Author's Notes: Beta-read by Moofy-Fan. Hope you enjoy, and please review!

Best friends. Black wings. Silver scales. A high-pitched, vibrating scream. A book filled with pressed flowers.

Harley groaned, tossing on the cot in the nurse's office and grabbing his head.

An endless desert of rolling sand dunes. A deep blue ocean, filled with hidden dangers and secret treasures. Dozens of queens and royal children, filling a lush garden connected to a huge castle. A clear pond in the center, too perfect to be anything natural.

Drowning. Sinking into an endless pit, being dragged down, too heavy to move more than a single arm, reaching desperately for the blue sky so far away... A foggy blackness, a screaming pain, threat and intrigue and danger and panic…

While the medication helped with the pain and helped to clear his mind in the long run, it sometimes gave him the craziest daydreams. Enough to make him think he was probably crazy, but at least sane enough to keep that a secret from his classmates.

It was nothing new. In his psychiatric sessions with his uncle, they'd often discuss these subconscious visions and if they meant anything. It was incredibly embarrassing at first, but Harley had gotten used to it over the years.

Fur. Claws. Apples. Fish. Forests. Mountains. Adventure.

Running away.

Drowning.

All alone.

Harley felt the familiar panic coming over him. Not now, he ordered himself, as he felt his heart begin racing.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

His breathing was getting ragged and he curled up tight in on himself. Trying to force himself to calm down and failing miserably.

Can't face it. Shouldn't happen. Leave me alone! No, stop! Not happening! It… I…

Can't breathe!

No! Stop!

Harley curled up even tighter, trying to shield his throat from the enemy he knew was only in his mind.

He never understood why, in his darkest panic attacks, it was always the same. Not a car crash killing his family, as he thought made more sense – as that's what had actually happened. But a woman. A tall, beautiful red-haired woman dressed like a queen… strangling him.

It didn't make sense, but he could swear he felt those long, elegant hands wrapping around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Could feel his feet lifting off the ground as she easily raised him up. He could even see those piercing eyes glaring at him, full of hatred and disgust.

Then crashing into water… pain as his already air deprivedlungs filled with the liquid… then…

Then he was free. Or rather, he knew how to be free. Free of the darkness, the pain, the terrifying woman who tried to kill him.

Water! An escape! Swim! Live!

He knew it was an obsession. Borderline maniacal. Especially with his strange dreams about drowning. Why?

Why, when he was in his deepest nonsensical frights, did he instinctively, and completely senselessly, want to run to water?

It terrified his uncle, to the point Harley wasn't allowed anywhere near pools or lakes, let alone the sea. Harley didn't know how many times his uncle had hugged him tight, begging him not to go near water, for fear he really would drown himself without thinking. He didn't even know how to swim. He'd never been taught before the accident , and between the state he was in afterwards and his new obsession, it was out of the question now.

But still, water represented safety in some deep part of Harley's psyche. He wanted to dive underwater and hide there until the danger was gone, or jump in and swim and swim and swim. The same part of his subconscious that didn't worry about not being able to breathe underwater seemed to think that in the water he was stronger and faster than anyone. That no one would be able to find him. No one could catch him.

It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical. It was psychotic. Insane. Delusional.

To be perfectly blunt, it was just plain stupid. What kind of idiot has nightmares of drowning but yearns to immerse himself in water?

Still, as he lay there, heart racing, soaked in sweat, panting for breath but only getting a fraction of the air he needed, all he wanted to do was climb out of this bed and run to the school pool.

He could picture the whole path in his head with crystal clarity. Climb off the cot, turn to the right, through the door of the nurse's office, another right, down the corridor, straight past two turns, left, down the hall, through the giant double doors to the huge indoor pool that was the pride and joy of Gotham Academy's elite swim team. An Olympic size pool, with a deep end for diving and a shallow end for laps and sports like water polo and synchronized swimming. Of course, it was divided with buoys according to whichever sport was next on the schedule, and the water always sparkled blue between the chlorine and the weekly cleanings.

He knew all of this, despite having never taken a swim class. His uncle had made sure to excuse him, a combination of his condition from the incident and fear of him doing something foolish and never coming back up again. It wasn't that he'd intentionally set out to memorize a path to the pool, but some part of his mind just needed to know the way. So, so stupid.

