that, oh yeah, she’s like him…just another addict trying her best. “Well shit, we didn’t all end up in here because we’re so reliable, did we? So, we can’t do that to ourselves. We have to stay clean for us. And others have to do the same. It doesn’t mean a damn thing about us if someone else relapses and uses again. But in that first year?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like it’s your fault.”

Luke jerkily stood, his legs aching from the movement and he started to walk. No destination in mind. He just had to get the fuck out of group goddamn therapy. He muttered a half-hearted, half-formed excuse that he wouldn’t have been shocked if someone said he hadn’t said a single real word as he blurted it.

“Luke,” Elyana called.

“I’m fine,” Luke said, waving his hand, the feeling painful as though the muscles in his hand couldn’t sustain the tiny movement.

“Luke,” Elyana called again.

Luke picked up the pace. “I’m fine. I’m just getting some air. Lots of feelings like you said, right?” And with that half-hearted excuse, he ran from the situation like the coward he always knew he was.

He returned to his room—really, there was nowhere else to go—and removed the note from his pocket like it was burning a hole there. His chest was heaving, breath coming out short. It felt like when he was ten and was forced to run a mile right after lunch, including the urge to vomit. Still, he swallowed it down, shifting uncomfortably back and forth. He unfolded the small piece of paper and looked at the words again, burning them into his mind. Everything hurt—his body, his head and he was starting to feel cold. So fucking cold.

Don’t follow me!

Don’t follow me!

Don’t follow me!

There was a voice in Luke’s head—one that sounded so much like Aemond it hurt him. And the faux voice of his easily most judgmental brother told him in no uncertain terms that he shouldn’t follow Melania. He should listen to the note. He should focus on himself. That his sobriety, like Elyana said, was his responsibility and it had to be his first priority. He blew out a deep breath and turned to the small closet in the room. He was singularly focused now. His mind was made up.

Luke was nothing if not a bleeding heart.

The hallucination of Helaena had told him to go.

He put the note down on the desk.

Without letting himself think too much more about it, and ignoring the mental warning that this was a terrible idea, Luke reached into his closet and grabbed his hoodie, slinging it on. He knew immediately that taking the door wasn’t an option. If he saw Elyana’s face, he’d fold immediately. He turned to the window and groaned before letting out a string of curses. He pulled it open as wide as he could then lifted the screen too. He leaned heavily against the window sill, thinking about his already aching body. He let out another final series of curses.

Then, Luke started to hoist himself out the window.

“What are you fucking twelve, Lucerys?” he muttered to himself, shimmying through the small space. “I’m getting way too fucking old for this shit.” Once out of the room—and a little more out of breath than he’d like to admit—he shut the window and then pulled down the screen. He paused for a moment, looking back into the room from the outside. “This is a bad fucking idea.”

Still, Luke turned and started walking.

His first stop was a pay phone a few blocks away. He found a few quarters on the ground and a few in his pockets and used them to make a phone call to Helaena. With his aching neck and painfully stiff body, his dream was the only thing on his mind. He listened to the phone as it rang and rang and rang until he heard it switch over to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Helaena,” came the bright voice of his sister. “Sorry, I can’t get to the phone.” He faintly heard a voice in the background—he knew that it was Theo, her husband…the one he’d only gotten to meet a few times because of his incredible life choices. He heard Helaena’s bell-like laugh in response to whatever he’d said, and Luke’s heart ached for a moment. “Please leave a message after the beep.”

Moments later, when the beep sounded, Luke almost found himself incapable of words. Even breathing seemed painful at the moment, almost like air couldn’t really get into his lungs fully. He cleared his throat and shook his head which made him dizzy for a moment and then remembered he had to speak if he wanted Helaena to know it was him. Then again, even if he didn’t Luke knew that she’d know it was him. She always did.

“Hey, it’s…uh, it’s me. I…Hellie…I had a moment last night. Umm…one of those. You, well…you know what I’m talking about,” he managed to say. He rubbed absently at his neck, trying to abate some of the irritation and pain he was feeling. “So, I…uh, I just wanted to call you. Check in and make sure that, umm, that you’re okay.” He glanced around him, looking at the people he was surrounded with. “I don’t…I don’t have a phone. You won’t be able to reach me at the center right now. But…you…you can call me there. Call…call there and leave a message for me. I should be back there by…by tonight. I just have to find a friend.” Realizing how that sounded, Luke hurried on. “And don’t…don’t worry about me, Hellie. I’m…I’m fine. I promise you. I just…uh…I just needed to make sure you were okay. You…you know.” He cleared his throat. “Y-yeah, okay. Bye Hellie, just…call me.”

He hung up the phone, his hand falling down from the receiver and he looked over his shoulder again. He winced at the pain in his neck and reached up to rub at it again, desperately trying to eliminate some of the ache and failing miserably. He slid away from the phone, shuffling his feet, and plopped down on an empty bench. He looked around again at the people in this once-basketball court that had clearly been taken over by a group of homeless people. His eyes moved fluidly around, his body stiffening not just from pain now but also habitually as he realized he wasn’t safe anymore. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, watching as some people exchanged small bags in the least discrete way he’d maybe ever seen.

For a long, drawn-out moment, he considered getting up. He considered walking over to the guy who was obviously the dealer. And he considered getting something. But, for the first time in his life—and not just because he had no money—Luke didn’t move towards the dealer. He didn’t let himself linger on it. He cast his eyes around, looking to see if Melania was around. He didn’t see her.

Something did catch his eye though.

Standing amongst the people who were sitting, talking, relaxing—living their own damn lives to their heart’s content—he saw someone. Someone who didn’t make sense…who didn’t…belong there? His brow furrowed slightly and a chill ran up his body. There was a man, standing as if he were facing someone who was sitting on the ground. He had on a dark peacoat that hung perfectly on his body. He had on dark slacks and a bowler hat. From seeing only his back, he could tell that the man was holding something in front of him. Perhaps just resting his hands on something actually. A cane, his mind provided easily.

Something started itching in Luke’s mind.

There was a well of fear bubbling up in him, stuck in his throat. He felt like his whole body was seizing up with not just the bizarre pain now but the fear too. He was stuck…trapped in his own body. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Quite suddenly, Luke was drawn out of this panic-induced freeze response by a dog barking. He flinched at the sound and looked in front of him. A mangy-looking street dog barked at him, seemingly until it got his attention. Then, it barked a few more times for good measure while Luke’s heart rate steadied from the shock. And, just as quickly as the dog had apparently appeared, it disappeared once more, running off to cause chaos elsewhere and bark at a different, unsuspecting, maybe hallucinating victim.

Luke decidedly didn’t want to scratch.

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

Luke had been dreaming something pleasant. Something so pleasant that it almost tasted sweet, if that were possible. And being ripped out of something so pleasant was just made worse when he awoke to the furious barking of dogs. It sounded like there was a whole pack of them right outside of the house. Luke winced at the sound, his eyes trailing over to the other bed in the room. He could just barely make out Helaena’s form with his blurred, still sleepy vision. She was still sleeping; that was good at least.

Luke laid his head back down, tired. But, he knew that while the dogs were barking, he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep. Plus, his nice dreams had already fled. So, annoyed for himself, he huffed and turned in his bed so he was staring at the ceiling instead of lying on his side. And like that, Luke waited.

Within a few more moments, the dogs stopped barking.

Relieved that he may now be able to get some sleep, Luke closed his eyes. They didn’t stay closed for very long though. He sat up, his back almost perfectly straight when he heard the sound of something hitting the ground in the hall every few seconds. It wasn’t a terribly loud sound, no. It was far more…subtle than that. And, despite every instinct in Luke’s body, for once in his life…curiosity won out over anxiety.

Slowly, Luke peeled himself from the comfort and safety of his bed. He crept silently over to the door. He opened it as quietly as he could, doing it slowly to make sure that it didn’t creak. He glanced over at Helaena and found her still asleep. So, he took a small step out of the room. He turned his head to the right and saw nothing that would explain the rhythmic tapping noise. Resigned, he turned his head to the left.

Immediately, his eyes widened.

Fear struck his heart.

Luke’s feet suddenly felt like lead. He looked in silent horror at the sight before him. There was a man—if Luke could call him that—who seemed nearly ten feet tall. He was tall and lanky and hovering above the ground by nearly a foot. His skin was shades of white and grey that were terrifying to Luke for reasons he couldn’t really fathom. His head was bald and bright, offsetting his dark blazer and pants, making him startlingly easy to see in the darkness. And the thing that caught Luke’s attention last was the long cane in his hands—long enough to compensate for the man’s unnatural height. The cane was the only part of him that touched the ground. That cane of this…this ghost man…it was responsible for the rhythmic thumps that Luke had heard.

The ghost man, it seemed, was looking for something, and had not yet found it in his journey down the hall. He was drifting to doors, opening them, and looking in. As he closed the door to Aemond’s room—the closest room to his and Helaena’s—Luke’s heart kicked into overdrive. Then, as the ghost man turned, likely to continue its journey or search or whatever he was doing, Luke’s brain kicked back in. Luckily though, his feet moved even faster than his brain had.

Luke was back in his room within moments and had shut the door as silently as he had opened it. Despite the erratic beating of his heart and the slight tremble to his hands, he was silent. He would not wake Helaena; not if it meant that she’d potentially see this thing. He backed away slowly from the door, staring at it with a fear like he’d never experienced before. He heard the rhythmic tapping once more—the only indication that the ghost man was approaching—and he turned immediately, spurred back into action. He dove not into his bed, but rather, underneath it. It felt safer somehow than the alternative. He made his way under the bed, shoving himself as far back and close to the wall as he could possibly manage while still being able to see the door.

His breath was coming out uneven already, but it spiked even more as the tapping of the cane grew louder. Then, he watched the knob of the door turn. The door swung open fluidly and silently. He saw the feet hovering above the ground and the wooden cane continued to move the ghost man forward. Luke watched with trepidation as the specter moved into the room between the two beds. He narrowly resisted the urge to scream, to warn Helaena, or try to get the thing away from his sister.

Despite his silence, it seemed this wish was answered anyway. The ghost man turned fluidly toward Luke and approached his bed. Luke swallowed as best he could with what felt like the rock stuck in his throat. And, despite how dramatic it seemed, for a moment, Lucerys Targaryen-Hightower was fully accepting of the fact that he may die by ghost right now at the ripe age of six. But, then, miraculously, not a moment later, the specter turned. He caught sight of the shadow of the ghost man in the room—and how strange it was to Luke that it had a shadow at all—and watched, mystified, as it put a hat on its head.

The bowler hat.

The hat Luke had taken.

The ghost began to move towards the door once more. And apparently, this was the moment that Luke’s brain decided to fail him spectacularly. He had been holding his breath unbeknownst to him, and as the ghost man stood in the door, he let out a shaky breath. Dread filled Luke’s little body as he watched the ghost turn and move fluidly back toward his bed. Again, Luke accepted that he might die by ghost now. This time, the specter reached its long arm down, its terribly long fingers curling around the edge of the blanket that kept Luke carefully out of sight. And as the ghost lifted it, he also lowered his head.

Luke’s brain went white as his eyes took in the ghost before him. A terrible sight he was, indeed. His eyes were both hollow and dark. His mouth was stretched into a line, not a smile nor a frown and he looked at Luke as though he could see right through to the core of him.

