Written for and inspired by the lovely Are Are in response to her wonderful fic 'Haunts'. Go read it if you haven't already!
"Are you going to wake up today?" Jimmy's voice sounded strange to his own ears, as though he were listening to it through a telephone.
Instead of cigarette smoke, Thomas blew away a leaf from a low-hanging branch. "I don't think so." He said, laughing. He looked a few years younger than Jimmy; his black hair loose in the summer breeze. He was wearing a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His face was touched by sun in a way it never was. "I don't know why I'd bother, when I could stay here with you."
Jimmy was troubled by this news, but he wasn't sure why. "You know I can't stay."
Thomas wasn't looking at him, but he had a grin on his face as they walked. "You always say that." He answered, coyly. "But then, here you are."
Jimmy tipped his head back, watching the sky, instead of where he placed his feet. "It's such a nice day. Thomas- Mr. Barrow, I don't remember what it is I meant to tell you."
"Doesn't matter." He said. He was smoking again. He pointed his cigarette towards a small stone building. "This was my house, growing up."
"It does matter- really?" He asked. The roof was covered in fallen leaves, and the stones were wet with rain. The windows had been smashed out.
"Hmm." Thomas made a noise of discontent. He put on a jacket. "I'll never see it again." His voice sounded older. "It's fallen in. It's been twelve years since I've been here."
Jimmy took a step towards it. "No, Jimmy, I don't want to go in. I never saw what happened to it." Thomas turned away, and the leaves they had walked under were now yellow. Heavy, gray rainclouds had moved in. Thomas leaned against the trunk of a tree.
"Won't you come back? I have something I need to tell you, and I can't say it here." Jimmy's voice sounded pleading through the telephone-noise.
Thomas turned away. "Jimmy, I can't. I don't know how. I've never been any good at this sort of thing."
Jimmy sighed, leaning next to him against the tree. The clouds threatened to spill, swirling above them. He sighed again. "Do you remember anything?" He asked.
Thomas let out a short, mirthless laugh. "What d'you want to know? I remember the house." He gestured behind them. "I remember the war. I remember the other house, that big one? And of course I remember you."
Jimmy shoved his hands into his pockets. "I feel badly. I shouldn't have run off."
Thomas shook his head. "Yes, you should have. Otherwise-"
It was a long stretch of time, but the clouds parted. Thomas was still smoking, a cigarette that never seemed to end. He took off his coat, and slung it over his shoulder. "Jimmy." He said, smiling again. "When I first saw you, I didn't know what to think." He started to walk again, a flash of gray at his temples. His face was tired and worn.
Jimmy frowned. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" Thomas asked innocently, raising his eyebrows. "I'm only telling the truth. I didn't know what to think. I thought maybe you had come to find me. I don't know." He sighed, sounding tired.
"It hasn't been so long." Jimmy felt his voice getting far away. He struggled to project it forward. "It's only been a few weeks. You're aren't going miss your whole life."
"I wanted to say that I love you. I wanted to say it to dream-you because it won't make you upset. At least I said it." Thomas nodded, resolutely. "There, I've said it, then."
Jimmy reached for Thomas's arm. "Please stop walking. You keep pacing and pacing and I lose the thread of our conversation." He managed to make Thomas stand still long enough to stamp out his cigarette. His hair was all dark again.
"What were we talking about?" He asked.
"Oh!" Jimmy answered, then slumped. "I don't remember. Are you waking up today?"
Thomas shook his head. "I won't do it, dream-Jimmy. I think I'd miss you. And my head would hurt an awful lot."
Jimmy shook his head, squeezing the back of his own neck. "Ah, not as bad as my neck hurts."
"Worse." Thomas said, smiling smugly. "You've fallen asleep in the chair next to my bed again. I can hear you breathing."
"What?"
Jimmy startled himself awake, his own voice ringing in his ears and his neck protesting painfully as he sat up straight. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the afternoon light. Thomas was motionless on his bed, his brow furrowed, his arms still by his sides. Jimmy let out a breath, feeling a sense of disappointment settle over him, like he'd almost expected him to be awake this time.
Jimmy picked up the book in his lap, thumbing to the page where he'd left off. "Alright, Mr. Barrow." He said, his voice thick with sleep. It was his half day, and he was in no rush to be anywhere in particular. "Where was I- ah. 'Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It was a page torn from a notebook. The markings were done in pencil, and ran in this way:', well... you can't see it right now, Mr. Barrow, but it's showing these drawings of stick figures dancing." He held up the book for a moment, as though letting Thomas see.
"'Holmes explained it for some time...'" He read on and on, until the sun had set and he had to turn on the lamps.
His eyes were tired from reading when he went down to dinner. He sat silently at the table. He wanted to talk, he really did, but he felt wrong enjoying his time while Thomas was stuck upstairs. He ate, he laughed with everyone else a little bit at something Alfred said.
"Jimmy, are you still worryin' about Mr. Barrow?" Daisy's voice interrupted his thoughts, her hands full of dirty plates. He was uncomfortably aware of many pairs of eyes on him.
"Yes. I can't help but worrying. It's my fault he ended up the way... the way he did." His eyes traced a whorl in the wood planking of the table.
Mrs. Hughes made a tsking noise at him. "Now James, I'm sure Mr. Barrow wouldn't blame you for it. After all, you were running to get help."
He nodded slowly, but he felt no better. That was why he took it upon himself to sit up, talking to Thomas and watching over him. He had sat with him every spare moment since he'd been brought back to Downton from the hospital. He hoped his voice would rouse the other man. He needed to do something to make up for all the damage that had been done.
Jimmy stopped in to check on Thomas before he went to sleep. The staff took turns keeping an eye on him, and every once in a while, Jimmy would find Lady Edith watching over him. She'd said it reminded her of during the war, when the house had been used as a convalescent home. Jimmy stopped by all the same, and any time he woke up in the night. Sometimes Mrs. Hughes would be nodding off in the chair, sometimes it was Mr. Carson, even, sometimes it was Anna. He'd caught O'Brien leaving, once. Sometimes, Thomas was alone in the early morning. Jimmy wanted to suggest that he move into the room to keep an eye on him, but he didn't know what people would think.
Mrs. Hughes was leaving Thomas's room with a tray as he came in. "Oh, James." She smiled wanly, her eyes tired. "I didn't see you there. I was just bringing Mr. Barrow some soup."
