Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,

For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and souls deliver.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better then thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

- John Donne, ‘Death Be Not Proud’

He was ruler of the Dreaming – though he did not sleep. The first days in the castle, Dream wandered the vast halls – met with his subjects. He was meeting them for the first time, and yet, he’d known them all since their creation. There was so… much.

He held his first banquet – welcoming the Faerie court. It had gone as well as could be expected. Nobody had died, which Lucienne had counted a success.

The Dreaming healed.

Creating changes had been hard. Remained so, at times. He was the Dream King but, still, he felt as though he were treading on sacred ground. Altering that which he had no business changing. It had taken months before he’d raised the lighting in the throne room – chasing away the deep shadows that had cloaked the space in a shroud. Upon seeing the change, Matthew had tilted his head, and then preened his feathers before stating, “Thank God. You know how many times I almost flew into a wall because it was so dark?”

He knew the raven still mourned. But Matthew had chosen, after all, to remain. As had Lucienne and Nuala.

Still… he could not stop his thoughts from drifting to those who had not wished to stay.

He had weighed the words of Fiddler’s Green. From the memories, he carried, this resident of the Dreaming had often been a wise counselor. He offered a view that added depth and nuance to complicated subjects and Dream… Morpheus… had held his words in great esteem.

It had been a year, now, as Lord of the Dreaming. The dreams and nightmares and other residents of the realm had slowly begun to see their master as the only Dream they’d ever known. It had been… disquieting. Some, though, still held firm to their memories of what had been.

“It is the nature of dreams to be forgotten. It is why the dreamers see the Waking world as the real world – despite the fact that memories of the Waking can be just as fleeting. And, because dreamers shape the Dreaming – we too… forget. Once something… someone… is. Gone.”

Dream rubbed his fingers against the worn fabric of the lounge where he sat. A habit he seemed to have inherited.

“But you have not forgotten.” he said, finally.

Lucienne’s smile, while warm, carried grief as well. “No.”

oOo

A year was scarcely enough time to acclimate to the Dreaming – a realm that had existed since existence had begun. Just as acclimating to his own being was ongoing. He was both an infant and a collection of memories spanning billions of years. Lucienne remained invaluable as guide, and counselor, and… friend.

Walking alone, through his lands, Dream found his steps taking him, inevitably, towards Nysa’s Glen. Nysa, herself, appeared before him – thistle blossoms and bramble woven through her dark locks.

“My Lord.” She bowed, then offered him a berry plucked from the bramble in her hair. In his hands, it reshaped into a glass of dark wine.

Dream dipped his head. “Thank you, my Lady.”

They walked together through the glen – soft pink petals flitting down from the trees around them. Nysa tipped her gaze towards Dream – her long fingers trailing against shrubs to her left. Purple flowers bloomed in her wake. The silence between them carried until the glass in Dream’s hand emptied. It dissolved into tiny seeds and, when tipped to the ground, spouted into green seedlings. Together, they stopped before a small pool where bright fish blew bubbles at the surface.

Nysa settled herself in the grass – her feet dipping into the water. After a moment, Dream sat as well.

“I love this pond.” Nysa said, after they had sat together for several minutes. Dream looked out at the water – the setting sun reflecting gold and pink on its surface.

“It is beautiful.”

Nysa smiled. “Yes.” She lifted her hand and a small, white, powderpuff of a bird flitted down from the trees to light on her fingers. “Your sister enjoys wandering my meadows. It was very kind of you to allow her to visit anytime she likes.”

Dream watched as two small koi chased one another through a cluster of reeds. “I see she has gifted you with more of her creations.”

Kissing the tiny bird on the head, Nysa lifted her arm and let it fly off back into the trees. “They’re lovely, aren’t they? So full of life.”

The moments trickled along like motes of stardust. Nysa leaned back on her hands – one foot making ripples in the water. “How may I aid you, Lord? I do not wish to speak out of turn but you seem… troubled.”

A pair of Delirium’s butterflies settled, for just a breath, on Dream’s knee before lifting in haphazard flight towards the sky.

“I have been thinking of your predecessor.”

“Fiddler’s Green.”

Dream dipped his head. “The last time I spoke to him… I had… been attempting to restore him to the Dreaming.”

Nysa hummed. “And he did not wish it.”

Resting his arms in his lap, Dream shook his head. “He did not.”