Luke, in that moment, felt pure terror for the first time in his life.

With the rock in his throat gone, and with breath in his lungs, the boy did the only thing that made sense.

He screamed.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

It was nighttime now and something was eating away at Luke—aside from not being able to find Melania. He heard the screeching of tires and he turned his head to the side as he saw a man cursing out another man who had been crossing the street. Both of the men were stupid, Luke decided. LA was stupid, Luke decided. And he also decided it didn’t fucking matter anyway. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center himself and focus.

Throughout the whole day, Luke had gotten much colder. So much colder. The temperature had remained the same he was pretty sure, but suddenly even the fairly warm October day in Los Angeles felt terribly chill. His body too had grown stiffer. He could, in his mind at least, attribute some of it to the walking around that he’d done. He had spent what felt like endless time searching all the spots that Melania had stated she’d previously gone to in order to score. She hadn’t been at any of them. But, going from seedy area to seedy area of the city had taken a toll on Luke. He was exhausted and everything hurt and he just wanted to go to bed. But it didn’t matter. He had done all this. He had to find Melania.

Luke turned his eyes away from the street and back towards the park he’d settled himself in. By some stroke of luck, a miracle if he’d ever experienced any—he saw a familiar-shaped figure approaching a guy who was clearly a dealer as he leaned against a fence. Luke’s eyes widened as he watched money and bags be exchanged fairly subtly. Then, as the figure turned, he caught sight of familiar blonde hair beneath a dark hoodie.

Melania.

It was her.

Luke was on his feet before he knew what to do with himself. For a moment, his bones felt strangely like glass, strangely out of place and wrong. But, that was easy to ignore with the promise before him. He’d done this. He’d done something good. He just had to finish it—he just had to get them back to the center. He walked with purpose over towards her, and, clearly sensing someone approaching, Melania turned towards him, a defensive look on her face.

The look disappeared the moment that she saw Luke. She looked heartbroken for a moment, disappointed for a moment, and then resigned and tired for another moment. Luke drank it all in, looking her over concerned. The moment suspended in silence did not last long. It was broken first with a sigh from Melania.

“Hey,” Luke said quietly, knowing that she wasn’t going to speak.

“Hey,” Melania said, frowning. “How’d you know where to find me?”

Luke let out a dry, humorless chuckle, his own lips turned down in a frown. “I know your spots,” he said simply.

At that, Melania crumbled. Genuinely and honestly crumbled. Her face collapsed into pure and painful grief and fear. Her hands immediately moved to cover her eyes and she curled into herself. Luke’s feet carried him forward. His own pain was irrelevant when hers was so obviously clear to his face. He reached out, his hands on her shoulders and he squeezed comfortingly.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay, Mel. It’s okay.” He brought her into his chest and hugged her tightly, feeling the way her arms tightened around his waist immediately.

Her whole body shook as she silently cried. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say. The words shocked Luke; he didn’t know why they did…but, they did.

“Come on. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, effectively stopping her from saying anything else.

It took maybe twenty minutes for Luke to get her to calm down. Then, using the few quarters he still had left, he made a call to the rehab center, Melania leaning against the fence now, hunched in on herself looking sad.

“Reflections Rehab and Recovery, this is Elyana speaking, how may I help you?” came the perpetually calm voice of Elyana on the other line.

“It’s me. It’s me Elyana, it’s Luke,” he said without preamble. “I found her. I found Mel. We’re coming back. We can be there soon. We can be there in like twenty minutes. I promise.”

There was silence for a moment on the other end. Immediately, even before the woman spoke, Luke knew what she was going to say. “This isn’t a hotel, Luke,” she pointed out, not unkindly. “You know that. And you know that we’re full up. We need beds for people who actually want to get well. You run? You give up your spot. That’s the way that it is. That’s what you agreed to.” Again, she wasn’t being unkind, but it didn’t remove the sting from the words.

Luke held the phone tighter in his hand and leaned heavily against it. “Please, Elyana. Please. I’m begging you,” he said, not remorseful of how pathetic it sounded as he begged.

“Your best bet is going to be a shelter, Luke,” Elyana said, her voice having a hint of finality in it.

Luke grit his teeth. “That’s the last place that she should be. She’ll pick up…” Luke’s voice trailed off. He looked at Melania who was resolutely not looking at him or listening to the conversation he was having. “She already is…” He couldn’t finish either sentence it seemed, his mouth gluing itself shut. He let out a slow sigh. “Look…Elyana…I just…I need a place where she can come down safe.”

“Ah fuck, Luke,” Elyana said, her voice far more real for a moment. And not for the first time today Luke remembered that she too was just like them. She too was an addict; she just had a fuck ton more time of sobriety under her belt. “I…I’m sorry. But, you did it to yourselves.”

Having both expected and dreaded that answer, Luke hung up without another word. “Fuck,” he cursed quietly to himself. Then, he walked over to Melania who knew the answer just by the look on his face. Still, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mel. Elyana said no. She…the rules.”

Melania let out a slow sigh, looking down at the ground. “No. She, uh, she’s right. I knew the rules when I left,” she said.

“Still, Mel…fuck,” Luke muttered.

She watched as Luke rubbed at his still-aching neck. The veins in his hands were standing out too, cramping in pain—something that made no sense to see on him seeing as he openly admitted to shooting up using absolutely every vein on his body that he could, including his hands that he’d no doubt blown. Her brow furrowed as she watched him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stupidly when she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Luke replied absent-mindedly, immediately dropping his hand. “I just…I slept on it funny last night. I’m fine.” A lie, his body screamed at him. Something was wrong, his mind added unhelpfully. As he often did, he ignored both of them.

Melania’s face crumpled again for a moment and she covered her eyes with a hand. “I told you not to follow me. Why did you follow me, Luke? I didn’t want this for you,” she said, somewhere between despairing and angry. She sniffled. “I’m sorry.” She wiped at her nose. “I mean…I just…you gotta go back. I fucked up but that doesn’t mean that you have to.”

“I’m not gonna,” Luke said easily. He looked at her. “I got…I got an idea. If I can get you a hotel or motel then—”

Melania’s eyes lit up in a way that Luke recognized.

Truly he did.

But he willfully ignored it.

“Do you have money?” she interrupted.

“No,” Luke replied.

“Can you get money?” she asked before Luke could say anything else, bouncing on her heels as she did. “What about your sister or your brothers? Do you think that you can call them?”

Luke held up a hand to stop her, the pain in his body mounting at the thought of even talking to a sibling right now after his colossal fuck up of leaving treatment. He was ninety days clean, sure. And he had other priorities. But he knew how it’d look to them. He knew. And he was so sick of disappointing them all.

“No. Stop,” he said shortly. He took a deep breath. “I’ll…I’ll get us some, okay?” He cleared his throat and scrubbed his hand down his face, exhaustion filling his body with the same ferocity as the pain. “I’ll…I’m gonna fix this, Mel. I’ll get us a place to stay tonight and tomorrow too.” He looked over at her, his face genuine and earnest. “And I’m gonna get you clean again. Not gonna leave you. I’ll be right here. Right here with you. All the way. Just like you were for me. Okay?”

Mel’s face distorted. “I wasn’t with you through detox,” she pointed out.

“But you would’ve been,” Luke said, confident in his words. “And I will be for you.” He nodded with conviction. “And we’re gonna find a new place. I promise.” He blew out a sigh and looked at her. “You got anything left?”

“Yeah,” Mel said.

She reached into her pocket and fished out a few crumpled bills. About fifty bucks. Not nearly enough, but it’d have to be good enough. He feigned joy at the sight. Really, he didn’t know how much further his body would carry him but he knew it didn’t matter—he had to keep going.

“Alright, yeah perfect. This should get us most of the way,” he said, nodding. “Come on.” He moved and looked back at her. “Come on.”

They walked in silence for a few moments until Melania spoke again. “You’ve got some balls, Luke. I’ll give you that,” she commented. He glanced over at her, brow raised and she laughed before clarifying. “How long did you wait this morning? You know, before hopping the wall?”

“Oh, not long,” Luke snorted. “Busted out during group. I didn’t like the way people were looking at me.” His nose crinkled in distaste at the thought of it. He glanced over at Melania and smirked. “I know you’d have loved to see it. I fucking went through the window like a teenager sneaking out. Stupid as fuck. I felt like an idiot.” He blew out a sigh. “Never felt more my age either.”

“You say that like you’re old, Luke. You’re, what, thirty?” she snorted.

“Thirty-two excuse you. Don’t steal my aged wisdom,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah, my apologies,” she said, equally sarcastic. “Still, you’re right. I would’ve paid to see you crawling out through a window like some dumbass kid. I’m sure you were cursing like a fucking sailor to boot.”

“Hell fucking yeah, I was. That shit hurt,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you are an old man,” she joked.

“Fuck off, like I said, I just slept bad,” he said. He ignored the pangs of pain in his body that seemed to only emphasize what he’d just said.

She snorted. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely old,” she mocked. With startling quickness—a result of her body being high for the first time in almost a year, he imagined—her emotions shifted. She looked up at him, eyes shining with tears that felt truly genuine. “I still can’t believe that you came after me.”

“Well, my sister kind of told me to,” he said without thought. He also ignored the fact that a voice like Aemond told him not to.

“Hmm?” Mel asked, looking at him startled.

“No, no. Not really,” he said hastily. He scratched at his aching neck. The whole thing hurt for a moment like it had when he woke up and he cleared his throat hoping to make some of the pain abate. “She, uh, we’re kind of in each other’s heads, I guess. It’s been like that since we were kids.” He shrugged. “It’s a twin thing.”

“But you said that you’re not actually twins,” Melania pointed out, recalling that conversation from months ago easily, even now.

“We’re not,” he confirmed. “We were born the same day, though. Minutes apart. In the same hospital. One room from each other. And our moms…they…they had us together from the moment that we were in the nursery. We’d both been born a few weeks early. They were worried so they had us in the NICU. We cried and cried, I guess until they moved us next to each other. I guess even then they knew. And then our moms were visiting us and picked one of us up. The other would start screaming the second that they weren’t near us. Wouldn’t stop until we were together again. So…no…don’t have the same parents at all. But…we are twins.”

“Got it,” Melania said, nodding as she mulled that over. She was an only child. She had no idea what something like that would possibly feel like. That kind of love and devotion was fundamentally so far from what she’d ever experienced that the thought of it made her feel a little bit nauseous.

“You know, once I broke my foot. I was doing fuck knows what…something absolutely stupid, I’m sure. Don’t even remember. But…Hellie called me a few minutes later and she was just freaking out. She said she was watching TV and her ankle just went nuts. Hurt like hell. She had no idea why. She iced it for an hour afterward before it started to calm down. Conveniently, that was also when I’d gotten doped up at the hospital,” he said. He looked over at Melania giving a self-depreciating grin. “They didn’t realize they were dealing with a lying, bullshit artist of an addict until the next day.” He shrugged. “Either way, Hel knew what was going on and she just…she called immediately. Doubt she even realized what she was doing at first. And she was pissed when I told her I hurt myself.”

“Bullshit,” Melania said, eyes wide. “No fucking way.”