Harley hated the smell of chlorine that constantly filled the area, but the pull of the expanse of water, the thousands and thousands of gallons of water, was near irresistible. And the more the thought lingered in the boy's mind, the more desirable it became.

His mouth grew dry and he fumbled, half sitting up, for the glass of water on the small bedside table. He chugged the whole glass, but it wasn't nearly enough. There was a pitcher, full to the top, and without thinking too much about it, he grabbed the whole thing and drank and drank. Within minutes, the whole pitcher was gone, but he still felt too dry and it made him edgy.

Pool. Water.

No. No, his uncle had forbidden it. His uncle would be here soon and would take him home, and he could get into his shower and just stand in there until he felt better.

Ocean. Sea. Lake. River. Pool. School pool. Water. Water. Water.

Safety. Freedom.

All he had to do…

"Harley!" barked a deep, strict voice, with a trace of a harsh accent. Russian or something similar.

The beautiful teenager jerked in surprise, eyes jumping into focus and landing on his uncle's concerned face.

When did he…? How long had his uncle been standing there?

Harley realized he was hugging the pitcher to his chest. Probably looked weird, so he frowned and clumsily set it back on the table. Tried to pretend he wasn't still trembling, that the pitcher hadn't rattled at all from his shaking hands.

At least his breathing had eased, though his heart still raced.

Okay, now that the pitcher was gone he shouldn't look as weird… but his hands were still shaking and he didn't know what to do with them. After a couple awkward moments, he fisted them and set them in his lap.

"Water?" asked Uncle Yuri knowingly.

Harley felt himself twitch just at hearing the word. His hands squeezed tighter and he glared at them.

His uncle frowned and, to Harley's surprise and embarrassment, the large man scooped him up like a child and set off.

"Thank you, Ms. Larns. I'll be taking him home for the day. If you could…?"

"Of course, sir."

And by then he was at the door, holding it open, stepping through it.

Thank goodness it was still during class time. The hallways were empty, saving the blond boy the humiliation of anyone possibly seeing him in such a state. His uncle was a fast walker, so in no time at all they were in the parking lot and his uncle was lowering him onto the back seat in a black Mercedes.

Harley's shaking hands fumbled with the seat belt, but his uncle impatiently took the buckle from him and clicked it in. Then he firmly shut the door, walked around the car, and climbed into the driver's seat.

He was mad.

Harley stared at his hands, messing with the part of the belt around his lap.

The slam of the driver's door. The click of his uncle putting on his own seatbelt. The purr of the engine starting, and the slight sound of his uncle putting the car in gear.

They left the academy's parking lot and turned towards home.

Only when they hopped on the freeway did his uncle finally sigh.

"What triggered it?" he asked, almost gently.

"Nothing," grumbled the boy, folding his arms over his chest and staring out the window.

"Did the medication work? Migraine went down?"

"… yeah."

"I don't like that it might have triggered a panic attack. I'll talk to my psychiatrist friend about any alternatives. Any strange images?"

No answer. He just waited.

Harley groaned and glared at hands. "The usual."

"The trigger? It seemed a bit extreme for just a normal episode. You were completely out of it."

"…"

"I'll just find out from your teacher."

"New kid. Weirdo. Said he knew me… Um, knocked me down and I hit my head," he finally gave in and mumbled, not looking up from glaring out the window at the passing scenery.

Harley, from the back seat, didn't notice his uncle's hands tighten on the steering wheel, almost white-knuckled from the pressure.

"I'll take a look at your head when we get home. Could be a concussion." The man's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, glancing at the boy in the backseat. A fond smile came over his face. "I'll take care of this. Don't worry, Harley. You'll be just fine."

Harley's stiff frame relaxed just a bit. "Thank you, Uncle Yuri."

Something was wrong with Cooro.

He had been a sulking thing this morning before he left for Gotham Academy, true, but this was different. He looked blank, rejected… confused. He was silent, his face flickering between excitement and joy, to depression and injury.

For the first hour or so, Nana and Senri gave him his space. He'd changed somewhat in the past couple years. The most noticeable being how he now often requested 'alone time to think'. Nana was quite sure he'd stolen the phrase from Husky.