Night began folding over the sky. Dream leaned back as well, then, to look up at the stars. “When I was first… manifested. I had no identity of myself. I had some… sense… of… warmth. Love. However, there was nothing to cling to. All I truly had were… memories. His memories.” A small splash brought his attention back to the pond. One of the koi had grabbed a petal from the surface. “I was… compelled… to restore the Dreaming to what it once had been. To bring back… all of those who were lost. But when I tried to return Fiddler’s Green he… chastised me.” His brow furrowed – confusion pulling at him just as it had then. “He told me I had the power to restore everything. Everyone. Including… Morpheus. But that, to do so… would mean death had no meaning.”

Lying back fully on the grass, Nysa patted the ground beside her. After a moment, Dream breathed out and settled down at her side. She rested her folded hands on her belly.

“What did you think? When he told you that?”

Dream watched a comet trail through a dusting of green nebula. “I didn’t fully understand. I confess I… still grapple with it, even now.”

Nysa shrugged – rolling on her side and propping her cheek on her hand. “Life and death is the natural order of things. Even the universe is finite and will, someday, reach its end.”

A long breath slipped free as Dream rolled his head back and forth. “Death I understand. It is not death which I struggle to discern but, rather, the aspect of meaning in taking Death’s hand when one has so much life yet to live.”

Now rolling fully to her belly, Nysa watched a caterpillar crawl across her wrist. “Sacrificing for love – is that not the greatest sacrifice one can make?”

“And what about living for love? Facing all of the… the… complications? The hurt? Is that not, also, a worthy sacrifice? Does it not, likewise, have a cost? And also a reward worth having?”

Letting her fuzzy friend crawl slowly onto a leaf, Nysa finally sat back up. Dream did the same – brushing several blades of grass from his robes.

“I suppose… that depends on the individual. What they would want. You know what Fiddler’s Green wanted, after all. And you honored him by allowing him his rest. And, in the same manner, you honored Mervyn and Abel, who very much wanted to live.”

Dream nodded. “Yes.”

Still watching him, Nysa tilted her head. “So… what did Lord Morpheus want?”

oOo

Dream sat on his throne. He rolled the emerald stone between his fingers. Lucienne stood nearby – her face pinched and her hands clasped tight before her. On the floor, Matthew stepped from foot to foot.

“My Lord, are you… are you certain of this choice?”

Croaking loudly, Matthew shook his feathers. “Are you trying to talk him out of it?”

Looking down at his hand, clenched around the jewel, Dream breathed out slowly. “I… am not. But. I don’t know that I ever shall be.” He shook his head. “But this… choice… is not, truly, mine. And I… I must offer it to he whom it belongs.”

Standing, he carried down the curved staircase to the floor below. Lucienne looked on from above with Matthew hopping to the edge of the dais.

Stopping where the light from the moon pooled in a circle on the floor, Dream cradled the emerald in both hands.

He could feel a low rumble in the air. It felt as though the universe had paused in the moment. Stilled.

He closed his eyes.

The emerald, clenched tight, glowed.

“My predecessor. He who gave me this life. I beg forgiveness… even as I call upon you. Return to your former realm. To this life. He who is called… Morpheus.”

Distantly, there was thunder.

Then, in a lightning’s flash, Death stood before him.

She breathed out – smiling – as she walked towards him.

“What are you doing, little brother.”

Letting his hands fall away from the emerald, Dream dipped his head. “Greetings, my sister.”

She walked until she stood before him. Reaching forward, she took both his hands in hers. “You know, I always love to see you. Though, typically we ask before simply snatching one another from our tasks, hm?”

“My apologies. I had not intended to summon you.”

“No.” Death let their hands drop – tucking hers into her jacket pockets, “You were trying to call Morpheus. But you cannot simply call back the dead once they have gone to the Sunless Lands.” She sighed. “Morpheus followed Destiny’s path. At every turn, his actions led to an inevitable outcome. In the end… he was given a choice. And his choice saved his realm.”

“Forgive me but… that was no choice,” Dream tipped his head, just a fraction, “It was an ultimatum.”

His sister firmed her lips, though her eyes remained compassionate. “Dream. Morpheus lived his life. In the end, he earned his peace. He is in the Sunless Lands. It is the burden of the living that we carry on, now, without him.”