“No, really,” Luke insisted. “It’s a true story. Not the only time something like that has happened, but it was the craziest, I think.” He chuckled despite himself, sobering after a few moments. “You know…there are some times where…where you really remind me of her. And she…” He trailed off, blowing out a sigh so he didn’t get overly emotional and feel like an absolute idiot for it. “She has always believed in me. Even when no one else did. Like…the rest of my family? Not so much. But…her? Always. And the only other person who has ever believed in me like that was you, Mel.”

Melania was overwhelmed by Luke’s words—by his kindness. All she could think to do was let out a weak chuckle. “Still. You didn’t have to come,” she mumbled, staring down at the pavement below.

“Of course, I came. It’s what you would’ve done for me,” he said.

And when Luke said it that way, it sounded so simple. It sounded easy and true. The words fell from his mouth without even a moment of hesitation. It made something ugly claw in Melania’s chest and she grimaced at the thought of it. They lapsed into easy silence after that—as easy as she could manage at least—while he hailed them a cab. As promised, it got them most of the way to their destination. Only when they exited the cab and she saw the neighborhood did she figure out where they were. Instead of that ugly feeling, hope started clawing at her chest. Not an honest, good sort of hope, though. A darker one, a more desperate one.

She turned when she heard a quiet curse from Luke and she watched as he pulled his hoodie closer around himself as though he couldn’t get far enough into it—as if he were extremely uncomfortable. Again, her brow furrowed as she looked at the man before her. He didn’t even seem to notice her staring and so she broke the silence between them.

“You okay?” she asked, not for the first time.

“Yeah,” Luke lied easily, ignoring the pain as best he could when this creeping ice seemed to be taking over his body—like a sickness almost, but it felt…different somehow. “I don’t know. I’m just…I’m, uh, I’m really fucking cold is all.” He cleared his throat and his feet stopped moving. He looked up at the house before him—three stories, picket fucking fence perfect—and felt nothing but dread encasing his whole damn body. He blew out a sigh and cast his eyes over Melania. “You should stay back. I don’t want her to see your eyes, okay?”

“Yeah,” Melania agreed easily.

“She’ll know, okay?” Luke emphasized, needing her to understand.

“Yeah,” Melania agreed, not caring particularly what she was agreeing to when she started to feel the effects wearing off of whatever she’d taken earlier—she hadn’t even cared enough to ask, she forked over cash and snorted whatever she’d been given.

“She always fucking knows,” Luke said, breaking from her side to bound up to the front door.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock. He heard dogs barking from far down the street and he flinched instinctually at the sound. Then, his hand unfurled and he pressed the doorbell instead, hearing it ring. It didn’t take ten seconds for the door to open and he pasted on his best approximation of a smile that he could give with the overwhelming pain and cold of his body. Then, met the quizzical eyes of his sister-in-law.

“Luke,” Sara said cautiously, looking him up and down.

“Hey Sara,” he greeted. “How you doing?”

“I…uh…this…this is a surprise,” Sara said before chuckling. She looked him over again and was pleased to see that he wasn’t high even though he did look absolutely wrecked. Silently, she wondered if he was sick. She prayed it was that and not just him detoxing—last she’d heard he was in rehab still. “Uh, what are you…” She trailed off and shook her head. “How are you, Luke?”

Luke shrugged, giving a half-hearted answer. “I’m good. Really good actually.” He gave her a small smile. “Ninety days good, in fact.” His hand made its way to his pocket and he fished out the chip he’d almost forgotten he’d gotten the day before. “Ninety-one actually. Almost ninety-two now.” He let out a short chuckle, letting Sara see it before he put it hastily back away.

“That’s really great, Luke,” she offered, giving him a soft smile. She’d always loved him—Luke was sweet. He was a good person when he wasn’t robbing his family blind. And she felt bad for him…for the pain he was in. “I can tell. You look different. A little…a little sick though.”

“I think I’m coming down with a cold,” he confirmed. “Got this chill today that I just…haven’t been able to shake.” He cleared his throat. “But, uh, thank you. I got a day pass,” he conveniently pretended like it wasn’t pitch black outside already and that night wasn’t quickly encroaching on them almost like a threat,” and so I was just wondering if, uh, if Jace were here? So…is he?”

Sara’s face went cold for a second and then settled into neutrality. “No, he isn’t,” she said.

Luke didn’t pick up on the hint. “Well, is he, uh, is he coming back soon? I was looking to talk to him about something.”

Sara closed her eyes, suddenly very angry at Jacaerys Targaryen-Hightower in a way that she hadn’t let herself be for…at least a week now. “Oh my…he didn’t tell you,” she muttered.

Luke certainly picked up on that. “Didn’t tell me what?” he asked cautiously, suddenly keenly aware that he’d missed something here.

“No, Jace isn’t coming back soon. Maybe ever, actually,” Sara said dryly, opening her eyes again. “He doesn’t live here anymore, Luke.”

Luke was stunned. “Wait…what? Wait…what?”

Sara shrugged. “We separated a month ago.”

Luke stared at her like she’d just told him that the moon was made of fucking cheese. “What? Why?” he asked, aware that he, for a moment, sounded like a petulant younger brother. Luckily, Sara was used to Luke and knew he meant well.

“I really don’t wanna get into that,” Sara said. She saw that Luke was about to pivot and she sighed. “Luke, you need to go back to the center.” He opened his mouth and she held up her hand. “I can’t give you anything, Luke. You know I can’t.”

“It’d be for a hotel, Sar, nothing else,” he said. “Like I said. Over ninety days now. I…I don’t even want to get high. I just want to go back.” He let out a shaky sigh. “Sar, please.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she said sadly.

“Can you just…give me Jace’s address then?” he asked, trying not to come off as desperate even though he knew he was.

Sara’s eyebrows drew together at his words. If he didn’t have the address that means he hasn’t talked to Jace in at least a month. And that, while not particularly surprising, wasn’t a good sign. She felt bad for the brothers in wildly different ways. And she hated that again Jace was somehow making her have to be the bad guy here…the bearer of bad news.

“Sar, please,” Luke begged, eyes wide as he pleaded with his sister-in-law.

She sighed and held up her hand. She turned to the entryway table and picked up the pen that lay there next to a tiny pad of paper. She scribbled down Jace’s new address. She tore the paper off and handed it to Luke, a grave look on her face.

“You know what he’s going to say if you ask for money,” she said to Luke. He nodded jerkily. “And I’m…he has much bigger things to discuss with you if you go.” He nodded again. “I can’t do this right now—things are bad enough, Luke.” She sighed. “Look…I’m proud of you. Really, I am. So proud. You know I love you, Luke. I just…can’t… You gotta talk to Jacaerys.” She shook her head. “And I think he’s out of town anyways.”

“I…I’m sorry, Sara,” Luke said, nodding in understanding as he took the small piece of paper from her and stared at the address thinking of the quickest, easiest way to get there.

“Yeah, me too, Luke. Take care of yourself, okay?” she posed. She glanced back at Melania and then looked at Luke seriously. “Don’t throw away ninety because someone else threw it away, okay? I like seeing you better.” She touched his skin for a moment, aiming to squeeze his hand, and hissed because his hand felt like ice. “And fuck…you are cold, Luke.” Silently cursing herself and her bleeding heart for the fucking Targaryen-Hightower family, she moved back inside and fished a fifty dollar bill from her wallet. “Get to Jace’s if that’s where you’re going. Like I said, he might not be there. And if he isn’t, go to a shelter. You need to warm up Luke, you feel like a corpse, you're so damn cold.”

Luke let out a dry chuckle without any humor behind it. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Feel stiff as a board too today. Guess I’m getting old after all.” Sara rolled her eyes at him, far fonder than he deserved if Luke had any opinion on it. He let out a sigh. “Bye, Sara. I…I’m sorry.”

“Bye, Luke,” she said. She shut the door then.

For just a moment, a split second, Luke caught sight of the dining room table in the house. And it was as if he could see Melania sitting there laughing. It was a better time. A brighter time. A better memory. He was only thirty days clean at the time and had an actual day pass. And Melania was kind enough to come with him and make sure he actually went to his brother’s house and didn’t nosedive into the deep end and get high somewhere instead.

Two months.

A hell of a lot could change in two months.

A hell of a lot did change in the last two months.

“You’re not serious,” Sara laughed, giving a smile to Jace as he brought the dessert into the room, balancing that on one hand and serving plates on the other.

“I am, I am,” Melania confirmed, laughing along with her.

Luke merely smiled looking between two of the only three women in Luke’s life that had shown him kindness in the past…oh…decade now—not counting his mother, if he could call her that…which he didn’t. He nodded along to Melania’s story and then when Sara looked over at him for confirmation he nodded again. She really was telling the truth.

“Really, they’ll hang a toy phone around your neck!” Melania explained, gesticulating as if to show how the toy would hang. “And they make you wear it all day. Sometimes longer. Depends on how bad you’ve been.”

“Like a child’s toy phone?” Jace asked, just to be sure, as he sat down. Having missed half the conversation in the kitchen, Luke wasn’t shocked that he wanted a little clarity.

“Yes,” Melania confirmed, nodding. “God, they treat it like the Scarlet Letter. Everyone knows that you violated the phone rule.” She made a show of shaking her head and tutting. “For shame, for shame. Improper use of a phone has been done and let this be a chilling example to the others of what will be done if they do the same.”

All four people at the table laughed. Luke looked over at Melania, a soft feeling settling in his stomach that made him almost immediately look away. He knew that Jace had caught it though based on the way that his brother had focused entirely on his face now, his expression carefully blank. Luke artfully inserted himself into the conversation to avoid his brother’s critical look.

“You, uh, you just can’t make calls in the first thirty days unless a caseworker signs off,” Luke explained before Melania got into it. He glanced over at Sara. “Hence the radio silence until now. But, they said I was a good little boy and let me head off today.” He kicked half-heartedly at Melania under the table without thinking about it. “Let me bring this one with me. Luckily, she’d warned me about the phone rule though. So, I wasn’t the one walking around like a dumbass—she’d already done that before me. Just wish I’d gotten to see it.”

“It’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” Sara asked as she handed over plates of dessert to the pair that Jace had apparently served already.

“Not as harsh as an overdose,” Melania said bluntly. “Believe me, for a lot of people in rehab? A rule like that? It’s for the best. A rule like that? It saves lives.”

“Addicts…we’re…uh…we’re pretty slippery in early recovery,” Luke explained. He gave a self-deprecating smile and gestured to himself. “I mean look at me. I didn’t even believe in myself enough to not bring a failsafe with me.” He gestured then to Melania. “That’s why they confiscate phones in early recovery, you know? In case someone was to call a connection or anything like that. Me? Probably would’ve called a dealer…or at least tried to see if any of them haven’t blocked me.”

Sara and Jace exchanged a look—carefully non-judgmental. It made Luke’s skin crawl a little bit. “What if you want to call your mom, though?” Sara asked.

Melania let out a breezy laugh, bringing the attention back to herself and squarely off Luke. She was a saint. Truly. “For some folks in there, their connection is their mom.” At the baffled look on both Jace’s and Sara’s faces, she nodded. “Seriously. It’s true.” She cleared her throat and looked at Jace. “So, uh, Luke tells me you’re a writer. What, uh, what kind of stuff do you write? What’s your…your muse?”

