"I need to know if you see us. I mean really see us." Alex says. "Take my hand if you do."
His brother reaches out a hand— His brother? Morgan's brother. Their brother.
They have a brother? (what is a—)
The hand is still there. It quivers once.
"Alex," Danielle whispers, but the hand stays. (no, not Danielle, Danielle is—/machine, machine, take it, make it ours/no, we can't, we—)
(Alex is waiting)Morgan knows. Of course he knows. So they know.
(they are not Morgan/are they?/no yes maybe/all of them? No.)
(but enough of them?)
Their restraints are gone. They reach out.
Alex's hand is human beneath his gloves. Bone, blood, nerve and synapse. Vulnerable. Soft under their touch. His heartbeat thrums in his wrist as they twist themselves around it and they pulse along with it, a shiver of their whole being.
(could break it, break it, make it of us—)
(No.)
They can sense every spot of weakness. But that is not why humans hold hands.
They are not human. (Not Morgan)
But human enough?
(…Yes.)
They copy instead of breaking—mimic, reform. They remember being-not being Morgan and they can just as easily be again. They are, again, and form fingers, a wrist, a pulse of their own, and they curl their hand around Alex's and hold on tight.
(what are—/you? no/what are we—?)
They feel the hand under theirs now, the flesh and the form instead of the inner substance. They feel the heat in their palm, curling over their fingers as Alex brings his other hand down over theirs. There is a comfort in this; in the closeness, the warmth that starts in their hand and seeps in all the way through.
(Family) Morgan remembers. Remembers playgrounds and walks home, holding his brother's hand. So they remember.
They are not Morgan. But they have what Morgan had, see what Morgan saw. Not just Morgan, then. Some. Enough.
(are we—?)
Alex is almost smiling at them now, eyes creasing. Relief, triumph, hope. Fondness? Love? Maybe. Alex knows they are not Morgan, not his brother, but he must also know that they were, once.
So perhaps they will have to figure out what they will be, together.
"We're going to shake things up." Alex says, voice rough, their hands pressed together. "Like old times."
Like old times? No. But they can make new times, new memories, and they will. Because he is-was-is their brother and they—
(—love?)
(Love.)
—love him.
(we are/we are/we are—)
"Alex!" Someone is speaking outside the room, someone they don't know. A human. A person. Perhaps someone they will know. "Alex, something's— Jesus, you need to see this, look at the Coral—!"
Their brother doesn't move—stays with them, stays by them, and they reach up their other hand to meet him there. The hand that is still light-claws-darkness, but this is them too and Alex does not shy away. He stands there and holds them and lets them hold him in return with every part of their being.
(we see you)