Turning back towards the stairs that led to his throne, Dream lowered himself to sit. A moment later, Death joined him – resting her hand, briefly, on his knee.

“Morpheus is in a land of peace. You would dishonor him to call him away from there. At the end… whatever led him there… he was ready.”

Dream’s fingers toyed with the emerald. “Perhaps.” Then he lifted his eyes to his sister. “Do not forget, though… that I carry his memories. And… he did not wish to die. He sought out deliverance from every entity, including the Kindly Ones, themselves. How was it honorable that he should pay with his life for sparing his son another moment of torment?” His voice dropped to a whisper, “Because you… chose to withhold your gift.”

Death stilled, then, and Dream turned away from her to look down at the jewel in his hands. “Please. My sister. Is it dishonorable to give him the choice he was denied?”

Behind them, Dream could hear the tapping of claws as Matthew shifted on his feet.

Dream turned to watch as Death pondered his words. As always, she was difficult to read.

“This has never been done before. We cannot know what repercussions it will cause.” she said – lifting her eyebrows.

Dream shrugged. “No. No more than we can predict what will come from having an Endless who was born of a human mother.”

Her smile lifted one corner of her lips. “You know, I can’t promise he’ll want to return with me.”

“But you’ll try?” Lucienne spoke from the dais before bowing her head. “Apologies, my Lady. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Death stood. “It’s alright. And, yes. I’ll try. But I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

Matthew flew up to land on Lucienne’s shoulder. “You’re really gonna bring back the Boss?”

Dream rose – moving to stand before Death. “With hope.”

Smiling, Death rested a hand on his arm. “Whatever happens, I look forward to seeing you again?”

Nodding, Dream smiled. “I should like that.”

Stepping away from him, Death slipped forward into a dark shadow.

And then she was gone.

oOo

“I don’t know why I ever thought he’d want to come back. It wasn’t like he was swimming in friends, you know? Just a librarian, a talking bird, and some dude he saw once every hundred years. Hell, half the people at his funeral had wanted him dead at some point.”

Lucienne lowered her chin – hands folded together on her desk. “He had more friends than you realize, Matthew. Lord Morpheus was loved by so many.”

“Yeah? Well, where were all these friends when the Boss had to go face the Furies?”

“We call them the Kindly Ones.”

“I’ll call them worse than that!” Matthew paced back and forth on the polished wood. “You weren’t there, at the end! You didn’t see the way they talked to him. They were enjoying it! As far as I’m concerned they’re a trio of fucking cun-”

“Matthew!” Lucienne stiffened – pressing her hands down flat before her.

Matthew’s beak clacked together in a series of hollow snaps.

It had been a month, since Lady Death had left them. There had been no word, since then. Dream had approached her, just once, to inquire if she’d heard anything. Since that time, he’d resumed his work on the Dreaming – as well as repairing relations with certain entities who’d felt scorned, in the past. Thankfully he’d not seen fit to undo everything. Azazel still remained in his bubble universe – and was likely to do so for some time to come.

Shuffling steps approached and Lucienne looked up as Mervyn came into view. “Hey, the Kid wants to know if you’ve got the Domovoi treaty somewhere.” he gestured towards the vast stacks of books and scrolls taking up the entirety of the space behind them.

Lucienne sent him a soft glare. “I’m sure his Lordship would prefer a more formal address.”

Mervyn shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s just us here, ain’t it?”

Matthew, still ruffled, shook his feathers. “I gotta go check in with Cain. I’ll see you guys later.”

Lucienne frowned and briefly reached out a hand. “Are you going to be alright?”

Shoulders hunching, Matthew hopped to the back of a chair. “Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Before Lucienne could reply, Matthew spread his wings and took off – soaring out through an upper window and into the night.

Mervyn turned to watch him go. “What’s his deal?”

Breathing in deeply, Lucienne stood and walked to a large collection of scrolls. “I think I have the treaty, here. I’ll bring it along shortly. Thank you, Mervyn .”

oOo

He hadn’t returned. Perhaps… it had been too much to believe… to hope. That fate could be undone.

Most of the Dreaming’s residents had acclimated well. The Dreaming was, after all, a realm of change. Lucienne could admit that many changes had been… nice. The castle was filled with warm light – chasing the gloom that had been building for the last few years before… Before. Dark marble had given way to gold and white. The most impressive addition, though, had to be the waterfall covering the entire wall behind the throne. Silvery water trickled through twisting branches filled with green leaves and white flowers. Through the water, tall windows let in the view of galaxies. It was incredibly beautiful.