“Surprised he mentioned it,” Jace said, shockingly and unnecessarily honest. “I, uh, I write about haunted houses, mostly. And….and haunted people.” He gave a sharp sort of grin to Melania. It made Luke shift nervously and made Sara give him a warning glance. “Afraid that there’s no shortage of them.”

“Definitely not,” Melania agreed easily, not taking the bait and breezing right along. “That must run in the family though—the talent I mean. Luke’s, like, a great writer too.”

Jace raised a brow and glanced over at Luke. First he’d ever heard of it. “Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, no, I’m not. Still much prefer to draw,” Luke denied uncomfortably.

“Yeah, well, you’re absolutely amazing at that too,” Melania granted. “But stop selling yourself short.” She looked at Sara instead of Jace this time. “He’s really talented. Like seriously.” She looked back to Luke, looping him back into the conversation. “You should show them the short story you did…the-the…the one about the imaginary friend in the garden.” Jace let out an amused sort of noise and she looked over at him while Luke cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, do you know that one, Jace?”

“Ah,” he confirmed. “Lyanna.”

“Yeah,” Melania confirmed, smiling as she nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Yeah, I put her in one of my books too,” Jace said conversationally. He let out a chuckle that was far more bitter than he’d intended for it to be. “But, something tells me that Luke won’t get as much blowback for his as I did.”

“Jace,” Sara hissed quietly.

“It’s just an essay,” Luke said stiffly. “It’s not…anything, you know? Just something I did.”

Melania rolled her eyes. “Please, I keep telling him he should publish it. Off his name alone. He could get himself a sweet place like this one day off royalties or whatever the hell they’re called I’m sure,” she said. “I mean, seriously! You got it all here. This is amazing. Where do you even go from here.” She glanced around. “Fill this place with some kids, I guess, but there ain’t much else you could do, I don’t think.”

Sara cleared her throat and looked down at her plate and Jace’s jaw clenched and unclenched. “So, is this your first rehab, Melania?” Jace asked, far more abruptly than he’d initially intended to.

“God no,” she denied, taking it off the chin easily. “Far from it. Some of us are addicted to treatment centers just as much as the drugs, huh?”

Jace nodded. “Not Luke’s first rodeo either.” He looked between the two addicts, an analytical sort of look in his eyes that put Luke’s teeth on edge. “So, what’s different this time? Something must be, right? I mean, you know, the definition of insanity.”

The table moved slightly making it perfectly clear that Sara had kicked Jace’s shin. “Jacaerys,” she warned.

“No, it’s cool, it’s cool. I get it,” Melania said, brushing it off. “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. It sounds insane. Sure man, sure. I see that. But…the thing is it isn’t like that for addicts. Not at all. Each rehab place is different. Hell, each day is different even at the same place. Nothing’s the same. Every craving is different. Every meeting too. It’s just…it sounds insane unless you’re living it as an addict.” Melania shrugged. “They make meetings for family members of addicts and stuff. I’m sure…I’m sure if you went to those, none of those would feel the same either. Even when people have the same story—being an addict…knowing an addict—the end result isn’t the same.”

“Right, right. I’m not trying to suggest you’re not taking it seriously,” Jace granted.

“No, I get it, like I said,” Melania said, far more gracious than she needed to be. She had seven months sober now though; seven months clean of everything. Things felt different this time. They really did. “I just…this time around, speaking for myself, I’ve got more support. I’m giving more support.” She gestured over to Luke. “So yeah, in a sense, it looks like the same thing over and over again.” Her face looked grim then, eyes drifting slightly, mind with it. “But in rehab it…it isn’t insanity. On the streets? That is fucking insanity. Living that…if you could call it living…that’s what insanity is.”

“Of course,” Jace said, voice far softer than before, even though his eyes hadn’t softened much.

“But you know…I guess…for me at least, that’s what recovery is. What it’s turned into. It’s the same damn thing over and over again. And it’s in spite of the results or…or in spite of a backslide or in spite of even a whole goddamn full-fledged nightmarish relapse.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you stop just because it gets a little repetitive. One day at a time. We decide…when we decide to get clean, it…it isn’t because we expect it to be exciting. It’s not that. Never that. We do it to…” She shook her head when she trailed off. “We do it because maybe, just maybe, one day…five…ten years down the line we might be sitting here like you. We might be on a path to living a life beyond our wildest fucking dreams. So…we don’t do it because it’s exciting. We do it for a hope that, fuck, maybe there’s a better tomorrow for us. And maybe we can fix everything…or at least some of the things we fucked up along the way. Because believe me…we all fuck up along the way.”

The room went still and quiet for a few moments.

Unsurprisingly, Sara was the one to break it, turning back to Melania and starting up a different conversation. There was a bit more stilted talking between the group. Eventually, though, Sara and Melania went to sit and chat in their living room leaving Jace and Luke to clean up the remnants of their meal.

“Is it normal to bring a friend home on a day pass?” Jace asked, going for casual as they started cleaning dishes.

“Yeah, it happens,” Luke replied easily, focusing on the plate in his hands. “Just never really felt like doing it before.”

“You must really like her,” Jace said, voice pointed and the unspoken question…accusation clear.

Luke rolled his eyes. “I admire her. Don’t you?” he questioned. “I feel like she got her shit together.” He glanced over at his brother. “I thought you’d want me to take a page out of a book like that.”

Jace sighed, abandoning the pretense of doing dishes and looking intently at his little brother. Luke steadfastly ignored that and kept doing the dishes meticulously, shining silverware to make sure he didn’t have to look back up at his older brother. Neither was particularly happy at the moment.

“Look, I get it,” Jace said. “She’s funny, articulate. She’s charming.”

“Yeah, and?” Luke asked, already tired of this conversation.

“One might even say disarming,” Jace said seriously. “Maybe even slick, Lucerys.”

“Holy fuck,” Luke said, stopping what he was doing now. He looked dryly at his brother. “Are you serious? Slick? What is wrong with you, Jace?” He was demanding in his words, his question, but kept his voice quiet so he wasn’t overheard by the women in the other room.

“I’m just saying. I don’t want you to get hurt, Luke,” Jace said seriously.

“Have you ever seen someone in withdrawal, Jace?” Luke asked, equally serious—if not more so. He knew the answer, so when he heard his brother report that he hadn’t, Luke pushed on. “Well, it’s kind of like hell. It’s…you’re freezing all the fucking time. LA in goddamn July with no air conditioning and you’re still freezing. Muscle aches like nothing, you’re stiff as a board, nausea, the shakes. You’d wish you were fucking dead. And you just…for so long even afterward you wanna crawl out of your skin.”

“Sounds awful,” Jace granted.

“It is. And right after I got out of detox, when I still wanted to escape my skin, wanted to fucking peel it off to stop feeling so…so…so wrong? She was the one who was there. You don’t know Jace. You don’t get it. And that’s…that’s fine. I wouldn’t…you’re my brother I wouldn’t wish that on you at fucking all. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst fucking enemy, Jace. But she gets it. Mel does. And she’s not only been through it but she was there for me. She kept me from running when all I could think about was scoring some H and getting so high I couldn’t think anymore. She talked me through it—all of it. She rode it all out with me, Jace.”

It wasn’t hard to see the look of distrust and disapproval on Jace’s face. But it was hard to stomach seeing it. “Wow. Awesome,” he said dryly.

“Fuck’s sake, Jace. I’m not asking for her fucking hand in marriage, man. I just wanted to bring a friend to dinner,” Luke said, lowering his voice. “And now you’re not giving her a chance.”

Jace crossed his arms, looking concerned. “No, I guess I’m not. And I don’t think you should be either. Just because someone throws you a life preserver when you’re drowning doesn’t mean you owe them your life savings, Luke,” he said.

“No, but I do owe them my life in that case. Don’t I?” Luke pointed out, unable to help the slight hostility from sinking into his voice. “Why not, Jace?”

“Guess I’m fresh out of those considering I gave them all to you, Lucerys,” Jace pointed out.

Luke’s jaw clenched. “Wow,” he said. He retracted his hands from the soapy dishwater without hesitation or preamble. “Okay, Jacaerys. Whatever you say.”

Jace recognized the error. He scrambled to rectify it. “I just want you to be careful. That’s all, Luke. I promise you that’s it. Like I said. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy,” he said.

“I’m doing good, Jace. I am. And besides? She’s a good person. And a good influence,” Luke pointed out seriously.

Jace closed his eyes. “You want to know what I learned though, Luke? Just because someone’s a good person? Just because you care about them? It doesn’t mean that they won’t burn you.” He looked meaningfully at his brother. “You’re a good person Luke. And I love you—more than just about fucking anything and you know it. And…you know.”

“Thanks, Jace,” Luke said quietly. He grabbed the dish towel and dried his hands off hastily. He let out a dry laugh. The words were true, but they didn’t make them nice to hear. And considering Luke was nowhere near the fourth step he was not in the mood to make amends. Not tonight. Especially not when he’d just insulted Melania for no fucking reason. “You know, I’m just really glad we got to share this milestone. Really. That’s all I wanted, you know? Thirty days clean so you could make me feel like shit again. Your brotherly love is just so fucking…loving and helpful like always.”

Jace let out a quiet sigh. “Luke. Come on please,” he said.

“No,” Luke said sharply. “Fuck you.”

It had been sixty days since he’d seen or spoken to his brother. Well, sixty-two now, almost. And Luke hated that he found himself praying that he wouldn’t see him now. Still, he pocketed the money that Sara had given him along with Jace’s address and walked down to Melania where she waited for him.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly, grabbing her arm. They started walking. “We gotta hail another cab.”

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

Rhaenyra had been having a rough day. Rougher than she’d like to admit. The contractors were running her ragged and being far less useful than she needed them to be. It made no sense. She’d employed these same damn people before and they’d never been quite so fucking useless. And yet? It seemed like they no longer knew their ass from a hole in the wall. And that? That was driving her fucking insane now.

The day was only made better when she heard a massive crash from two rooms over. Mr. Beesbury glanced over at her and she gave him a hard smile. “I’ll be right back, Lyman,” she said shortly. “Let me go see what my children just ruined.”

“No problem,” Lyman said, turning his attention back to the wall he was stripping of wallpaper slowly but surely. “Go make sure they’re alright.”

Rhaenyra nodded an affirmative and then scurried from the room towards the sound that had been made. The closer she got, she heard three distinct voices hissing at each other. Her boys in fact. Popping into the room, she saw—as she suspected she would—Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey all together standing over two shattered stained-glass lamps they’d been planning on selling when they were done being fully restored. She looked down at the broken pieces with her lips pursed and looked back up at her boys silently.

“Who did it?” she asked calmly.

Mouth moving before he seemed to be able to stop it, Luke was the one who cracked. “Jace did it,” he blurted. He looked solidly at his mother, avoiding looking over at the brother he’d just sold out without hesitation.

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw. “Joffrey…go play with Daeron. Now,” she demanded. Immediately, the youngest of the trio fled the scene like a bat out of hell. It would’ve been funny if it didn’t feel like her last nerve had been frayed. She inhaled deeply and moved to the room just next to them, grabbing a broom and dustpan. She moved back and handed them to Jace, a stern expression on her face. “When I come back, I expect this to be cleaned up.” Rhaenyra began to leave the room needing to go back to her task in the other room. A thought occurred to her. “Lucerys get out of that room before you get cut on the glass. No more playing around.”