Jimmy knew that Thomas would abhor the idea of being so helpless. He felt indignant on his behalf.
Mrs. Hughes sighed, looking at Thomas's sleeping face from the doorway. "He looks so young. Too young." She left the end unspoken: too young for someone who would never really live again.
"He's still in there." Jimmy said, matter-of-factly. "He will wake up, someday."
She nodded, and smiled sadly at Jimmy. "You're right. Get some rest, though."
"I'm going to sleep in here tonight, on the floor. I'll make sure he gets enough water. You don't have to get up again." Jimmy said. Mrs. Hughes made a face like she would tell him no, but she patted his arm instead.
"Only if you promise to be up and dressed by the time the nurse gets here tomorrow. We don't need you scandalizing her." She said, and left.
Jimmy was running through a lot of smoke. It wasn't smoke from a wood fire, or smoke from a cigarette. It was a grey-green kind of smoke, with a sickly smell to it. His boots were sticking in the mud. It was raining, the bitter cold kind of rain that felt like icicles stabbing your cheeks and neck.
He saw not another soul, but he ran on, one hand on the trench mud-wall, to guide him through the haze. Bullets began to whiz above his head. He was grabbed by an abject sense of fear- they were looking for him, and he was the only one left alive.
Far away, Jimmy heard someone sobbing. He followed the noise for an eternity, but only the sound of artillery grew louder. He forced himself to focus, pushing closer.
"Oh god, help me, please." A man reached out to Jimmy as he ran by. "Please, help us." His uniform was caked in blood and dirt. He was desperately clutching the body of a soldier.
Jimmy stopped, though his mind told him to run. This must have been the man he'd heard crying. The soldier he held on to was dead, his face covered in angry red scars that looked like an unfortunate acid splash.
"Thomas?" Jimmy asked. His voice was quiet but somehow audible.
"I tried to save him, I did." Thomas sobbed, shaking the soldier's shoulders. "I tried, I loved him. I thought I could stop him, but he ran in front of the guns."
Jimmy grabbed Thomas's arm. "We have to get up, we have to go. You have to leave him here, I'm sorry." Jimmy dragged him away, Thomas stumbling almost blindly behind him.
"You don't understand. I can't leave him. Who will take care of him, now that he can't see?"
Jimmy held on to Thomas's injured hand, his own hand covered in Thomas's blood. "I'm sorry, Thomas. He's beyond help, now. But you aren't." He led Thomas to a dugout. Inside, dirt rained down on their helmets.
Thomas sat on a cot. His face was covered in mud, and streaked with tears or rain or both. "Jimmy?" He asked, finally, his voice a bare whisper.
"Yes." Jimmy nodded, pacing. "We have to find a way out."
Thomas was lighting a cigarette. "Oh. Well, why didn't you say so? I know the way out." He took off his helmet, his hair neat and combed. He was now dressed in his livery. "I know all the secret passageways. I'll have to show you sometime." He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to a door in the wall. "This goes right out into the gardens. I found in once when I was snooping around in the cellar."
"Well?" Jimmy asked.
"Well what?" Thomas brushed dirt off his shoulder.
"Are you coming with me?" Jimmy asked, resting his and on the doorknob.
"Obviously."
They walked out into the yard, under a blanket of summer stars. The sky was so black and the stars were so bright, Jimmy was sure he knew how many of them there were just by looking. The house was far away, with all the lights on.
"They're having some kind of ball, I think." Thomas nodded towards the yellow-lit windows. "They won't miss us." He threw a quilt over the grass.
Jimmy sat down, leaning back on his elbows. He was much more comfortable now, in his pajamas. Thomas sat cross-legged next to him, still smoking placidly.
"Back in the trenches," Jimmy felt himself asking. "Who was that man?"
Thomas shook his head. "I never saw him in the trenches. He died in the hospital." He pointed in the direction of the village. "Edward."
"Oh." Jimmy asked. The air was warm around them. He thought he could hear music from the house. "You've got to wake up, you can't keep living in dreams."
"Oh, I don't know. I like it here. No one to bother me, 'cept you." He smiled at Jimmy in the dark. "This is what I wanted, but it could never be like this, not for me."
"But it's not like this, this isn't real. You're just imagining all this." Jimmy watched a shooting star cross the sky, slower than in waking life.
"You are too." Thomas said, in a tone that sounded privately amused.
Jimmy laid back, his head resting in the damp grass. Thomas leaned on his elbow next to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I wish you would wake up, and everything would be alright again."
Thomas laughed once. "Nothing has ever been alright, Jimmy."
"What can I do to convince you?" He asked.
Jimmy fell asleep while Thomas considered, or at least he felt like he slept, listening to the crickets and the jazz wafting from the house.
"Jimmy." Thomas shook his shoulder, the trail of smoke from his cigarette crossing over Jimmy's face. When he opened his eyes, the sky was the deep gray of approaching dawn. "Jimmy, hold on to this. Try to remember that I'm still alive."
"I do remember." He answered, insistent. Thomas shook his head.
"When the sun rises, remember me. Please. I can't come back if you don't."
Jimmy didn't understand. "What? Why?"
Thomas looked confused. "I don't even know what I'm saying." He sounded dejected. "Don't take the blame, Jimmy. I wanted to protect you. I couldn't have you lying in this bed like I am. You're stronger than me, at that. I couldn't have stood it, if it were you in my place. Wouldn't've been able to live, I think."
Jimmy could feel himself drifting off or waking up.
"I'm sorry I tried to kiss you." Thomas was saying.
"S'okay." He mumbled. "I'm not mad anymore."
He could feel Thomas's laughter. "Just because I'm an invalid, now?"
Jimmy awoke. The sun was blearily making it's way into the sky. His shoulder hurt from sleeping on the wood floor. He sat up, anxious to see if Thomas had woken, too. He hadn't, though his face now looked peaceful in sleep.
Jimmy recalled the sound of bullets hitting mud, the sick smell of smoke, a clear night under the stars. Thomas's voice next to his ear. His brow furrowed as he struggled to recall his dreams. Then, clear as a bell, he heard Thomas's words in his head. 'When the sun rises, remember me.'
"What a strange dream." He said to Thomas, used to voicing his thoughts aloud in this room. How could he forget the other man, when he was sleeping on the floor in his room? When his recovery was Jimmy's primary concern?