Still…

Lucienne brushed a hand across the cover of the book in her hands. The Odyssey. She had been drawn to its story of late. A long journey. Trials and tragedy and… redemption. Lips curving down, sh e widened the space between two books to place it back on the shelf.

“Lucienne.”

She startled, but kept it from moving through her shoulders. What was it with these Endless skulking about like wraths? Dream certainly had that brooding specter thing down.

Book still in her hand, Lucienne turned at the summons.

“Yes, my Lor…” Her breath stopped – the book slipping from fingers to tumble to the floor. Forgotten.

Morpheus.

Her hands covered her mouth. Stinging creased her eyes as tears built, then fled down the curve of her jaw. “Oh!”

Morpheus dipped his eyes towards the floor. “I… must apologize… for…”

Moving forward, Lucienne wrapped her arms around his neck. Her voice squeezed through her aching throat. “You’ve come back!”

She felt his hesitation. However, before she could withdraw, slender arms lifted – encircling her. He held her tightly – his face tipping down to rest against her shoulder.

It was the flapping of wings that eventually parted them – Lucienne brushing the wet from her cheeks – noting the redness in the seam of Morpheus’s eyes.

“Hey, his Highness said I needed to see you…”

Stillness followed.

Morpheus turned – bending as he lowered himself to kneel on the floor. “Hello, Matthew.”

The raven remained in the doorway. His wings shuffled on his back. He stepped from foot to foot and the feathers on his head lifted.

“You left.”

Morpheus creased his eyebrows – aspect solemn. “I know.”

“You left… all of us. We did everything to save you and you left!” Matthew’s small feet stamped on the rug – feathers puffing up. “And you… you made me… leave you…” he whispered – voice shivering to nothing.

“I am… sorry… Matthew. I had not wished for you to be harmed.”

“Yeah? Well fuck you!” Matthew cawed and shook himself violently, tipping his head to squint furiously at Morpheus. He scraped his claws against the floor. “Don’t ever fucking do that again!”

Morpheus reached out a hand to stroke Matthew’s feathers. “I promise.”

Chapter Text

“So, have you thought about what you want to do?”

Morpheus hummed – trailing his hand through the branches of a flowering tree. A cascade of blossoms rained down – collecting in his hair. Death chuckled – plucking one of the cranberry red flowers from behind his ear.

They stopped there, beneath the tree. Death held the flower in her fingers – twirling it by the stem. Morpheus brushed most of the remaining blossoms from his hair.

“I… confess I am still… undecided.” He leaned back until his shoulders rested against the trunk of the tree. “Everything is so… different. So…” he breathed out – looking about the small glen where they stood together. “I… do not know what to do.”

Death leaned alongside him against the tree – one shoulder nudging him. “You know, you don’t have to decide right away, little brother.”

M orpheus lowered his chin – glancing at Death beneath his lashes. “Am I truly your brother any longer? Dream has been reborn. I am no longer Endless. I am no longer… family.”

Death smiled at him – resting her palm against his cheek. “Hey. You are always going to be my little brother. Endless or not.”

Eyes slipping closed, Morpheus leaned against her palm. Then, breathing out, he took the flower from her hands – letting it float to the ground where a tiny tree began to sprout. Death slid her hand into his. A small tug and the two of them continued deeper into the meadow.

“I saw him.” Morpheus took back his hand as they stopped.

His sister turned to look up at him. “Orpheus.”

A small nod. “He was… happy. At peace.”

Death tipped her head . “And? How did you feel?”

Attention drifting down to his hands, clasped tight before him, Morpheus swallowed. “… Like… I was home. ”

“So…” Lowering herself to the grass, Death wrapped her arms around her knees, “what led you back? Why leave that behind?”

H is head shook left to right – a slow contemplation. “I… there is no… logic to it. It was… a compulsion. I felt as though I was… wanted.”

Eyes going soft, Death smiled. “Yes. You were.”

oOo

After Death left him, Morpheus wandered through the glen, formerly known as Fiddler’s Green . He stood by a small lake and watched the water lap at the shore.

“I was not here for him.”

