I'm actually surprised with how few people guessed what was going on. Either most of you didn't want to possibly spoil, or you underestimated my love for cliches.
This is the point where the language gets a little cruder.


"Well, dammit."

Sinbad's legs crumpled beneath him when he tried to stand up from the chair, but he couldn't really be bothered. He took a moment to admire Yamraiha's messy laboratory from the new angle before flopping over and crawling to the small child that had collapsed in a puddle of robes behind his chair. With a bit of trouble from his tight clothes he crossed his legs to sit comfortably, pulling the little bundle into his arms.

"S-Sin...?"

He shook his head, not ready for Yamraiha's voice. This was really confusing. He had been a child just now, hadn't he? But now... now he seemed as old as he always was. The crick in his back was a good indication.

But now here, Ja'far was a little child? How did that happen?

He tried to remember what happened, but it was all a little glazed over. Like trying to remember a dream you just had. He was reverted to... fifteen? Yeah. And Ja'far had given him his days off because he couldn't do his work like that. Ja'far... had been overworking himself? Of course he did, he always did. What else had happened?

"Sin, are you alright?"

Ah yes, Yamraiha.

He turned to look over his shoulder, pulling the sleeping child closer against his chest. "I'm okay, I think. Not sure yet. How long until I will be sure?"

"I-I don't know," she stuttered, approaching the two where they were on the floor.

"Little fireball is back," he noted, lifting the child just enough for the white hair to peek out over his shoulder so the magician could see it. "Did something go wrong?"

"I don't understand this... I didn't expect this at all! It's like he wanted to forget the things I was going to make you remember!"

"Don't be upset, it's not your fault." He wouldn't tell her he didn't want her upset mainly because her raised voice was hurting his head. "I don't blame you. Just... uhm.. Start working on a solution, alright?"

"But I don't know anything else than what I've tried." She sank down to the floor, looking completely beat. "This was my best guess at fixing things. But if I'd use this again I'd just be switching the two of you between young and old all the time."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll figure out another way to do it." He gave her an encouraging smile. "Don't let this bring you down, you're stronger than being defeated by a small error like this. Ah- he's really small now, isn't he?"

"Sin," she complained, "please don't make a joke out of this! Ja'far will kill me when I turn him back to normal!"

"He's more likely to kill you the way he is now, I promise. ...and that was supposed to be a reassurance." He frowned, looking down at the kid. He looked deceptively peaceful while asleep. He should probably bring Ja'far to bed.

Ah, a bed sounded so nice right now. If he could just lay down, calm this raging headache - perhaps he'd even get his memories and thoughts back into chronological order that way.

Then again, Ja'far was going to be a menace, right? He couldn't leave the child alone now.

Simple solution; he'd take the child to his own bed. Surely Ja'far would still recognise him even if he was fifteen years older. He was a smart kid. He wouldn't try to kill him straight away.

Would he?

Did Ja'far go back the same amount of years he did? He had remembered Ja'far the past few days, right? He remembered it had been strange... awkward... ah yes, he had kissed Ja'far. That meant he must have remembered him.

Or not.

This was too confusing.

"Do you know how long I have until Ja'far wakes up?"

Yamraiha frowned. "Not sure... You took about an hour when you were rejuvinated. But Ja'far is now younger, and he has a different lifestyle."

"An hour." He groaned. That wasn't much. His head was killing him.

"Do you have something for a headache?"

"Oh! Of course!" Yamraiha scrambled to her feet, scurrying off to a large cupboard that looked so overstuffed it was about to come off the wall.

Sinbad looked down at the child he was holding, brushing a hand over the soft skin of the boy's face. He could see the small irritations on the boy's skin where he used to wrap his face in bandages. No matter what he tried, the skin didn't seem to want to recover from it.

He frowned, lightly trailing a finger over the myriad of freckles. Maybe... was it puberty, that Ja'far's skin refused to heal up properly back then? Skin problems weren't all that uncommon for teenagers, but Ja'far was awfully young for that.

He could look at these freckles all day.

"Here, if you drink this the headache should pass." He blinked up at the woman in surprise, taking a moment to refocus.

"T-thank you, Yamraiha." He said her name carefully. He had known her for years. But it was a little wobbly in his head. Just now, he almost hadn't recognised her. But at the same time, he knew of everything they did together, of how she grew up by his side, and how she would always fight with Sharrkan.

He chuckled when he suddenly remembered how he had decided to bring the two together the past few days. That had been a nice plan. He should get on with it soon.

It might cause some damage to the palace though.

Only when Yamraiha tentatively nudged him with the cup he finally took it from her, quickly drinking the contents. He was eternally grateful for her tendency to put enough sugar in her potions to make the original contents no longer identifiable - he really didn't want to know what he just drank.

"What should I do now?" He muttered it mainly to himself, but Yamraiha crouched next to him, gingerly touching Ja'far's face.