In the room still, Luke finally had to look over at Jace, a sheepish expression on his face. Jace’s expression was thunderous. He was clearly, demonstratively, unavoidably, and understandably pissed at his little brother. Luke winced at the sight but Jace didn’t soften his glare for a moment.

“Jace I’m sorry,” he said immediately, truly apologetic.

He didn’t know what had come over him. It was like he opened his mouth and just hadn’t been able to shut it. There hadn’t been a malicious thought in his actions. There had, in fact, just been no thought—probably worse to admit that, though.

“Get out,” Jace said shortly. The pre-teen was angrier than he’d maybe ever been at his brother. It was almost impressive the restraint that he had in not telling off his little brother the way that he wanted to. Luke didn’t move for a minute so Jace rolled his eyes and pushed him away from the glass. “Go. You already just ruined my day and probably got me grounded. Don’t ruin it more.”

“Jace—”

“Go. Now.”

NOW

Los Angeles, California

“I’m a terrible fucking person,” Luke muttered to himself.

He stared at the door to Jace’s apartment. He’d barely been able to skirt into the building. The only reason he’d been able to was because he slipped in right behind a resident. The more he looked at the door, he almost felt like the inanimate object was judging him. The thought was so fucking absurd it almost made him laugh. But then he realized, no it really just made him feel all the more fucking worse.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Luke muttered. He closed his eyes. “I’m fucking sorry.”

With that weak, half-hearted apology to absolutely no one issued, he kicked the door in. He knew from looking at it, it wouldn’t be that hard. Clearly, the wrong nails had been used—too short—too easy to kick in. He hadn’t expected it to only take one kick though. One well-placed kick at the door and it swung open, broken. He winced. He felt bad about this. Worse than he’d ever felt in his life. And fuck it, in these moments he hated sobriety. He hated the guilt and knowledge and fucking morality it brought with it.

Even so, he took the step in the door.

Luke shuttered, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself again. “Holy fucking shit, Jace. It’s goddamn freezing in here you lunatic,” he muttered nonsensically to himself.

Then, further cementing him the shittiest brother in the world award that he was absolutely set to win for the rest of eternity, he began to rummage through his brother’s shit. He picked up stuff that would sell for at least a slightly decent price and got out of there as quickly as possible. In and out. In and out. This was the last time, he told himself. And he’d fix this. Somehow. He hoped.

Practically throwing himself back down the stairs again, Jace paused seeing a familiar figure stoop down. He was picking up his mail. And he was most certainly here. He was most certainly in town.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

“Fother mucker,” Luke heard the man mutter as he picked up the mail.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, slowing his steps as the other stood up. Then, he was face to face with his older brother. His older brother who didn’t even look surprised to see him. Not really.

“Hey Luke,” Jace said, his voice steady and calm despite the disappointment and anger he was sure that Jace was. He knew Jace had already clocked the stolen shit in his hands.

“H…hey, Jace,” Luke said, stuttering foolishly over his words. He finished descending the stairs. He couldn’t even look into Jace’s face. He was way too afraid of the types of things he’d see reflected in his brother’s eyes. “I know what…but this…it isn’t what this looks like.” There was so much more that he wanted to say. But, everything hurt impossibly bad, he knew how terrible he looked and there was no way to explain the shit show of the past day to his older brother. Not without making him feel like an even bigger fuck up than he already knew he was.

Jace stared at his younger brother. “You cold?” he asked eventually. Reflexively, filling the role of an older brother, he took the jacket from his shoulders and slung it around Luke’s. Even though he didn’t want to, Luke shoved his arms in the sleeves greedily trying to absorb some of the heat left behind by Jace’s body.

“Y-yeah,” Luke said through a shiver.

“How’d you know where to find me?” Jace asked. When Luke opened his mouth, his older brother raised a hand, preemptively silencing him. “Fuck it. Never mind.” He sighed and began pulling out his wallet. “Look, I have two hundred here. Take it. Take the camera if you have to. But give me the iPad. I need it for work. It has to stay here.”

Luke felt like the worst person in the world as he reached out and handed his brother back his iPad and took the money from his hand. “I…I…Jace, I’m fucking sorry,” Luke said. He knew that he looked awful. He knew that he looked lost. And hell, maybe he was. Maybe he really fucking was.

“I know,” Jace said, closing his eyes for a moment.

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Luke said meaningfully. And while it was true. It didn’t really matter. Jace wouldn’t believe it—he knew that.

“Good,” Jace said.

Yep, Jace didn’t believe him at all.

Luke shuffled to the door then, unable to find another word to say. He pulled the jacket tighter around himself and exited without letting himself look back. If he looked back, he might explain himself to Jace. And he’d get not only disappointed looks that screamed I told you so but he’d also get something even worse. Sympathy. Help. Two things he definitely didn’t deserve from his brother. Especially not right now.

Almost as soon as he’d breached the door Melania appeared at his side, laughing. “Oh my God, I saw him walking in and I thought you were fucked,” she said.

“It’s all good,” he muttered. He showed her the money. “Should be enough for a night or two. And some food.”

“Am-amazing,” Melania said breathlessly, eyes locked on the money.

After acquiring food, which Luke only managed to pick at, not at all hungry, they continued on with their journey. Luke shivered violently, glaring around him as if he could glare the air into warming. This weather made no sense. And how Melania was walking around in just a hoodie he did not know. He thought he was gonna keel over if another cold breeze hit him. Even though it was a clear night, he felt like he was trudging through a damn blizzard.

“Goddamnit it’s so fucking cold tonight, are you cold?” Luke asked absently. He ran his hand down his face not waiting for an answer. “Where the fuck are we? Seventh?”

“Yeah, almost,” Melania chirped, eyes locked on the pocket Luke had tucked the money into.

As she spoke, Luke shook his head to clear it. He knew where he was. They were good. They were good. “It’s a few more blocks. I want a clean hotel. No fucking junkies on the street,” he muttered, glancing around him, pulling the coat tighter. And fuck, his limbs felt like they were locking up. He didn’t think he’d been this cold in his life. Not even during detox.

“Mmm,” Melania drawled, stopping in an alleyway. Luke huffed and stopped turning his eye back to her. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it a couple more blocks without a piss. I’ll just pop into the little junkies’ room and be back in a minute.” Luke gave her a flat, unimpressed look. Melania moved closer to him, genuine concern on her face. One hand touched his hip as if to steady him and the other touched his forehead. “Baby you got a fever?” she asked.

Absent-mindedly, Luke moved away from her hand. “Yeah maybe,” he admitted. “Um it’s…it’s my arms and my legs. Muscle aches. So fucking weird. You know, like…whatever. I’m fine. I’m fine.” Not at all convincing, but Melania wasn’t about to argue.

Melania’s eyes flashed for a moment and she stepped closer to him again. “I…thank you. For…for coming after me. It means a lot,” she managed to say.

“Oh…uh…you’re welcome,” Luke said, giving her a smile. He was swaying back and forth on his feet, focusing on just staying upright with the stupid fucking level of pain in his body. He was shocked when Melania leaned forward then. She raised herself onto her tip-toes and pressed a kiss to Luke’s lips. He was too surprised to really react. But, when she pulled back she had a brilliant smile on her face. Luke could only manage to blink in surprise at the action. “What, uh, what the fuck was that, Mel?”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, stroking his arm. She turned to walk down the alley.

“What are you doing?” Luke asked.

“Back in a flash,” she practically sang, disappearing down the alley.

Almost immediately a bad feeling settled in Luke’s stomach. But she muscled through it like he often did and looked away down the street. The last thing they needed was a cop getting them for something stupid like public urination or some shit like that. He felt eyes on him. Looking in any direction he saw people staring at him. He was keenly aware that his brother’s jacket looked nice. Dread settled more comfortably in his stomach as if it had nowhere better in the world to be. He needed to get the fuck out of here. He sighed after a few minutes of waiting and turned back halfway towards the alley.

“Come on. Let’s keep going,” Luke said.

No response.

He turned fully to the alley, eyes scanning it. “Mel,” he said. Still nothing. “Melania.” He took a few purposeful steps into the alley, hoping beyond reason that she was just stooped down pissing somewhere. “Melania.”

Nothing.

“Fuck,” Luke cursed. He hauled it down the alleyway to the other side. He burst out of it and looked around in all directions. And fuck she was already gone. “Melania! Mel!” He looked desperately around, but there was nothing to see. Absolutely nothing. “Son of a bitch!”

He fell for it. The oldest trick in the fucking book and he fell for it. And worst of all…Jace was right. Again. He was a big enough person to admit that, yes, that was the part that upset him the most right here at this moment. For once…he wanted to be right…for once…he wanted to show Jace that he wasn’t a goddamn idiot. But instead, he had, again, spectacularly failed.

God, he didn’t even want to know what Hel would say when she called him back.

His neck ached painfully.

So that was how Luke found himself in a homeless camp that he’d long since forgotten existed. He stood, hunched over a fire that someone had started in a trash can. It was haphazard. It was unsafe. Hell, Luke was unsafe in this area. And he fucking knew that. Both physically and mentally he was in danger here. Not only did people love to jump others to steal what little they had, but this was an area he was regrettably familiar with. It was an area where he frequented to buy drugs for a long time. And it was an area where he’d overdosed a little less than a year prior; remembering being peeled off the ground by paramedics like a squashed bug was not one of his favorites by a mile. He’d been lucky, he was told, that a good Samaritan had taken the time to call them—he didn’t think that made him lucky, but it did make him alive today.

He glanced around as he held his hands as close to the flames as he could tolerate. He was freezing. It was even worse than before. He felt like shit. Everything was stiff in a way he had never experienced before. It was the weirdest fucking thing; it was like rigor mortis or some shit was setting in except he was still clearly and painfully alive at present. But, it was the kind of stiffness and pain that doesn’t let up. It hadn’t once since he’d woken that morning. And it had only gotten worse as the day progressed.

The pain was most prominent in his hands and his legs with the stiff, cold. And his neck was a different beast altogether. His neck felt almost dislocated—or like it was on the verge of being dislocated. It was uncomfortable, it was confusing, and above all it was concerning. Detox hadn’t been this bad and he’d quite literally wanted to crawl out of his skin like a fucking cicada. Luke was not a coward when it came to pain—most junkies weren’t, they couldn’t be—but he sure felt like a baby with the way he wanted to curl up and cry with the hurt that wouldn’t fucking stop.

Luke was in the midst of a pain-induced bout of self-loathing. And it wasn’t even something he could attribute to addiction this time. He didn’t want to blame himself, either; but, he knew that was a cop-out. This was most definitely on him. He should be at the center. He should be in his bed right now going to sleep. He should be peacefully puttering towards day 92 of being clean. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all. And he cursed himself for being stupid enough to trust Melania. He cursed himself for being stupid enough to not listen to Jace. Again.

Two days.

All it took was two days for his life to fall apart.

“Guess that fucking speech was for nothing,” Luke muttered bitterly through grit teeth, holding his hands closer still to the fire, feeling the burn searing into his hands. But that didn’t help a damn thing. And sure, it wasn’t fair to him. He didn’t plan on relapsing. But, then again…he never did plan on it. Not really. And…he always was such a fuck up. So why not face the inevitable, he figured. And if it could make his body stop hurting? That sounded amazing. Why not face the person you are, he reasoned.