Nysa stepped to his side – the gauzy fabric of her gown lifting around her in the breeze. “He was here for you. He could not have asked for a more loving gift than to offer himself as protection for the Dreaming.” She tipped her head, “As you did.”

“And yet, I returned.”

Her hand rested on his arm. “As was your choice. As was his choice to stay at rest. You both have your reasons and neither one is wrong.” Turning towards the water, she closed her eyes and til t ed her head – breathing in. “There’s really nothing like the smell of a lake in spring – is there. All that fresh water and growing things. It sinks into your bones. Feels like rebirth.”

M orpheus, too, let his eyes close as he inhaled. The soft musk of flowers and wet vegetation blended with the metallic sweetness of the lapping waves. It was, indeed, pleasant. When he opened his eyes, once more, Nysa was watching him.

“This world – this realm – will always be here. No matter what you choose, you will never leave it behind.”

Morpheus blinked. Some ways off, swans fed on watercress that floated on the calm surface. The breeze lifted the hair from his forehead. “ I… shall consider your words. Thank you for your counsel, Lady Nysa.”

D eparting from her, he walked until her grove was far behind. Until the black sands on the shores of Creation shifted underfoot. Matthew joined him, there – flapping to land awkwardly – hopping as he found his footing.

“So…”

Morpheus lifted an eyebrow. “So.”

Making an occasional flutter and hop to keep up, Matthew did his best to keep pace. Morpheus slowed his steps.

“Lucienne said you still hadn’t made up your mind, yet, what you wanted to do.”

His path leading him along the shore, Morpheus sank his feet into wet sand – letting the waves soak the edge of his robes. “No.”

T he wind off the ocean briefly knocked Matthew to the side. Stopping, Morpheus angled away from the wind. Then he held out one arm. “Come.”

Matthew shuffled his feathers. “Uh… yeah, okay.” Flapping, he gained enough height to catch hold of Morpheus’s arm. From there, he made one more hop to rest on his shoulder. “Nice view.”

Without reply, Morpheus began walking once more.

A s the minutes passed, Matthew settled himself – nudging close enough that Morpheus could feel the warmth of his feathers against his neck.

“Can I come with you?”

Morpheus stopped again – turning towards the raven

“I mean… you know, if you end up, uh, going?”

“Matthew…”

“I know, I know. I should stay behind because Dream of the Endless always has a raven. As if I haven’t heard that one a thousand times. I just…” Matthew clenched his feet on the fabric in his grip, “I… I don’t want to lose you. Again.”

Head tipping, Morpheus pressed his lips together. “I do not know what this new life could bring. It could be quite dangerous.”

Matthew snorted. “Haven’t we had this conversation before? Besides – not like I haven’t already spent my share of time there. Probably less dangerous for me than for you.”

Lips quirked up as Morpheus lifted his eyes to take in the sky over the Dreaming.

“Well, then. In that case, we shall need to meet with someone.”

Matthew tipped his head. “Oh? Uh… who?”

oOo

Tall pillars lined the long length of the throne room. Ornate pale ivory marbled with veins of gold – the light reflected patterns against the walls. At the top of the winding steps sat the throne, itself. White marble led up to an ornate crown of woven flowers and birds in flight. Dream sat on his throne – Lucienne at his side with an open scroll. Dream had his chin resting on his hand but looked up at the sound of footsteps.

Lucienne stepped forward. “Lord Morpheus.”

The former King of the Dreaming dipped his head. “I am no longer your sovereign, Lucienne.”

Her lips pressed together – chest lifting with a deep breath. Then she offered a tiny smile. “Of course.”

Dream stood – walking down the stairs with Lucienne following a short distance behind. As he approached, he saw the raven huddled on Morpheus’s shoulder. About to speak, he paused. “You are not Matthew.”

Morpheus lifted one hand to guide the raven to his arm. “This… is your new raven. Should you wish it.”

Dream reached out – stroking fingers against the white patch on the back of the raven’s neck. “What is your name?”

The raven bowed its head. “I was once known as Unity Kinkaid, my Lord.”

“Unity…” Dream smiled; his voice lifted in wonder. “You shattered the Vortex to save your great-granddaughter, as well as the whole of reality. His eyes lifted to Morpheus. “You sought her out?”

“She has walked in the Dreaming since her death. It is a place she knows well – having spent most of her life here. I thought… she deserved the chance to explore a new life.”