It wasn't the first time he got the impression that he'd dreamed of Thomas. Naturally, he was on Jimmy's subconscious mind as well as his conscious. But there was something nagging at him, this morning. Remember what?
Jimmy checked on Thomas, resting his hand on his chest, to make sure his heart was still beating and that he was still breathing. "You need to get up, Mr. Barrow." He said, sitting gingerly on the bed. "You've got a lot of work to catch up on. The house is really suffering without you." Somehow, Jimmy knew that wasn't motivation enough for him, but he wasn't sure what else to say.
"If you wake up, maybe we can go look at the stars some night." Jimmy surprised himself with the words, almost wondering if he could take them back. They hung in the air around him, tugging at his memory. Maybe that had been in his dream. He wondered why he was dreaming of things like that.
He returned to Thomas's room that night with his pillow and blankets. The door was open, and he found O'Brien inside. He walked into the room. He was only wearing his pajamas, but he wanted her to know how much he didn't want her there.
She looked up at him, face neutral. "So you're his caretaker, then?"
He knew he looked angry, but he didn't care. "I don't see how it's any of your business." He threw his blankets on the floor.
She stood. "Don't mind me. Just paying my respects." She may have looked a bit sad.
"He's not dead." Jimmy spat. He knew he should control his temper, but he blamed her almost as much as he blamed himself.
"James." She said, halfway to the door. "If it's worth anything-"
"It isn't." He cut her off. She left, and he closed the door behind her.
Jimmy sat on the bed and read for a while. He wanted to make sure he was close enough for Thomas to hear his voice. "'It is years since the incidents of which I speak took place, and yet it is with diffidence that I allude to them. For a long time, even with the utmost discretion and reticence, it would have been impossible to make the facts public-'" He read different things too, the newspaper, a joke book he borrowed from Alfred. He went through it looking for the bawdiest ones, the ones in bad taste, the ones he thought would hake Thomas laugh. As though he would rise just to have a chuckle at them.
Jimmy gave him water from a glass, though half of it ended up in his own lap. He watched him for a long while, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes moving behind his closed eyelids. Sometimes they did, but they didn't tonight.
"I'm going to have to go to sleep soon, Mr. Barrow." He told Thomas, who was impassive. Jimmy imagined that he was trying to respond. "I've been having dreams with you in them, I think. I'm trying to remember them." He spoke very quietly, like it was a secret between them. "I'll try to think clearly about them, tonight."
He laid in front of the cold fireplace, wondering if he should drag his mattress in the next night. It would be easier for everyone that way, if he were always there to keep an eye on him at night. He didn't mind, in fact, it was his burden to carry.
"Back so soon?" Thomas asked him, looking over his shoulder. He sat on a bench facing a snowy mountain. Jimmy sat next to him, bewildered.
"Where are we?"
Thomas shrugged. "I saw of photograph like this once. I think it's a place called Alaska. I'm just guessing the colors." Pine trees sprung to life, coated in dark green.
Jimmy knew there was something he meant to say. "I've just been awake. I was in your room."
Thomas nodded. "And?"
Jimmy desperately tried to hang on to his thoughts, but they were swirling away in a curiously temperature-less breeze. "Wait, no."
"You think the lake is frozen over, then?" Thomas asked, pointing to the glassy surface.
Jimmy shrugged. "Probably." Thomas began to walk towards it. Jimmy grabbed his arm, walking with him.
"You need to wake up." He shook him insistently. "We're both here, in your room. You have to wake up. I'm so afraid that you never will."
Thomas stepped out on to the ice. He held his cigarette in his mouth and slid across the surface in his shoes. "Jimmy, come out here!" He called behind him.
Jimmy felt like he was going to slip. He didn't know how Thomas stayed upright. "Thomas! Wait!"
Thomas paused, his cheeks red, his breath visible in the cold that Jimmy couldn't feel, smiling. "What is it, then? What do you keep going on about?"
"Thomas-" The ice became a cobblestone road. Big flakes of snow fell at his feet. "I need to know what will wake you up."
Thomas threw up his hands, but he was still smiling. "I haven't any idea. Don't see why I should have to."
"Because you have to." The wind was whipping away Jimmy's voice again. "You said it would work, if I remembered something."
Thomas came back over to him. "Alright." He nodded seriously. "You have to remember that I'm here with you. That you're here with me. No one else has come to see me."
Jimmy shook his head. "I don't understand. How could anyone else see you? This is my dream."
Thomas laughed. "This is my dream, Jimmy. I'm the one who can't wake up."
Jimmy shook his head. "It's my dream! I'm dreaming right now."
Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. "Then it's our dream."
Jimmy was confused. He almost let the snow blot Thomas out. "Wait, no!" He stumbled through the whiteout. Thomas's hand reached through and pulled him out.
They were back at Downton, walking under the windows. "Why," Jimmy asked. "-why do I need to remember this? I know it now, what's the problem?"
Thomas's arm was around his shoulders. "Because, love, what reason do I have to wake up, to come back to this-" he gestured to the windows, which were dark, like no one was inside. "-when I could travel the world with you, for the rest of my life?"
Jimmy pulled away from him. "This isn't your life!" He yelled, but his voice sounded afraid. "You've never been to, to- Alaska or wherever. You'll never go, if you don't wake up."
Thomas scoffed at him. "Of course I have. I've been everywhere."
"Thomas..." Jimmy couldn't give up, but the other man refused to listen. "There are things you can't imagine."
"It's not just my imagination." He pointed to a door, and then they were in a room Jimmy didn't recognize. His eyes traced the patterns in the wallpaper for an eternity. They moved like liquid, until he realized they were still, a swirl of green and gold-foil brocade. Sleepily, he forced himself to look around the room.
"Where are we?" Jimmy asked. Thomas was examining a wooden box on a table, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He fiddled with a dial, and then the fuzzy notes of a song filled the room. Outside, Jimmy could see the lights of a city in the dark.
"London." Thomas said, resting his cigarette in an ash tray. "Look at this old thing. The new ones are much better. Knobs are so touchy." He tapped the box.
"What is it?" Jimmy asked. "A gramophone?"
"Radio. We need a new one."
Jimmy felt his head spinning. He sat in an armchair.