No. No. He was better than this. No.

“Fucking waste.”

Luke’s eyes were locked on his chip. Ninety days. Nothing to write off—the past ninety days had proven that to him. He earned this moment. He deserved this moment. He paused for what he quickly realized was too long and felt his face flushing. He cleared his throat and looked back up at the room full of fellow addicts before glancing back down to the chip.

“So, um…here goes…”

He steeled himself.

He thought of his sister.

And he spoke.

“It has taken me ten years to get to ninety days clean,” he said. “It has taken me ten years to realize how hard it can be to get to ninety days clean and to want to keep going.” He let out a short chuckle. “And I’m starting step four. That’s always the step that does me in. Every time. So…it’s something that I’m not looking forward to. But…this time…it feels different. I mean…sobriety…being clean as a whole feels different. But, step four this time? Even that feels different.”

He glanced around the room and saw a sea of understanding faces. No pity, no compassion really either. Just understanding. And that simplicity was what bolstered him to keep speaking.

“Step four…a fearless moral inventory. And, uh, I really can’t tell you anything about that. Because I’ve been called a lot of things in my life. But fearless? That’s never been one of them.” He scratched absently at his neck for a moment, habitually and nervously. “Even when I was…you know, a kid…I was scared of everything. And I mean everything. I got scared of the-the damn doorbell in every new house we moved into. I was scared of making friends in school. So…I wasn’t…surprised that life was something that…petrified me so much. For a while, I hated myself for it. I thought that…I thought that I’d get braver as I got older, you know? But, I just…I didn’t. The one thing I did get better at being? A drug addict. I got better at lying…I got better at running. All the hallmark things that you don’t want to be good at in life. All the things that make us feel like absolute shit when we go through and start to do step four. And as everything went along…I just…I got scared of new things too. So…fearless isn’t the word I’d use.”

Luke glanced down at the chip in his hands and flipped it between his fingers for a few moments. He took another deep breath and then looked up again.

“I, uh, I was adopted when I was born. Me and my siblings all were. It was just the seven of us and our moms…so I guess the nine of us,” Luke said. He looked down at his feet for a moment. “My mom, uh, one of them, she…uh, she committed suicide when I was six years old. And my siblings and I, we, uh, we got sent to live with our uncle. Our other…other mom was a wreck at the time.” He cleared his throat, eyes still locked on his chip. “And, I mean, like…I mean, I was just a kid. You know I didn’t…I didn’t really understand death yet. So, I just…me…and my sister…and our two little brothers…we just…we expected her to come back. And every night, I’d…I’d just stare out of my window at the cars that would drive by as they came around the corner. I…I knew her car. I knew what it sounded like. And I just…I just kept hoping that one would stop. And that it’d be my mom and she’d just…step out. That she’d…that she’d, you know, come…come and take me home. All of my siblings.”

The room was silent. He didn’t look up to see if the faces of any of the other people in the room changed. He could deal with understanding. He couldn’t deal with pity. And to this point in his life, all that this story had ever brought him was pity. And he’d be the first to admit that he’d used it before to get things. But he was done with that. He wanted to be done with that.

“But every time that I saw those headlights coming around the corner, I’d sit up in bed. Straight up. Immediately. I don’t…I don’t think I slept a lot in those early days. I just…I couldn’t. There was…too much. Way too fucking much. And I’d just…I’d stare out the window. And I was just so full of hope. It wasn’t even the pure kind of hope that kids should have, not really. It was hope born out of the desperation to have my family…my life back. Even though I was too young to realize it.” He shrugged slightly. “But it never mattered. Those cars…they just kept driving. She was done. But…those taillights? God…they were the worst. When they were gone, they took all my fucking hope with them. Every time. And, you know, I was just a kid. It was like these…red eyes in the dark just stealing the hope…the life outta me. And I was just too damn young to understand any of it.”

Luke rolled his shoulders back, an uncomfortable feeling settling over him. But he was determined to power through this. He could do it. He was brave enough…strong enough. He had to be.

“Mom, uh, mom never came back, obviously. And that…I grew to understand…kind of. But, you know, that wasn’t the only thing from then. And those…those other things from when I was a kid?” Luke let out a humorless laugh. “Those things…they…they came back. And I…I guess that was why I started using in the first place, you know? I just…I needed something to help keep those things away. And, you know. I’d do the old song and dance—the tale as old as fucking time. I’d get clean for…a week…a month. But…I’d always feel those things creeping back in. Sneaking up on me. So, I’d…I’d use. It was…the only thing that made sense at the time. The only escape that I thought I had.”

He looked down at the chip, a strange melancholy sinking in. He forced it away and looked up again. He saw Melania smiling at him and his heart felt just a little bit better. Just enough to keep on speaking.

“You know, my family is never gonna believe this. They’ll absolutely think I’m lying if I say I got ninety days clean. They, uh, they never really believe me.” It was conversational. It was fact. It was a sad little boy stuck inside a grown man’s body. “And I mean, like…I don’t…don’t really blame them. At all. The, uh, the amount of times that I fucked them over? Lied? Stole? Hell…I think I stole a fucking birthday gift from my niece at some point because I was so desperate for cash and knew I could sell the toy. So, like…yeah. I have fucked up so many times. I mean, come on now. You all know what I mean.”

That got a chuckle out of the room. Luke looked up and was relieved to see not a shred of sympathy on anyone’s face still. Even so, he kept his eyes on Melania. He’d get through this. He was almost done. His lips quirked up slightly for a moment and she nodded encouragingly. He kept talking.

“I guess…uh…and I guess…I’ll never know how it felt for them to be done like that. To be taken advantage of so…callously. To be lied to and stolen from.” He let out a single, short laugh. “Well, at least I fucking hope not. Because I wouldn’t wish…a goddamn heroin addiction on anyone. Any kind of addiction. And I wouldn’t…wouldn’t wish to…to be hurt like that either, selfish as it is. So…I…I hope I never know.”

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts of his family. It only ever sort of worked. His siblings remained lurking at the back of his mind—and he was growing to hate that less and less. He just hoped they could grow to hate the idea of him less in the future. He knew he had beyond fucked up though.

“Sorry,” he apologized, clearing his throat. “Didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I, uh, I want to thank my caseworker, Elyana. And I want to thank everyone here at…at our recovery house. This center has…saved my life more than I thought ever possible. And I…I want to thank someone…someone special who has always had my back.” Melania subtly winked at him knowing damn well he was talking about her. “So, uh, thank you. Any addict alone…”

“Is in bad company,” came up the call from the rest of the room as they reflexively finished the phrase.

Luke nodded. “Yeah. That’s right,” he admitted. “So, thank you…for helping me…and making sure I’m…not alone in…the worst company I could ask for.” Another series of snickers came from the room. “Thank you.”

Applause sounded through the room politely and he gave a half-smile then moved to sit down next to Melania again. She punched his arm lightly and gave him a nod. He gave her a small smile, a delicate smile. There was understanding in Melania’s eyes. And sympathy. And sadness. But…coming from her? It wasn’t…it wasn’t so bad.

The truth of the matter was that Melania had looked at him and smiled through that speech. She knew well what she was going to do…that she was going to leave. And…when he came after her? Her mind was made up then too. She knew that she’d rob him blind if that’s what she needed to do to get her next fix. The only problem was that even though Luke knew it too, he’d refused to accept it. Like an idiot.

Again, the damn reminder rang in his head that Jace was right.

God.

Jace.

Not just Jace.

Rhaenyra. Aegon. Jace. Aemond. Helaena. Daeron. Joffrey.

Everyfuckingone.

Luke knew that pain now. The pain he put his family through. Well, no that wasn’t true or fair. He knew a sliver of what he’d put them through. And if he let his mind rest on that? If he thought of the fearless fucking moral inventory that he needed to do? If he thought of the amends that he had to make? Luke was going to be sick.

Maybe the morning would feel better.

He highly fucking doubted it though.

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

There was a strange, sticky panic wrapping itself around Luke’s heart. It felt like he couldn’t breathe or think right. A distracting sort of haze fell over his mind. He didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t know what to do about the fact that he didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t find Helaena.

Helaena was missing.

She had disappeared.

And it seemed like he was the only one who cared.

“Luke, where are you running off to?” a voice called from behind him. Luke whipped his head around quickly, only to see one of his mothers standing there. Alicent stood, hands on her hips, gazing down at the troubled-looking boy. She was confused by what could’ve changed his mood so starkly from the laughing and shrieking he’d been doing not even ten minutes prior. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t find Hellie,” he said, voice watery. “I don’t know where she went, mommy.”

Alicent frowned, looking around. “She was just with you, wasn’t she?” Alicent posed. Luke nodded. “Well, then she has to be somewhere around here, darling.” She moved to stand next to him and stroked his hair soothingly. “Maybe she ran to the bathroom? Your bedroom?”

“I checked,” Luke replied, looking up at his mother with watery eyes. “I don’t know what to do. She disappeared.”

“She’s not gone, Luke,” Alicent said. There was a crashing sound in the other room—one that sounded like it was coming from contractors and not kids—so Alicent stiffened and started to follow it immediately. “Just keep looking for her, Luke. You’ll find her. It’s okay. She’s somewhere in the house.”

Luke didn’t have another moment to ponder how utterly despondent and scared he felt. The world didn’t feel right without Helaena at his side. They were twins in every way that mattered. They knew each other like no other. And that’s how he knew Helaena was gone. That’s how he knew she disappeared. That’s how he knew she was missing. He couldn’t feel her anymore. And it was devastating. And he didn’t know why his mother couldn’t understand too.

“Luke?” came a voice over his shoulder.

Luke jumped and turned around, seeing Aegon standing there. His eyebrows were raised and he looked unimpressed until he saw the devastation on Luke’s face. He sighed and walked over to his little brother and knelt down in front of him.

“What is it?” Aegon asked.

“Hel’s gone,” he said, voice quivering with the tears that were inevitably about to come.

Aegon frowned and reached out to touch Luke’s arm. The action seemed to shock both of them; apparently, Aegon hadn’t even planned on doing it. His hand just…moved of its own volition. And as Aegon’s skin made contact with Luke’s, both of them shivered slightly as if the room dropped ten degrees. After a few moments, Aegon frowned like Luke was and stood up. Slowly, Aegon turned and looked around the room with a strange suspicion obvious in his features. He reached out and took Luke’s hand without looking back at him and began pulling him from the room.

“Where are we going?” Luke asked his older brother, confused.

“To find Hellie,” Aegon replied. “She’s not in there.”

“Well duh,” Luke drawled, far too sassy for a child of his age.

His brother rolled his eyes. “Well, if you want to find her then we have to leave the room,” Aegon pointed out, voice having equal attitude. A brief look of uncertainty crossed Aegon’s features as they walked into a hallway. “I think she’s this way.”

Luke paused. He had a strange gut feeling that Aegon was right. Yes, Helaena was this way. But he also had the feeling that something…else was this way too. And that thought made that sticky fear encroaching on his heart again to grow cold. Without thinking about it, he stopped moving, his body becoming like stone. He wasn’t going to move anymore.

Aegon stopped too, having felt his little brother’s sudden stillness. He glanced back. “What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

“I don’t…think we should go that way,” Luke said, sounding a little bit breathless and a touch confused himself. “It doesn’t…feel…right?”