Dream nodded. “And, as she had died in the Dreaming, she was allowed to remain here instead of moving on to the Sunless Lands.” He turned, then, to Unity. “Would you do me this great honor… to be my raven?”

Unity shuffled her wings – the white patch of feathers fluffing on her neck. “I would like that very much, Highness.” With only a small wobble, she stepped onto Dream’s out held arm.

Behind Morpheus, Matthew glided into the room to land on the floor. Dream smiled at him. “So, you’ve decided to leave us after all.”

Matthew twitched a foot up and down. “Uh…. Well… I…”

Dream knelt before him. One hand stroked over Matthew’s head. “You have my blessing, my friend. Besides,” he glanced up at Morpheus, “he needs you.”

Matthew cawed. “You can say that again.” Flapping up from the floor, Matthew returned to Morpheus’s shoulder as Dream stood upright.

Lucienne stepped close and smiled widely. “Unity Kinkaid. You look beautiful.”

Unity preened – her feathers lifting. “Thank you, my lady.”

Turning to Morpheus, Dream folded his hands. “So. You have decided.”

Morpheus lifted his eyes – taking in the eaves curving overhead – the ivory beams – the pale throne and the waterfall behind it. “I have.”

Dipping his chin in a bow, Dream held out one arm. “Very well. In that case, let us proceed.”

oOo

The birds chased one another as each morsel of seed landed among them. The larger pigeons tended to take the majority of the food. However, the wrens and finches, with their smaller bodies and speed, managed to get their share as well.

Hob gathered another handful of seed and scattered it on the grass.

He’d been coming to this park since Audrey’s death. It was… soothing. Watching the birds. Watching the people just… living their lives. Living. Just… living. Unlike him, they didn’t have an eternity. But… they just went about it as though they did. He didn’t see fear on their faces – knowing their lives were finite. They walked in the grass. They played games. The swam in the water and walked their dogs and ate and sang and laughed.

Hob rubbed at his eyes. He was out of seed but the birds hadn’t left, yet. They picked at the remains and had their little spats and didn’t care whether or not more was coming.

Leaning back against the bench, Hob drifted his attention to the clouds. Bit overcast. Didn’t feel like rain, though. He looked back out at the people wandering the park. Most were dressed for the weather – light cotton and sunglasses. So he immediately picked out the odd one in the mix. Taller gent – head to toe dark clothes. Heavy shoes. Black hair. Pale as a wraith.

Hob sighed and looked back down at his hands. He saw Audrey for weeks, afterward. Same thing with Peggy and Eleanor and… Robyn. He still saw Robyn in his dreams, at times. He didn’t think he’d ever stop dreaming of his son. He hoped he never did.

He tipped his head up again. The black clad figure was gone. His breath shuddered. Why did this loss hurt so much more? He always knew loss would be the cost of living. Everyone he loved. Everyone he knew. They were all just flashes of light in his ongoing life. But. But this was…

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to…

He rubbed at his eyes again. He knew better than to say it wasn’t fair but… it wasn’t fair. He wanted to fight something. Someone. He wanted to kill someone, truth be told. Time was he could find a battle and swing his sword for any number of rulers. He could spend his rage and grief in blood and…

Still feel empty, afterward.

But for a small time, he could pretend that it helped.

A soccer ball bounced across the grass until it bumped into his leg. Hob sniffed – then leaned over to pick it up.

“Oh, sorry mate! Mind tossing it here?”

Hob sat up – working a smile into his expression. “No harm done. Here you go.” He tossed the ball back towards the young kid stood several feet away. He watched him as he caught it – grinning – before darting off towards his friends. A figure moved into the blurred edge of Hob’s peripheral vision. Probably someone wanting to share the bench for a friendly chat. Wouldn’t be the first time. But.

“Sorry – I’m just leaving. Enjoy the afternoon, friend.”

“Hello, Hob.”

He froze.

Not the first time he’d wandered through delusion. But, it had been at least seventy and some years, since the last time. Not now… Tremors started in his hands and he curled his fists tight enough to hurt. A large bird glided down to the grass – scattering the other birds as it started clawing at the ground.

“Oh, hey, peanuts! Nice!”

Fuck. This was not going well at all. He really couldn’t afford to be sectioned.

“Hob?”

He rubbed his eyes for the third time – until stars flashed in his vision. Then he turned his head.