But this time, his 'time alone' didn't seem to be helping. He hadn't gone up to his room, instead opting to sit on a big couch staring at an empty fireplace. It was easy to sense his problem was something he actually did want to talk about… so why didn't he?

And so, after exactly one hour (Nana had been watching the clock), she set down her knitting, grabbed Senri's hand, and marched over to Cooro. She and Senri plopped down on either side of him on the couch.

"What happened?" demanded Nana. Contrary to her strict tone, she took his hand in her own and squeezed comfortingly. Senri did the same on Cooro's other side.

Cooro's still confused eyes turned to Nana, then to Senri, then to their hands in his lap.

"It was… but it wasn't. But it should've been! But if it was, then he…"

And he suddenly started crying.

The hands holding his squeezed tighter, and Senri and Nana scooted closer to comfort him. They waited for him to get a bit of a grip on himself, then he continued on his own.

"I met someone today," he said, half a whisper. "A boy… his name's Harley."

They waited patiently. Willing to accept pretty much anything and help him through it.

"He looks like Husky."

Cooro felt them tense up on either side of him. He took a deep breath, and squeezed their hands back, knowing with this information, they'd be needing as much comfort as him.

"Not the hair," he continued. "But those eyes. And his voice…. But he didn't know me." Cooro voice was shaking now, struggling not to dissolve into tears again.

"There was no anima, and he didn't know me," he whispered, and despite his attempts to keep them at bay,the tears broke through again.

"So… it wasn't him?" wondered Nana, her voice trembling. Trying not to give into hope for fear of being hurt again. Of running into another dead end.

"I couldn't sense him… but it was Husky!" insisted Cooro, emphatically, sitting straight up… only to slouch again seconds later in a sort of defeat. "So why didn't he know me? And his anima…"

"Forgot us?" asked Senri softly, gently.

"Tell us about him. The whole story. As much as you can," insisted Nana. Though it sounded more like begging.

"I didn't notice him at first. Not until I sat down. Nothing in my senses at all. He told me to pay attention and offered to share his book. I looked up, thinking the voice was just like Husky's, and saw those eyes! The hair was wrong – but it was Husky! It had to be!"

"You jumped him?" asked Nana, a small knowing tone in her voice as a slight smile twitching at her lips.

"Yeah, but… he got so angry. Not embarrassed angry, like Husky always was when we hugged him. Angry angry. Started shouting that he had no idea what I was talking about or who I was. And everyone was calling him Harley! And I looked, and there was no marking... and I realized I couldn't sense anything."

Nana looked as confused as Cooro felt. "But Husky would never give up his anima. And surely he wouldn't lose it, right…?"

"Taken?" asked Senri.

"Maybe," thought Nana aloud, shivering at the thought. "He was kidnapped after all. Who knows what happened to him these last two years?" She leaned over, resting against Cooro's shoulder.

They were quiet for several minutes.

"Does it matter?" she murmured. "If it's him… does it matter?"

"No," answered Senri, a smile in his face and his eyes glowing happily.

"If it's really Husky… and it just has to be…" began Cooro. "I think… I think I can live with him not remembering me. Us. Everything we've been through. Because… it means…" he trailed off, but his eyes were shining.

Nana smiled brightly, finally letting the hope win. Even if it meant a crushing blow later.

"He's alive!" she cried out, jumping to her feet and dragging Cooro up with her. "He's alive!"

Letting loose the one fear that'd been plaguing them all, they all started laughing and jumping around. Suddenly exchanging "Do you remember" stories about Husky and making plans on everything they'd have to tell him that he'd missed.

Just outside the door, a surprised, and almost as excited, Tim Drake met the eyes of Wayne's butler, Alfred Pennyworth.

"You tell Bruce!" he said. "I'll let Dick know!" And the old butler and the freshman in high school ran off.

Author's Notes: Wow, I was expecting it to take longer before the +anima gang accepted Harley as Husky, but I guess they really do trust that much in Cooro's impressions! Next time, we have Bruce Wayne pull a damper on things (otherwise the gang would rush off to kidnap Husky right now), find a bit more about Husky's 'home life', and maybe things might start heading in a rather dangerous direction…? Hope you enjoyed, even if not much has happened yet, and please review!