"There's a new Hitchcock flick playing, should we go? It's called 'Blackmail'," Thomas was asking, a roguish grin on his face. Jimmy pressed his hand to his forehead. He wondered if he was running a fever. "I quite liked that last one we saw. The sound was a bit off though."
"I guess we should go." Jimmy found himself saying, as he put on his shoes. "Wait, no, Thomas, I don't feel well." He made himself sit. "I keep losing track of what's happening."
Thomas was kneeling in front of him. "Jimmy, are you alright?"
Jimmy shook his head. "I think I'm dreaming."
"Mmm." Thomas nodded. "I guess that could be it."
Jimmy could feel tears filling his eyes, but he wasn't sure why. He told himself that he was being ridiculous. "Please wake up, Thomas. You're scaring me."
Thomas looked crestfallen. "Why would I want to wake up from this? Look at everything we've done here, Jimmy. I can't go back now."
Jimmy felt a tear track down his face. He wiped it away, angry. "This isn't right, Thomas, I don't want to see these things yet."
Thomas sighed. The room melted away, and then they were back under the stars, like the night before. The song from the radio was now wafting over from Downton. "You remembered this, didn't you?"
He nodded, the summer air easing away his fears. "I think so."
Thomas turned his head, so that they were looking at each other in the eyes. "Are you really here?"
Jimmy nodded. "Yes, I'm really here."
Thomas lit a new cigarette, having abandoned the old one in London. "I keep a picture of you in the second drawer in my dresser. I know you'll be mad about that."
Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "Where'd you get that?" He asked.
"Was a picture taken of the Granthams, Mary, Edith. You were standing on the side." Thomas admitted.
Jimmy stood up, preparing to run to the house. "And I can find it, if I look?"
"Yes," Thomas laughed at him. "But wait 'till morning."
"No." Jimmy shook his head. "I have to wake up now, or I'll forget."
Thomas waved his hand, cigarette smoke making an arc in the air. "Alright then. See you soon."
Jimmy was sitting up before he realized he was awake. It was so dark in Thomas's room that he didn't know whether or not his eyes were open. He was covered in a cold sweat. The memories of his dream swirled around his head, making him dizzy. He got up, and turned on the lights, half expecting to see Thomas sitting up. He wasn't.
Jimmy opened the second dresser drawer, rifling through old letters and newspaper clippings frantically. On the bottom of the stack, he found a large photograph. It was grainy, and the family was posed in the dining room. He remembered the flash of it being taken at a party the summer before, but he never realized that he had ended up in it. But he was in it, standing off to the side, holding a tray of cocktails.
His hands were shaking. He looked over to Thomas, who had not moved, yet his expression... Jimmy thought he could have imagined it, but Thomas looked like he was concentrating on something. "Mr. Barrow..." He turned to him, holding the photograph, like he expected an explanation.
There was one, however unbelievable. Thomas was stuck in his body, dreaming away his life, and Jimmy- only Jimmy, was invited to come along.
He sat next to him. "I remember now, Thomas. I remember our dreams. I-" Jimmy didn't know what to do. He shook Thomas's shoulder, but he was limp, like dead weight. "I'll find a way to wake you up, I swear it."
Jimmy held on to his new found knowledge of their shared dreams. In fact, it seemed to preoccupy him at all hours of the day. While serving dinner, he went through the motions. He would glance around every few minutes, hoping to catch Thomas's eye. Dinner was a somber affair now, in any case.
"How's Mr. Barrow? Anything change?" Alfred asked him at dinner. Jimmy was startled out of his thoughts.
"I don't know." He answered, cautiously. "He seemed more... alert today, I think."
Alfred nodded slowly. Jimmy could tell by the look on his face that he thought it was wishful thinking, but had decided not to say so.
"I overheard Mrs. Hughes talking to Carson. Dr. Clarkson came by earlier. She said he was saying that after this long, they got no way of knowing when or if he'll ever come out of it."
Jimmy could feel his expression sour. "I know what they think, but that doesn't change facts that they don't know."
He could feel Alfred's eyes on him. Jimmy was anxious to go upstairs.
"You can't blame yourself forever, y'know?" Alfred was advising him.
"Of course I can." Jimmy answered.
He paced the floor for an hour, waiting for the Anna and Mrs. Hughes to leave Thomas's room. He had his blankets and pillow bundled, and had already pulled the mattress off the frame. It was waiting on the floor.
He stayed dressed so that he could check the room without scandalizing the women. He peered in through the door, anxious for them to leave.
"Hello, James." Anna greeted him as Mrs. Hughes layered Thomas with clean blankets. He nodded at her.
"James, you don't need to keep an eye on him every night. Mr. Carson or I can switch off with you." Mrs. Hughes told him. He smiled politely at her.
"If it's all the same to you, Mrs. Hughes, I wouldn't sleep very well if I couldn't check up on him. It's become quite a habit." He said in the tone of an admission.
She nodded. "Well, let us know if you need a break."
Jimmy stood in the room with them, watching Thomas's face. "I swore today- earlier-" He hadn't meant to speak aloud. "I swore he was, he was making a face, like he was trying to wake up."
He saw Mrs. Hughes and Anna exchange glances. "I swear it. Like he was thinking about something."
"We all want to believe that's true, Jimmy." Anna said. She wore the same sad smile that Mrs. Hughes showed him so often. "But you shouldn't read too much into it. Maybe he's just dreaming."
Jimmy nodded. "Well yes, of course he's dreaming." He knew they thought he was a lost cause. Everyone did- he knew they talked about it when he wasn't there. It didn't matter, it wouldn't matter when Thomas finally woke up.
Eventually they left. Jimmy changed and dragged his mattress into the room. He didn't care what anyone said, he was leaving it in there. He wanted to sleep, desperately, to find the clues to what would release Thomas from his prison- but he was too anxious. He read to him for a while, but he kept losing his spot on the page.
"Thomas. I know you can hear me." He was quite sure that was true. "You have to help me. I can't wake you up if you don't want to wake up."
Jimmy thought that he saw his eyelids twitch.
He turned off all the lights and tried to sleep. After endless minutes, he finally began to doze off.
"Jimmy, look at this." His eyes flew open, then. He checked on Thomas, sure this time that he would be awake. Again, he was not.
It took him another half hour to get to sleep.
"Where'd you go before?" Thomas asked him. He was standing knee deep in a pond, his pant legs rolled up, and stripped down to his undershirt. The air was heavy and muggy with heat.