His jaw trembled. “Christ…” The man in front of him wavered and blurred and Hob gulped as stinging became a wet burn that overwhelmed him. He choked on the flood and began to shake as the first sob hit. “Christ… I… y-you’re not… fuck…” Bowed at the waist, he covered his face in his hands and gave in.

There was the sense of movement – fabric shifting. Then someone sat next to him. Hob wanted to apologize but his voice was lost in his grief. Jesus, it hadn’t been this bad since the morning he woke up, after the fucking funeral. Something that he’d tried so hard to believe, had truly been a nightmare, and nothing more.

Some minutes slipped by before the cascade of tears began to ease. His throat was throttled tight and his nose felt puffy. Shaking sniffs took over as he dug out a handkerchief to scrub over his face.

“I’m sor – I’m sorry…” he hiccuped.

The stranger, next to him, rested a hand on his knee.

“It is I who must apologize.”

That voice.

His neck felt stiff as Hob turned – terrified to turn.

Red rimmed blue eyes, deep as galaxies, looked back.

Hob blinked. Squeezed his eyes tight before opening them slowly. That face… that beloved face… still watched him.

Another sob worked free.

“H-have I gone mad?” he whispered, “or is this… this is a dream. I fell asleep on the bench and I’m dreaming.”

A hand, warm and soft, reached out to rest along his jaw. The thumb brushed away a tear that slid down his cheek.

“This is no dream, Hob Gadling.”

Dream.

There was a sudden rush of breath, and a loud caw, as Hob surged forward to wrap his arms around the slender figure before waking took it away. More tears shook from him. He could feel warmth and the solid movements of muscle and bone as arms held him back.

“You’re here. Right? This is real? I’m awake? Please, God, let me be awake…”

“You are in the Waking, Hob.” Soft and deep and reverberating through his chest in a rumble. He even felt the heat from breath against his ear. His dreams had never held such profound details. His heart wasn’t prepared to believe it, though. When he opened his eyes it would be gone – surely.

“You’re dead. I was at your funeral. I saw Lucienne.”

Flapping behind him and a small form touched down on the bench. “Yeah, I was there. You were like, the worst dressed person, by the way. You couldn’t spring for a tux?”

“Matthew…”

Hob started giggling. Too wild and too loud but he couldn’t stop it. His eyes opened.

And…

Dream was still there – lips tight and pouted as he glared over Hob’s shoulder. Hob brought his attention back by placing both hands on either side of his face. His skin felt cool. Hob felt the movement of his jaw as Dream spoke.

“Hello.”

A smile pushed through the drying crust of sorrow. “Hello… my Stranger.”

He couldn’t stop his fingers from their gentle caress. Dream didn’t appear to mind.

“Is this real? Truly?”

A pale hand rose to his – squeezing with firm solidarity. “It is real. Be at peace, Hob.”

The well had yet to run dry, clearly, as new tears began to follow the dried paths left on his face. This time, however, he was grinning as well.

“How can this be? Many a miracle I’ve seen in my life but, no matter how much I’d prayed to any god, I’ve never seen the dead returned to life.” Then he chuckled. “’Course, not everyone can claim Death as a sister, can they.” He gulped; using his arm to brush against his cheek so he didn’t have to let go. A wounded sound rasped from his throat. “You said… you told me you weren’t… coming back.”

Dream lowered his eyes.

“I confess that… I had not intended to do so…”

His hands slipping from Dream’s face, Hob, instead, let them rest on his shoulders. The tremor started to return – making him grateful to be sat on a solid surface.

“You’re… are you… Please don’t go. Not again…” Begging was never his way, with Dream. He took whatever small time was granted – grateful and blessed to have even that much favor. But his heart…

“No. I shall not be leaving again.” Dream’s face did something painful – his eyes still looking anywhere but at Hob. “I… am no longer what I was.”

Hob didn’t quite know what that meant. He did know he was battling against a sudden bout of weakness so, with reluctance, he released his hold to rest his hands on his knees.

“I met him. The other one – the other Dream.”

His friend shook his head. “There is only one Dream. I no longer carry that name. I am… no longer Endless.”

Hob looked up at him through his fringe; trying to keep the hum of panic from his voice. “What does that mean? Not being Endless. Are you…?”