Luke watched as a strange look crossed over Aegon’s features. One that almost read as understanding or as if Luke had just clicked puzzle pieces into place in his mind with those few words. He didn’t understand it at all. All he understood was the grating fear that he felt knowing that Helaena wasn’t with him, that she was gone and he couldn’t find her, and that there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing that his body would let him do at least.

“Listen, Luke,” Aegon said quietly, stooping down so they were at eye level again. “You said Hel’s missing, right?” He nodded jerkily. “Well, then she needs you, Luke. She needs you to be brave so we can go find her. And I’m right here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Or to her.”

Luke believed Aegon. He did. Aegon loved his siblings. And he’d only doubled down in his love for his siblings in the past few weeks. Demonstratively. Luke hadn’t spent so much time with his eldest brother since two houses ago. More probably. Even so, even knowing that Aegon was telling the truth and he wouldn’t let anything hurt him if he had a say in it, Luke felt weariness in his very bones at the thought of going forward. He cast his eyes down and stared at the strangely patterned carpet beneath his feet. There were shoe prints all along it. Helaena’s, he knew, based on the tread and the butterfly imprint in the center of them—she’d get yelled at for tracking so much dirt into the house and leaving her shoes on.

“Hellie’s always been the brave one,” Luke said after a few beats of silence.

Aegon shook his head. “Helaena’s gone, Luke. She needs you. And I know you’re not going to leave her alone. If Hellie’s gone and needs you, Luke? It’s time for you to be the brave one,” he said firmly.

“I don’t think I can do it,” Luke whispered, the words almost inaudible.

“Maybe not alone,” Aegon granted, standing up straight. “Maybe not this time.” He offered Luke his hand again. “But you’re not alone. I’m right here with you.” The elder glanced at the hallway that did indeed have a strange…wrongness permeating it. He didn’t let the disturbing thought show on his face; he wouldn’t let Luke get more freaked out. “And you know what, Luke?”

“What?” he asked reluctantly, looking up at his brother with eyes that were still a bit watery.

“You and I? We’re gonna kick some ass together,” Aegon said in a stage whisper. Luke covered his mouth, eyes widening at the curse word that fell so easily from his brother’s lips. Then, despite the fear he still felt, he giggled. “You with me, pal?”

“Yeah,” Luke said reluctantly, putting his hand back into Aegon’s when he was done giggling. “I’m with you, Aegon.”

“Atta boy,” Aegon encouraged, pulling his younger brother swiftly down the strange hallway that made it feel like thousands of eyes were on them. “For Hel.”

“For Hellie,” Luke confirmed.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

Luke was right. The morning did not bring any peace. It did not bring any relief. It brought a worsening pain and stiffness and an agony that made moving his body the worst thing in the fucking world to him. But, nonetheless, he forced himself to trudge along with no particular stop in mind. He was walking in the direction of a shelter, he thought. But, he was frankly too tired to be sure.

He was also too tired to be paying attention the way he should’ve been.

So, that chill October morning plucked away the first string of Lucerys Targaryen-Hightower’s undoing.

He knew better.

Luke wasn’t a small man by any means. He was fairly tall and far stronger than he had any right to be after destroying his body for over a decade with shit food and even shittier substances. But the feeling of a fist unexpectedly making contact with your temple at full strength was enough to knock anyone off balance. He was more than caught off guard, having sunk down to one knee from the strength of the blow. His eyesight was already swimming. It wasn’t just the one fist that made contact. Hell, it wasn’t even two. There were four men he managed to see through the limited defense he was able to do for himself. He was already in pain but this…this was just the icing on the cake.

In the end, they managed to rip the coat off of him and his hoodie. Then, they’d taken his shoes for good measure. They’d even fished out the wallet from his pocket but threw it back when they realized there was no cash or bank cards in there. Luke had…nothing. And he was left barefoot without any protection from the cold morning. And…he felt…nothing about it at that point. He was exhausted. He was frozen solid like ice, and all of him hurt from his fucking hair to his goddamn toes.

He couldn’t think of a better penance for his idiocy.

Luke let himself lay on the ground for a few minutes after they’d sprinted off. He breathed shallowly through his mouth—his nose was bleeding but luckily probably not broken; he was in too much pain to really tell. A man hurried over to his side at some point and knelt down beside him.

“Sir are you alright?” the man asked, concerned as he helped Luke up.

“I’m…yeah. Just a little banged up,” Luke said, not knowing what else he could possibly say. He didn’t understand why this man was being nice to him.

“Uh, you’re a little more than banged up, pal. Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” he asked.

Luke’s vision blurred for a moment and he shook his head. The guy kind of looked like his brother…one of them…he couldn’t really…tell which one, though, given there were three of him swimming through his vision. It jarred him. Carefully, Luke removed his arm from the guy’s hold.

“No…no,” Luke managed to say. “I just…I’m good. This is…probably my fault. I’ve been here long enough to know better.”

“Do you want me to call the cops at least? Let them know what happened?” the guy asked, genuinely seeming concerned about what had happened.

Luke really didn’t get it.

Maybe the guy was concerned about the crime rate because he lived here.

Yeah, that was the only thing that really made sense.

“No. No point. They’re not gonna find the guys,” Luke dismissed. He shrugged. “Thanks for the, uh, offer though. You should…you should, uh, be safe though. Don’t…don’t worry. Guys like that don’t, uh…don’t tend to go for people who look like they could actually file charges against them.” Luke looked the guy up and down. He looked like a lawyer for fuck’s sake. “You should be safe.”

“I’m not worried about me, man. I’m worried about you. I didn’t even see what happened and I can tell it was brutal,” he reported. “You’re walking around with no damn shoes—you look freezing. Your face is dripping blood and your eyes keep drifting, man. You’re slurring your words a little bit too.”

“Don’t worry about me. I got more shoes at home,” he lied, starting to walk away. “And head injuries bleed more than others. I’m good. I’m good.”

“You sure you don’t want me to call anyone?” the guy shouted after him.

“No one to call,” Luke denied, calling loudly back in reply.

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

“Joff is gonna come here and sit with us too. Real soon. But, you’re the only girl that’s allowed up here. Not even Hellie is,” Luke said seriously, looking over his shoulder. He and Lyanna had just crawled into his treehouse and he was so excited for the girl to see. The girl nodded at his words and looked around the walls at his drawings. “Do you know what that means?”

The girl looked back over at him. Her eyes were quizzical. She tilted her head to the side as she looked at her friend and then shook her head. She didn’t know.

Luke smiled goofily at her. “That means we have to be friends forever, duh,” he said. He grabbed her hand, pulling her to the other side of the treehouse so they could sit. “Now come on, I have to show you all of my other drawings! And I even have some stuff so you can paint too—just watercolor though! My mama would kill me if I got stuff dirty in here.”

Lyanna smiled brilliantly at him at those words.

Luke’s heart felt full.

Friendship felt nice.

NOW

Los Angeles, California

Luke had found himself a nice bench to park himself on. Sure, he was in agonizing pain but suddenly he was at least glad for his frozen hands because he was able to press one of them to his cheek to try and combat the swelling. It was little comfort to him, though. He could only bring himself to sit still for a little while though, an inescapable anxiety rising up in his chest. He felt…he felt eyes on him even though he knew that there were none.

He began to pace.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,” he muttered to himself, walking in one direction. He turned around and then did the same. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.” He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he willed them away and turned, starting the process again.

Over and over, back and forth he paced. The feeling of the eyes, the feelings of being watched…being followed…just kept getting closer. Anxiety wrapped around his heart like a vice and he just kept pacing. Despite what every instinct in his body told him after he’d turned once more, he stopped pacing. He lifted his head from where he’d been staring at his bare feet on the frozen ground. And then he looked over his shoulder.

There was a man facing away from him. A dark peacoat that hung perfectly on his body. Dark slacks. Bowler hat. Bald head underneath. A fucking cane.

Luke’s heart leaped into his throat and then sunk down to what felt like his feet. He turned his head again, trying not to outwardly panic because he knew it would do nothing, and then kept pacing. This time, though, he walked away from the bench and the area he’d been in, pacing down the sidewalk. He’d escape this if it fucking killed him.

He had to.

He had to, he had to, he had to.

He had no other choice.

Even so, as he reached the number nine, he froze again. It felt like a rock was stuck in his throat. He knew it. He felt it. He knew what he shouldn’t do—and like Luke usually was wont to do, he did it anyway. He looked over his damn shoulder.

Man. Peacoat. Slacks. Hat. Bald. Cane.

Closer than before.

Luke turned his head once more, forcing oxygen into his lungs. Despite the pervasive and unending chill and agonizing pain, he was sweating. He wanted to throw up. He wouldn’t but he wanted to. He felt his hands tremble for a second and he shoved them into his pockets. He gripped his ninety-day chip like a lifeline and he kept walking.

“He’s not real. He’s not real,” he promised himself.

Then, he kept counting.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.”

And he kept walking.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.”

And it just kept feeling…closer…and closer.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.”

He had to keep going—it was the only thing keeping him safe and he knew it.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.”

From midday to dusk, he begged for change like a fucking idiot until someone felt bad enough to give him a handful of quarters. So, knowing he seriously had no alternatives, especially as night fell, he took them and made a phone call. He dialed the familiar number—the same one he’d called the night before—and he waited.

In the office of the very rehab that Luke was calling, Elyana sat behind her desk with Luke’s brother Jace on the other side of the desk. The older man was pale and withdrawn and he looked like he’d been through hell in the past day. And based on what information he’d shared with Elyana—little as it was—he had been. So, she’d allowed him to wait in her office. He said he knew that Luke would call again. She just prayed that Luke’s brother was right—otherwise, Jace would need to hunt his brother down without any indication of where he was. And that…that would just make this worse; Elyana didn’t want to make this worse.

So, when the phone rang, Elyana didn’t expect it to be Luke. But she did hope that it would be him. “Reflections Rehab and Recovery, this is Elyana speaking, how may I help you?” she greeted, voice calm. She looked at Jace who looked at her, hopeful and terrified at the same time.

“I…I couldn’t help her,” came the voice on the other line. Luke. She looked at Jace, eyes widening slightly and she nodded. Luke visibly slumped back in his chair before immediately leaning forward again.

“We’ve been waiting for you to call,” Elyana said after a few moments. “There…Luke…there’s something that I need to tell you.”

“Listen,” Luke interrupted. “I know that I fucked up leaving. I promise you that I fucking know that. I promise, okay? But…but I didn’t use. I didn’t. I haven’t…I haven’t even thought about using the past two days have been fucked, Elyana. And I just…” He trailed off and she heard his breath practically rattling in his lungs. He sounded sick; not detox sick, though. She knew that from Luke and this was…different. “And I…I’m so fucking cold. And my…my…my arms and my legs are so stiff that it hurts. And I just…fuck it’s…I’m scared. I didn’t take anything and I don’t know why this is happening. I just…I need a bed. A couch. I don’t know. Elyana I will sleep on the goddamn floor. Just…” She heard his teeth literally chatter. “Please, please, please, please, please let me come back. Please.”

She looked up at Jace, her face drawn and tired on Luke’s behalf. She felt bad. She really, truly did.