Jimmy couldn't help laughing. Thomas was disheveled, his hair falling in front of his face. "What are you doing?"
"Swimming, of course. You getting in? It's hotter'n Hell out."
Jimmy looked down at himself. He was similarly dressed. "Alright." He dove in.
They swam for hours, the summer sun stalled in the sky. Jimmy followed Thomas to a rock near a waterfall. "I keep trying to talk to you, but you create all these diversions." Jimmy told him when they were both sitting on the rock. A flash of inspiration struck him. "You were right, Thomas! You were right, I found the photograph!"
Thomas was smoking again. "Did you, now?"
Jimmy nodded. "I remembered it when I woke up, and it was true. All of these dreams, we share them, Thomas."
Thomas nodded. "But the question is, why?"
"The question is, how do we wake you up?" Jimmy elbowed him.
Thomas flicked ash from his cigarette. He seemed to be considering a great many possibilities. "I'm still not sure why I should wake up. Look at what I do all day."
Jimmy frowned. "It can't be perfect, always. What about when you're alone? Or you think of something bad, like the war?"
A shadow seemed to cover Thomas's face. "The world is far crueler than my own mind."
Jimmy felt a pain shoot through him. He imagined that his body could feel it too, sleeping on the floor. "This is my fault, then, in more ways than one." A chasm of grief seemed to split open in his chest. "Thomas-"
The other man was shaking his head vigorously. "Jimmy, you're one of the good spots."
That didn't make Jimmy feel any better, at all. "God, Thomas, I should hope I wouldn't be, I haven't treated you the way you deserve."
Thomas smiled at him, guileless. "Jimmy, I've never felt this way about anyone. No one has ever made me happy just by being alive before."
Jimmy paused. The earth finally seemed to have resumed it's orbit around the sun. "Then do it for me."
A look of confusion crossed Thomas's face. His cigarette hand was still in the air.
"I can't live like this anymore, Thomas. I can't live with you in your bloody coma. I can't work, I can't eat, I can't talk to anyone. Everyone in the house thinks I'm crazy. They abruptly stop talking when I enter a room. I can't do it anymore."
Thomas threw his cigarette into the lake. Night fell quickly. "Then let it go, Jimmy." His voice was hard. He walked off the rock and back on to the grounds of Downton. Jimmy scrambled to follow him.
"Let what go, Thomas?!" He ran after him, but Thomas's slow footsteps took him further and further away. Jimmy struggled against an invisible tide. "Thomas! Don't do this!"
He fought against it for what could have been the whole night. He lost sight of him but he pressed forward, feeling his presence ahead, feeling his presence keep him away. "Thomas, please let me talk to you!" The words sounded muffled, like he'd been dropped into the lake.
Years passed. Jimmy could feel Thomas grow tired from holding him at bay. In one instant, he regained control over gravity, and was by Thomas's side.
Thomas had knelt in the dirt at some point. Jimmy sat down in front of him.
"Jimmy," his voice was quiet and sad. "I can't do this. I can't go back. I can live a thousand lifetimes with you, here. I can have a future that I'll never have. I'll be happy."
"Is it because- do you dream about me when I'm not here?" Jimmy asked.
Thomas nodded slowly, as though ashamed to admit it. "Yes, I do."
Jimmy grabbed his shoulders. "Show me."
"Show you what?" Thomas asked. His trembling hands took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
"Everything," Thomas snorted at that, but Jimmy went on. "Show me what you dream of."
Jimmy came around slowly. He was laying in a large bed, alone in a room he didn't recognize. He forced himself to his feet, feeling them touch the plushness of an oriental carpet. He struggled to focus, but the light was glowing and golden in this room. He stumbled out the door and into a hallway.
"Thomas," he called. His voice was hoarse. "Where are you?"
"In here!" He heard the other man's voice from a room away, and followed it. He was in a sitting room now. His eyes seemed to swim around as he searched for Thomas.
"I can't-" Jimmy covered his eyes with a hand, and felt Thomas grab the free one.
"What's wrong?" Thomas's voice asked. Jimmy blinked and looked up at him. His hair was sporting the streak of gray he saw once, in a dream.
"Where are we?" He asked. His own voice sounded close up, like he'd finally woken after ages of fitful rest.
"New York." Thomas gestured around the room, like that held the answer. Jimmy looked at the high ceilings and felt dizzy.
"I feel so disoriented." He laughed. He let Thomas lead him to a sofa.
"It does that." Thomas answered seriously.
"I can't remember when we got in last night." Jimmy stretched out against the cushions. Comfort seemed to cover ever inch of this place.
"Well let's hope that doesn't become a trend." Thomas was grinning like a wolf.
Jimmy laughed. Music was playing on the radio.
Things went in flashes, out of order. Seasons changed. New York was coated in snow, then leaves fell. Thomas kissed him, and Jimmy let him. New buildings went up, fantastical things that Jimmy had never seen the likes of, changing the skyline forever. Sometimes he looked out the windows and they were gone. They woke up together, in the mornings. They walked the streets together. They saw all the movies of note. Sometimes they were in color, and then, they were always in color. Then they switched back to black and white. Sometimes they spent the whole day sitting in some park or another.
Sometimes everything slowed down.
"Jimmy," Thomas was kissing him. Jimmy tried to focus. "I love you."
Thomas was unbuttoning his shirt. His skin felt like it was on fire.
"I love you too." Jimmy said. He felt like he was being carried away on a current, and if he stepped out, everything would end. He tried not to think about it. Don't wake up. Thomas's hands distracted him.
One time, they were very old. Thomas's hair was fully gray. He wore a black suit in a strange cut. He was still handsome, like a movie star almost, wearing old like it was a fashion. He still stood straight, and though he was thin with age he looked healthy.
"Jimmy, listen to this song." He held up a record, a trail of cigarette smoke wafting from his hand. He put it on a gramophone with no horn, and music filled the room. Jimmy had never heard anything like it before. A man's low voice filled the room. It sounded like he was wailing or moaning.
Thomas sang along. "'Before you slip into unconsciousness I'd like to have another kiss, another flashing chance at bliss...'" He grinned at Jimmy. "Remind you of anything?"
Jimmy could feel himself rolling his eyes. "Who is it?"