“Mortal?” Dream – Morpheus – furrowed his eyebrows. “I am… something new. Not Endless. Not quite mortal.”

Rubbing sweat from his palms, Hob pushed himself slightly more upright. Nearby, Matthew glided back down to the grass to scrape for any remaining seeds.

“Will you be going back to the Dreaming?”

Sadness creased his eyes as Morpheus looked out across the park and the people within it.

“It is no longer my home.”

Taking the risk, Hob reached out to rest his hand on the cool fingers clenched tight on black trousers. After a moment, Morpheus loosened them – turning his hand into Hob’s.

Hob smiled. “It will be alright, love. We’ll figure something out.”

Morpheus, seeming to contemplate that, eventually sighed – leaning back against the bench.

“I am grateful to you… my friend.” He didn’t release his hand.

And Hob was content – holding him in return.

Together, they watched the people.

And if Hob pressed a little closer, held a little tighter – well, His Dream didn’t seem to mind that. And, just maybe, he pressed back in return.

Maybe… maybe there was a future for them, after all.

Hob wouldn’t mind that.

Somewhere – someplace in the base of his skull – he could swear he heard a familiar chuckle.

Yeah, okay. First, however, there was a lot to do. Forms and signatures and a bit of forgery. Nothing he wasn’t familiar with. Mortal life – all it entailed. How much did Morpheus know about that? He’d never seen him eat. Did he eat, now? Was he hungry? What about sleep?

He felt a thumb rubbing across his knuckles – cutting short the thoughts before they could become manic.

He breathed in and out.

He focused on the touch between them. How long had he wished for this? Just this. Just… touch.

The impulse was too great to resist.

Lifting one pale hand – he delicately pressed his lips to soft knuckles. Morpheus breathed in, sharp, at his side.

“Been wanting to do that since 1789.”

When he glanced to his right, Morpheus was watching him – eyes a bit hooded. There was less melancholy there.

“Truly. I seem to recall rather, potent, daydreams before our time was cut short.”

Hob rubbed the back of his neck – his face feeling warm. “Saw that, did you?”

Morpheus smiled. “Your thoughts are quite loud, at times.”

Turning a bit, his knee brushing against Morpheus’s leg, Hob cupped both of his hands around the fingers in his hold. He did nothing more. Just held that one hand. Felt the texture of his skin. The steady pulse at the base of the thumb.

Alive.

His head throbbed and he felt a renewed sting in the flesh beneath his eyes.

“I missed you.” he whispered. Barely a breath that hitched at the end.

Morpheus lifted his head. His brows were pushed together and there was a renewed sadness in his expression.

“I… am truly sorry, Hob.”

Hob worked together a smile that only wobbled a little.

“I’m not blaming you, dove. And you’re here. You’re here and… I…”

He closed his mouth on the rest of it. Too soon.

Morpheus joined his other hand with the one already held.

“If you would… accept… I shall not leave you again.” His eyes were galaxies as he looked back at Hob. “Please. Tell me what you wished to say.”

Hob gulped. Behind him, Matthew had grown still – the fucker was probably listening to everything. Staring back into eyes that could drown the heavens, he scrambled for courage.

“I just… well I wanted to say… that…” he breathed – desperate for breath, “I wish I had been more brave. All of those times. I wish… that I had said… buggar it.” He stared at the sky – unable to find one scrap of composure in the gaze before him. “Anything other than just talking about my own life every bloody time. If it hadn’t made you just up and storm out on me again, o’ course.” he chuckled. “But… it was never the right time. Thing is I… for the last four-hundred years I… I’ve wanted…” he gasped, looking back down, “oh hell,”

Pressing forward, he tasted the fullness of blossom dark lips, soft against his own.

Before he could question it, Morpheus pulled his hands away, only to cradle Hob’s jaw and rise against him – mouth open and wanting.

Hob was lost in it. The universe was born and died and born again. Planets crumbled to dust and new life formed on far off worlds.

He pulled them more tightly together – hands buried in feather soft hair. He forgot where he was – lost in a far away realm of light and music.

He’d have let himself die for lack of air had not Morpheus been the first to pull back – panting hard.

Hob rested their foreheads together. All he could hear was their breathing – growing in sync.

Eventually, centuries after, he lifted enough to press another kiss to that beloved brow. And finally… finally… he said what had been singing in his heart.

“I love you.”