“Where are you?” she asked, picking up a pen, and pulling a sheet of paper closer to her. “We’ll come get you.”

After Luke hung up, he felt a surge of hope. The surge of hope was almost immediately squashed by fear welling up in his chest again. Even Closer now, he still felt himself being followed. He closed his eyes and took as deep of a breath as he could manage. He couldn’t leave this area—Elyana was coming—but he had to get past this. So, he kept his eyes on the ground and he started pacing again.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.”

THEN

Duxbury, Massachusetts

Something woke Luke up. He’d been mid-dream. And it had been something nice. But something had ripped him from it quite suddenly. He opened his eyes blearily and stared at the ceiling for a moment, getting his bearings. And that’s when he heard it. Helaena was sniffling and crying. Luke sat up suddenly and turned his head to look at her.

“Hey,” Luke said softly, getting her attention.

Helaena turned towards him. She had red eyes and tears drying on her cheeks. “You’re awake,” she said, confused, sniffling even as she spoke.

“Well yeah,” Luke said, reaching over to turn on his bedside lamp. “Because…you’re awake, Hellie.”

Helaena looked away from her brother at that point, staring forward again, even though she kept her eyes on her bedspread alone. “I saw her again,” she whispered.

“The Bent-Neck Lady?” Luke asked, already knowing the answer.

Helaena nodded dejectedly and Luke stood up, moving to sit on her bed next to her. Helaena immediately laid her head on his shoulder. “Mommy…and mama…they…they don’t believe me,” she said quietly. “Ever. They say she’s a nightmare, Luke, but…but I know. I know she isn’t. She’s real.”

“I know she is,” Luke replied. He never doubted that—never doubted Helaena—for a second. The Bent-Neck Lady was real. Luke was sure of it; more sure of that than maybe anything else in his life right now. Luke jerked suddenly. “I have an idea.”

He stood up, dislodging Helaena’s head from his shoulder. She instinctively swatted at him for moving, but, for once, he was faster than her. He leaned over to the jar of buttons that she kept on her nightstand and grabbed them. He reached in and fished nine buttons out painstakingly carefully and laid them out one by one on the bed until they laid in a perfect little arrow.

“You need nine. And you set them up like this,” he explained. He looked up at Helaena after he was done and gestured down to the buttons.

“Why nine?” Helaena asked, cocking her head in confusion, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder and into her face as she did so. Luke laughed as she pushed it away. This time he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the way she swatted at his arm.

He pointed to the first button. “Mama.” The next button. “Mommy.” The next button. “Aegon.” The next. “Jace.” Next. “Aemond.” Next. “You.” Next. “Me.” Next. “Daeron.” Last. “Joffrey.” He looked up at her. “It has to be nine, Hellie.” He looked down at them again, fingers ghosting over the top of each of them. “It helps if you touch each one and count out loud.”

Reluctantly, Helaena reached out her own small hand, her pointer finger landing on the first button. “One.” Her hand moved slowly. “Two.” A little more fluidly then. “Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.”

“That keeps you safe,” Luke said, nodding seriously. Helaena looked at him and then back down at the buttons. After a moment, she nodded. “Sometimes, you know…you gotta do it a lot. Like…a lot, a lot. But it keeps you safe. Nine. Just like us. It’s like…we’re all with you. Just…don’t forget to count.”

Helaena nodded, more confident now, understanding her twin’s thought process. She reached out to the first of the buttons again. “One…Two…Three…Four…”

NOW

Los Angeles, California

“Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.”

Luke pivoted on his heel. Continued to pace. Continued to count. All he could think about was the numbers. All he could let himself think about was the numbers. The numbers were safe. The numbers kept him safe. Nothing else mattered right now. Just the numbers. He started counting on his fingers too, giving his anxious hands something else to do.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.”

He turned again, the unending walk continuing.

Something was wrong.

“One…Two…Three…Four…”

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Five…Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…”

Closer now.

“One, two, three.”

Too close.

“Four, five, six.”

Too close, too close, too close.

“Seven, eight, nine.”

On and on he tried, feeling tears welling up in his eyes and his heart aching in pain. He kept counting until it felt like his voice disappeared. And as he stopped speaking, stopped counting and keeping himself safe, his feet rooted themselves in place. He might as well have been a goddamn tree. He didn’t have to turn to know what was behind him.

And it was behind him now.

As if it were real, as if it were something tangible, Luke felt it against him. They were back-to-back now. He felt bile rising in his throat, then he tasted it. He closed his eyes and swallowed it down. His hands trembled at his sides. Luke wanted to give up. Never in his life had he wanted to give up the way that he craved at this moment. Never. He was usually one to run, not just…throw in the towel. But this…this moment…this ultimate crescendo of pain and fear and his fucking…his fucking childhood demons hunting him down?

He didn’t think he could do it.

In fact, he knew that he couldn’t.

Helaena had always been the brave one.

He had to fucking try.

A tear finally eclipsed his lash line and fell down his face. Just one. He felt…broken. But he had no other choice—he never really did when it counted, did he? Steeling himself as best he could with the ice-cold fear that was running through his veins, he turned around.

Luke was surprised when he did. He didn’t see…he didn’t see what he expected. There was no man in a peacoat and bowler hat behind him, facing away and ominously approaching. This, though, while new and a change of pace, sure, from his normal issues…this felt…worse.

Luke saw an image of his mother—the dead one, unfortunately—standing in front of him. Her eyes were closed. She looked…she looked beautiful. Not like…not like at…not like the end. Her curls were pristine—they reminded Luke of his own, which made him feel almost worse—her lips were painted blood red and she had an all-too-familiar bowler hat on her head. She didn’t open her eyes while Luke stared at her, not able to comprehend what he was seeing.

“Come home, my love,” came the lilting voice of Alicent. And fuck anything else, that was her voice. It was. Luke was young when Alicent had died—when his mother had died—but…but he remembered her voice. And that…that was it. Not some perfect manufacturing of it from his head. It just…it was her.

Alicent opened her eyes then, not saying another word. But instead of her kind gaze—the gaze that Luke had grown so used to missing—her eyes were light. Bright, shining light. It burned Luke’s eyes to even see. He reflexively reached up a hand to cover his face. And when he brought it down again, the visage of her was gone.

A car was approaching.

A normal sedan.

Luke knew it well—it was Elyana’s.

And as the car parked, Luke expected for the driver’s side door to open. And it did, with Elyana slowly emerging, a look of caution and…something else on her face. But that wasn’t the part that threw Luke off. When Elyana had said we will come get you…he’d figured it was an ambiguous sort of we meaning the rehab…or even just some other staff member. But, no, it was something else. His brother Jace emerged from the passenger side. He had a deeply concerned look on his face. One that Luke was sure his own face echoed.

“Jace,” he said, breathless and relieved.

Jace was here, he wasn’t alone, he was safe. He walked over to his brother and hugged him. He was surprised that Jace not only didn’t push him off but immediately wrapped his arms around his little brother in a fierce hug. The two hugged tightly for a moment before Luke felt like he could even think again—even so, he couldn’t breathe all that well still because of how hard he was sobbing.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I-I didn’t…I…I…I couldn’t…I couldn’t,” Luke stuttered out, unable to form full thoughts much less sentences. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t help her.”

He pulled back from Jace and drew in a ragged breath. It hurt Jace to see his younger brother like this. Not just so disheveled—he was used to that—but to see him in the state that he was. Bruised and battered. No shoes. No coat. Nothing. He was shaking like a leaf and for once, Jace believed that it wasn’t from being high or from coming down. No, Luke’s eyes were way too clear for that—way too aware and present.

“I…I’m sorry,” Luke croaked out, sniffling as he was still crying. “And I…I’m s-so cold? I-I didn’t…my…my arms and my legs…” He heaved in another breath. “They’re so…they’re so stiff. Everything hu-hurts and it’s like…and…and I…I don’t…”

He was losing it, and Jace saw him losing it. And the elder felt bad about what he’d have to do—felt bad that he’d just make it worse, especially when he was finally making progress. Well…before the past two hellish days.

“It’s…it’s…it’s like…Jace, it’s like…it’s like withdrawal but, but…but I-I…I…I didn’t…I didn’t use. I wa-wasn’t using, but I…but...but I feel it anyway and it hurts so fucking bad I can’t think. I…” Luke trailed off and looked up at Jace, meeting his eye. “You…you believe me, right?” He looked away, breathing picking up. “Oh God, you don’t believe me. Why would you? I sound fucking insane.”

“Hey,” Jace said. He wrapped his hand around the back of Luke’s neck, making him focus on him. “I believe you, Lucerys. For once I fucking believe you. But that…it’s not…fuck. You…you gotta come with me.” Luke looked puzzled, terrified, and hopeful all at once. Jace felt like the worst person in the world knowing he’d crush it. “You…you gotta come with me, Luke.”

Luke glanced over at Elyana who stayed at her car door, looking over the two brothers, but coming no closer. His brow furrowed and he looked back at Jace. His heart rate was picking up again, a sticky sort of fear wrapping itself around his heart as if readying to strangle him.

“W-what? Why?” Luke asked.

The words were wrong falling from his mouth. They felt like sandpaper and tasted like ash. He didn’t want to ask—he didn’t want the answers. But it seemed his mouth had made the decision to speak before his brain could interfere. Luke took in his older brother’s face; there wasn’t just sadness on his face…there was agony…there was grief. And even before Jace opened his mouth…something clicked in Luke’s mind. He separated, it seemed, from himself, just for the moment.

He…he knew what Jace was going to say.

“It’s…it’s Hel,” Jace said after a few moments.

He knew. He knew it.

“Hel’s dead,” Jace continued after Luke was silent for a moment too long.

Luke wasn’t present in his body—or his mind for that matter—as those words left his older brother’s mouth. Even so, he felt tears in his eyes at the news. And suddenly…the day…the pain…it made sense. The…seeing Hel…her telling him to go…he couldn’t let himself think about that. Seeing their mom telling him to come…no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He was silent, his mouth half-open like he was going to speak. His throat had sealed itself shut, though. No words could escape. His brain was hardly summoning thoughts. He wasn’t…he didn’t…

Not Hel.

No.

“How?” he managed to say after a few long moments.

Lie to me Jace, he silently begged. Lie to me. Prove me wrong.

It didn’t matter what Luke’s mind begged for. It already knew, even before Jace’s mouth opened what wretched words he’d say. “It…it was suicide,” Jace managed to say, looking at Luke like he needed to be handled with kid gloves.

And…maybe he did.

His breath caught in his throat. He knew it. Maybe the only thing that Luke was sure of in his life at the moment. He knew that would be the fucking answer. He reached up, hand absently tracing over the back of his neck. For two days now, his neck had felt wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. His neck had felt as though a single misstep would break it. Like it had been…dislocated. He thought, not for longer than a nanosecond, about his dream…about waking from the dream before he saw his sister standing before him.

No.

Not Hellie.

“No,” he said, the word finally escaping his mouth. He didn’t know what else he could possibly say but that. “No. Jace.” He shook his head. He felt tears falling, but that didn’t matter. He felt devoid of emotion even as they all mutely slammed into his chest. He didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t know what to do about the fact that he didn’t know what to do.

Helaena was missing.

Jace felt like shit.

Luke was falling apart.

Hellie was gone.

“It wasn’t.”