Thomas held up a square with a color photograph on it. "The Doors." He raised his eyebrows. "Would you like me to read you the liner notes?" Thomas loved the liner notes. Electric guitar and keyboard flooded from the strange gramophone, clear as a bell.
"He's rather handsome, isn't he?" Thomas was saying.
"I don't think so." Jimmy shook his head. "You think all the men are handsome."
Thomas raised a gray eyebrow. "Only the handsome ones."
They watched a man walk on the surface of the moon on a box in their sitting room. It was the smallest movie screen Jimmy had ever seen, and with no projector. They watched the whole world in that box. Thomas shouted when a group called the Beatles broke up. A woman reported it on the 7 o'clock news. He sulked for days.
They had a maid, even. She wore jeans and tennis sneakers, and made her young son sit still in the kitchen. "Good for nothing ex-husband of mine," she was telling Thomas, who nodded understandingly. "He won't watch Brian for one afternoon, while I work."
"It's alright." Thomas said. "We don't mind if you bring him. Maybe he'd like to watch cartoons?"
"That's awful nice of you, Mr. Barrow."
Once, there was a party. They had a lot of very old friends over. Anna and Mary visited. They sat at a table by the windows, watching snow fall. Jimmy made them tea and listened to their conversation.
"I wish John could have been here to see this." Anna's voice was warbling. "Can you believe it? Nineteen-seventy-one."
Mary was wearing a feathered hat and several strings of pearls. "Matthew would never have believed it. I wish he could see the things I've seen." They were laughing. Thomas poured them champagne at midnight.
Thomas was doing a crossword puzzle in bed. Jimmy leaned against his shoulder, looking at the date on the newspaper. It read April 7th, 1930. He blinked, trying to slow down. "Wait." He said. Thomas turned his head to look at him.
"Is that wrong? King Tut's final resting place. Pyramid doesn't fit, I tried tomb and mausoleum-"
"Museum. No, stop. Thomas, we need to go back." Jimmy didn't feel like moving, though.
"Go back where?" Thomas looked around the room.
Jimmy put his arm across Thomas's waist. "I don't know, I'm so comfortable."
Thomas's brow furrowed in concern. "Are you regretting the move? Because we can go back to London. Lady Mary's got Anna and Bates here, we're just moral support."
"No," He sighed. "I'm happy here." Jimmy's mind cleared for a moment. "Thomas! We need to wake up! This isn't real!"
Thomas frowned, folding up his newspaper. He rested it on a nightstand. "I know."
Jimmy forced himself to sit up. His heart hurt. "Why is it so hard to leave?"
Thomas was quiet, looking at his hands. "I told you." He said after a moment.
Jimmy took his hands in his own. "There are things we aren't meant to know yet." It wasn't wisdom, it was only fact.
"It's only our imaginings, anyway." Thomas looked bleak. "But they were made so much better by you. There are things I could never have thought up."
"No." Jimmy said firmly. The lights went out.
He looked up, the stars dancing merrily over Downton. He was standing opposite Thomas, their hands still clasped. "You MUST wake up. You can't waste your life like this. Wouldn't you rather see everything happen, the way it's meant to?" The air was bitterly cold, creeping into his jacket through his sleeves.
Thomas had his head bowed and Jimmy couldn't see his face clearly in the dark. "Things will never happen like that."
"Thomas-" Jimmy grabbed his shoulders, forcing the other man to look him in the eyes. "You don't know that. I was there with you, Thomas. I don't regret it. I was happier than I've ever been." His throat felt tight. "But it doesn't change things. This is just one night. And in the morning, I will wake up, and be alone. Because you don't want to face the hard parts."
Thomas turned his face away. "And- what if this is all just my dream?" The words sounded like they were hard to get out. "Suppose I wake up, and things are the same? I haven't got anything to live for. I've got a job." He let out a short, mirthless laugh. "It's a good job, but having you is better, even if it isn't real."
Jimmy stepped back from him. There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to. "Maybe... maybe things will work out."
Thomas went very still. His face bore an expression of pain. "Jimmy, please don't say that."
"I'll say it... if I feel it." Jimmy spoke very cautiously. "And I do feel something."
Thomas's jaw was working as though he were trying to say something. Over his shoulder, Jimmy spied a bit of light on the horizon. "I'm waking up." He said, somber. "Listen to me." He held the sides of Thomas's face. "I need you with me. There's no going back. We've obviously got something going on that neither of us are in control of."
Thomas looked almost afraid. Jimmy felt himself pulling away from the dream. "Promise me you'll consider it."
Thomas grabbed one of Jimmy's wrists. He looked stricken, but answered all the same. "Alright."
Jimmy's eyes were open. He woke just like that, not noticing the transition between sleep and wakefulness. His mind was filled with a thousand images- the things he'd seen in his dreams. He jumped off his mattress, sitting down hard on Thomas's.
"Wake up." He said to Thomas. "Wake up, you can do this." He was very serious. He made himself believe that it would work. "Thomas, wake up. Please wake up."
Thomas was as still as ever. Jimmy flung off his blankets, grabbing the other man's injured hand. His arm was heavy, but his palm was warm. "Please, Thomas. I need you to wake up. Don't leave me alone." He brought the hand to his face, rubbing the back of it against his cheek. He didn't know what he was doing. Anything to wake him up.
"Wake up, Thomas, please!" His voice went frantic. He brushed Thomas's knuckles across his lips. Then he kissed them, forcing himself not to think. "I'll do anything I have to do-" He said. He mulled the words over in his mind.
Jimmy looked at his face. Thomas seemed very young at rest, almost like how he looked in their dreams sometimes. He rested Thomas's hand in his lap and leaned over him. He wasn't sure what compelled him- maybe it was the memory of so many intimacies from his dream. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe he had read too many tales as a child.
He pressed his lips to Thomas's. He thought of an unfortunate night in the past. Then he thought of waking in the morning, soft light streaming in the windows. Thomas kissing him as the autumn leaves fell outside. His world was backwards- nostalgia for a future that hadn't happened.
Thomas did not wake. Reality washed over Jimmy like a bucket of ice water.
Jimmy glowered in the kitchen. He ignored the looks of concern from Daisy and Ivy. He had vowed that he would work extra hard to tire himself out today. His mind spun with thoughts. Thoughts of men walking over the face of the moon, of color photographs and nightclubs, strange music and Thomas. Movies they'd watched. Christmas specials on the television. Games of monopoly. Thomas was good at that one. Thomas smoking and cooking dinner. Jimmy thought he might black out.
Jimmy faltered carrying a tray up to dinner. He fell against the wall, barely recovering. He had a sobering thought: You're losing your mind.
He'd been up to check on Thomas more times than he could count. He skipped lunch, and barged in on the nurse. Twice more in the hours before dinner, reading first the newspaper, then the Sherlock Holmes. Once again right before he went to serve.
He picked at his own dinner hours later, pretending to eat. He didn't need to arouse any more concern for his well being than there already was. He was aware of Mrs. Hughes's worried looks directed at him over the table. He couldn't think of anything but Thomas.
But what can I do? He asked himself. Thomas seemed completely unwilling to cooperate. He had held up his end of the bargain, as best as he could fathom. He remembered their dreams, he knew they were dreaming together- and even though Thomas had told him that he would wake after that, he didn't. Jimmy wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't- perhaps he had been too gravely injured- or he just wouldn't.
He excused himself quickly after dinner, heading to Thomas's room directly. He knew that Mrs. Hughes would be in later, so he left the door open and sat in the chair.
He watched Thomas's face. He didn't know what to say, after begging. Jimmy recalled the feeling of his unresponsive lips against his own. If that couldn't wake him, he wasn't sure what could. He felt everything closing in around him, blotting out the hope he had so firmly clung to. He thought of a life watching after Thomas, spending eons together in dreams, Jimmy toiling away in service. They should have been sneaking out to clubs in London, taking a boat to some remote island vacation, living on their own.
Jimmy tried to get a grip on his thoughts. So much time had gone by between two days- so much time, that everything he thought before had been turned upside-down. He needed to talk to Thomas about it. Maybe that would help. Maybe if he knew things could be the way he dreamed, or better, maybe then he could find the strength to wake up. Jimmy would have to be his guide back to the real world.
Jimmy found Thomas standing in the doorway of the house he had grown up in. The trees were blossoming riotously, petals blanketing the roof. The sun was so bright that Jimmy had to squint until he was in the shade.
Thomas was leaning in the doorway, teacup in one hand, cigarette at his mouth in the other. They studied each other for a while. Jimmy shaded his eyes with a hand.
"I see you went in." Jimmy said, pointing to the house. Thomas looked over his shoulder into the doorway, then turned back to Jimmy.
"Yes."
"And?" Jimmy asked, taking a step closer.
"And what?" Thomas said, exhaling smoke.
"What's inside?" He stood on his toes to look over Thomas's shoulder.
"Nothing. S'empty." Thomas answered, and stepped out into the sunlight.
"Is this what you've been doing? You're not running off into the future?" Jimmy asked him. Nothing was moving or changing, except for the soft breeze that loosed petals into the yard.
Thomas regarded him with a curious look. "No, I suppose I haven't. Doesn't seem the same anymore."
Jimmy nodded. He had no trouble hanging on to his thoughts here, without Thomas dragging him around from place to place. "Don't go anywhere. I want to talk to you."
Thomas put his teacup down on a rock. "Alright."
Jimmy didn't know where to start. So much had happened already. He closed the distance between them, resting his hands over Thomas's. "I was so upset, this morning. I hoped that I could wake you."
Thomas wouldn't look him in the eyes, instead, he watched their clasped hands. "I said I'd consider it." His tone held no bite.
"I want you to consider it faster." Jimmy said. He brought his hands up to Thomas's shoulders. "I kissed you, while you were asleep. So we're even."
Thomas's eyes went wide. "What?"
"Just like I said." Jimmy went on. "I kissed you, I thought it would wake you up."
"Ah." Thomas looked defeated.
"I wanted to. And if you had woken, I would have kissed you again, you'd've made me so happy." Jimmy squeezed Thomas's shoulders, prompting him to look him in the eyes.
"I know you feel a lot of guilt, and I told you that you shouldn't-"
Jimmy cut him off. "I've never kissed anyone out of guilt before. And certainly no man." He rested one of his palms against Thomas's cheek. "But I have to be honest, I think it would have been better if you'd been awake." He couldn't decide if Thomas looked like he wanted to bolt or not.
"Jimmy," Thomas's voice was very quiet.
"That's your invitation." Jimmy informed him, tilting his chin up a bit.
Thomas let out a shaky breath and turned his head to the side to take a drag of his cigarette. He threw it into the grass, exhaling a lungful of smoke. Jimmy finally tugged at the collar of Thomas's shirt, bringing his head down, and pressed their mouths together. Thomas was a still as stone for a moment. Then, his shaking hands reached around Jimmy's back.
It was strange to Jimmy, how many memories he had of them kissing- but nothing in their dreams compared to this moment. He kept them rooted firmly to the ground, no swirling current to pull them away, no shifting, no abrupt changes in scenery. He fit himself against Thomas, threading his arms behind his neck.
After a few moments, Thomas took a step back from him, holding Jimmy back at arms length. "So..." He took a deep breath. "What are you trying to say?"
Jimmy laughed at him. "Are you serious, Thomas? I'm trying to tell you- I'm trying to tell you that I want-" He was suddenly at a loss for words. "I want to try it, us being together. All those things you want in life, I want them too- but I need to do them... I need to do them the right way. In order. And, without waking up every day in between."
Thomas nodded once, slowly. He looked like he was in shock.
"The truth is, I think," Jimmy wasn't sure where the words that threatened to tumble out of his mouth came from. "I love you. I think I've- I think that I'm in love with you. I hope you still feel the same?" He asked, knowing the answer already.
Thomas opened his mouth as though he meant to speak. "-Y-yes." He forced out finally. "I have, this whole time."
Jimmy held on to Thomas's hand. "Then you'll wake up?"
Thomas shook his head, then spoke hurriedly at the look on Jimmy's face. "I'm not saying no- I'm saying, what if I can't?"
"You can." Jimmy started leading him by the hand away from the house, down the tree lined path. "I know you can."
"Where are we going?" Thomas asked, as the woods around them changed.
"Home." Jimmy answered.
Downton was cloaked in a gray fog when they arrived. Thomas looked up at the windows dubiously.
"Have you gone inside?" Jimmy asked, tugging on Thomas's sleeve.
Thomas's feet must have been made of lead. "No."
Jimmy tugged on his sleeve again, a bit more insistent. "Come on, then." They walked in through the front, the wide double doors thrown open. Thomas was inspecting every surface with his eyes, as though he'd never seen any of it before.
"We shouldn't be walking right in like this." He said.
"You're making excuses. We can walk where we like, it's not real." Jimmy reminded him.
Thomas followed him through the dining room, to the kitchen, up the stairs. "Wait." He said finally, when they stood outside the door to his own bedroom. "Jimmy, I don't know if I-"
Jimmy leveled him with a very serious stare. "You aren't backing out on me now, are you? I've gotten you this far, you are coming back."
Thomas dropped his head. His shoulders slumped. "Alright." He raised his eyes to Jimmy's, touching his cheek with his knuckles. "You promise that you'll be there?"
Jimmy nodded. "Yes. I will be right there, just as soon as you wake up." He opened the door.
Jimmy had the very strange experience of watching himself sleep. At his side, Thomas seemed equally as stricken by it. Jimmy squeezed his hand. "You see? There you are. You've spent all this time running away."
Thomas scanned the room with his eyes, the same slow way he had with the rest of the house. "You are here with me." He nodded at Jimmy's sleeping form.
"I told you." Jimmy nudged him with his arm. "Go on then."
Thomas took a step towards the bed. He paused, looking over his shoulder at Jimmy. Jimmy waved at him encouragingly. In a moment, faster than Jimmy's eyes could tell, Thomas was standing before him, and then, he was gone. He blinked, shaking his head. It was like he'd never been standing there at all.
Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up- he told himself, holding his hands over his eyes.
The cool night air washed over him. He took a breath. It felt like the first in a long while. He realized then that he was awake, and in his sleep, he'd kicked all the covers off of himself. He sat up quickly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Thomas. He thought. He threw himself at the bed.
"Thomas!" He whispered, voice rough with sleep and worry.
Thomas was stirring, his eyes half-open. Jimmy felt his heart beating a frantic pace against his ribs.
"Thomas, Thomas, oh god, you're awake, you're awake, aren't you?" Jimmy felt all sorts of words pass through his lips. His hands were trembling as he smoothed Thomas's hair away from his face.
Thomas's only movement was to blink a few times, at first. Jimmy kept a hand at his shoulder, watching him intently. His brow furrowed and he took a shaking breath. Jimmy squeezed his shoulder.
"Thomas." He whispered hoarsely. Thomas winced, and slowly, as if through water, he pulled his arm out from under the sheets and pressed his fingertips to his own forehead. Jimmy's heart continued to flutter almost painfully. "Are you alright?" He went on, "Your head hurts?"
His eyes focused on Jimmy's face, tracking him slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but made only a few weak sounds. Jimmy grabbed his water from the nightstand and looped an arm around his Thomas's neck, angling his head up a bit. Thomas weakly pushed the glass away from his face after a moment, coughing.
His voice was small and cracked with disuse when he finally spoke, his head rolling on Jimmy's arm to look up at him. "What're you doing here?" He asked, a touch of reverence in his voice.
Jimmy replaced the glass on the nightstand, shaking his head. "What do you mean-", he began, before realizing what the other man had meant. "Oh... you don't remember anything, then?"
"Remember... how long have I been-" Thomas looked down at his prone body, blinking slowly. "Out of it?"
Jimmy slid down on the bed, looping his arms around Thomas's shoulders. Thomas stilled, his free hand coming to rest on Jimmy's arm. "Too long, far too long." Jimmy answered, pressing his face against Thomas's shoulder, as though the pressure would stop tears from falling.
"Jimmy," Thomas's broken voice drifted over him. Jimmy sniffed, lifting his head up. Thomas's face was the picture of befuddlement. Jimmy laughed lightly.
"It's alright, Thomas. We-" Jimmy stopped, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories of their dreams. So many years, crammed into so small a time. He didn't know where to start. "I'll tell you all about it. But not yet. When you're feeling better."
Thomas tried to sit up. He gave up halfway, slumping back against the headboard, winded. Jimmy tucked himself against Thomas's side, reveling at the physical feeling, so familiar yet so different from his memories. Thomas looked at him, eyes wide.
Jimmy smiled back. "It's a long story. You were there, but I think you've forgotten it."
"Amnesia?" Thomas asked. Thomas looked between them, as though trying to discern a very crucial piece of information.
"Sort of." Jimmy smiled at him. "I love you, Thomas. We're quite attached to each other, you and I." He laughed at the shock on Thomas's face.
"Now I know it must be amnesia, because I would remember..." The words died on Thomas's lips, his eyes studying Jimmy very intently. "Because last I knew, it was- Jimmy, are you saying-" He paused, swallowing a few times. "You're saying that you-"
Jimmy kissed Thomas's face. Pinpricks of tears were pressing into the corners of his eyes. "I'm saying that I love you and that I am so, so very glad that you've finally woken up." He kissed the side of his head, his cheek again, the corner of his mouth, until it seemed that Thomas's eyes were filled with tears as well.
"I think I must be rather lucky, then, wouldn't you say?" Thomas said cautiously, like it was a fragile reality that would break under questioning.
Jimmy laughed again. "If by that you mean bad luck, than yes. You've been in a coma for four weeks, after that fight you saved me from."
"I've been asleep for a month?" He asked first, disbelief in his voice, and then, "Feels like it, too." He looked over at Jimmy, his eyes going wide again. "Must've done something to my memory, too, because I can't recall, for the life of me, when we-" He gestured between them.
"That's because we didn't, it's just me who's come around." Jimmy answered.
Thomas broke into a tentative smile. "And you say I'm not lucky. If I'm asleep, I hope I don't wake up."
"Please don't say that." Jimmy asked. Thomas laughed.
"I'm sorry- I just don't- you have to tell me what's happened." He said, shaking his head. "Because last I remember, you and I were barely on speaking terms."
In the morning, Jimmy would wake everyone up, racing all over the house to spread the good news. There would be visitors and medical check ups and all sorts of congratulations, and Jimmy would have to step back, unable to stay rooted to Thomas's side. And then, things would be much more complicated, but much easier, as well. And then finally, when everything died down, Jimmy would sit down and start trying to unravel the thread of their dreams. For now, the best he could do was try to explain.
Jimmy took Thomas's hand in his own, nodding. "Alright. But you aren't going to believe it, at first." He said.
Working diligently on a part two. Thanks for reading!