"You should probably take him to a quiet place so he can sleep in peace. And perhaps sleep a little yourself. Do you want me to send for someone to take care of Ja'far while you sleep?"

"No." His arms instinctively tightened around the boy. "Ja'far is too dangerous like this. I'll take care of him."

"You aren't at your best yourself right now, your majesty," Yamraiha pouted at him. "I'm sure someone else can handle him-"

"You never met him when he was little," he interrupted her - realising a little belatedly how rude that was, "I was the only one who could handle him. So nobody else takes him."

Yamraiha slowly stood, frowning down at him where he clutched Ja'far close. "I'll tell Hinahoho to stand guard at your door then. In case something goes wrong."

"Well... That sounds like a good plan." The kid was dangerous, after all. Would he be all amazed at seeing Sinbad this old? Would he look up to him and be impressed he managed to reach his goals? Would he be proud to hear about the person he had become himself over the years? He knew Ja'far wanted to let go of that life of before... This situation might give him the courage to admit that.

"I... I'm just going to get started on developing a new method to return Ja'far's age," Yamraiha said slowly, "if you need my help, just call, okay?"

"Yes yes, thank you."

His legs weren't as wobbly as before anymore. It was time to get up and bring Ja'far to bed. He was going to blame him if he would wake up stiff from sleeping half sprawled over a stone floor, wouldn't he?

Or no... Ja'far was used to that kind of thing at this age.

He gently eased the child down on the soft pile of his robes, and stood up a little shakily. He stayed still for a moment to even out his breathing before bending over to pick up the whole bundle. He shifted Ja'far until he rested on one arm, snoring ever so softly into his ear. He couldn't help a wide smile spreading on his face.

Ja'far only made noises when he was completely broken down and exhausted. He was always alert even while asleep. But now he was sleeping as soundly as he possibly could. He was finally resting somewhat properly.

Which meant he was going to have the advantage of grogginess when Ja'far woke up. He had studied the man's sleeping habits since they first travelled together, and he knew exactly when he was given a present. This was a present. This was a genuinely sleeping Ja'far, and when he would wake up he'd look as cute as a ruffled little kitten.

He'd probably get angry right away too, but it was always worth it.

"I'm leaving, Yamraiha!"

"I already sent for Hinahoho, so you don't have to worry about anything. Have a good rest, your majesty."

"Thanks," he bumped into the door to open it, wondering when Yamraiha had called for a servant. Hoisting Ja'far up against his shoulder, he made sure to keep his pace slow as he walked to his chambers.

His feet seemed steady again. He didn't have trouble lifting the child's small body, but his head was still running all over the place. Even with his headache lessening, the memories popping up at everything he saw were already driving him insane before he was through the hall. He remembered how he once covered the floor with water and soap and slid through the entire hallway in order to have an angry Ja'far lighten up. Or that potted plant, which he always planned on using as a cover one day to press Ja'far to the wall and kiss him senseless - he never did it, but he thought of it every single time he saw the tempting plant. The way the sunlight would fall through the narrow windows to turn Ja'far's hair into a blazing white light. Or how he once trudged through this hall, dragging his fingers over the wall dejectedly as Ja'far had coldly informed him he could go get lost if he wasn't going to do any work. And that door at the end led to a small study, mostly used by guests or small meetings, but sometimes Ja'far would hide in it with a book from the library just ahead. He always looked mesmerizing, curled up in the windowsill, engrossed by the text he was reading.

But then again, he hadn't found Ja'far doing that for years anymore. Ja'far was always in the offices nowadays, and the only texts he read were his paperwork.

He felt a guilty stab in his stomach, remembering just what he had realised these past few days he had been a child. He had grown up lazy. Even though he reached his goals and became king of his own country, he didn't grow up into the kind of man he would've wanted. He had been genuinely upset with himself for forcing Ja'far into the position he was in now.

He should fix this. As soon as possible.

Maybe he could even go do Ja'far's paperwork later today, when he had some rest and Ja'far had woken up and calmed down again. He wouldn't have expected being a child for two days would open his eyes like this.

But first, he'd need to get to bed, and make sure Ja'far wouldn't do anything stupid when he woke up.

He shifted the child's weight on his arm as he walked into the courtyard, watching the sun catch on bright white hair. Shadows of unkept locks played over long lashes and sprinkled freckles. The child was so cute.

Just as the grown man was so cute.

He whispered softly into the child's hair. "I just can't get enough of you, can I?"

...

The first bits of consciousness leaking into his dreamless sleep were of a pounding headache. The second part was an unnatural heat surrounding him.

He wasn't quite sure what happened. He rarely woke up to a headache. Moreover, normally when he woke up, it would be by opening his eyes and jolting upright, ready for the kill. Of course that idiot of a Sinbad would be immediately awake and scolding him for even sleeping with his knives at all as of late, but that wasn't going to change his sleeping habits so easily. Feeling anything of a waking process before being up and about was rare - if not unheard of.

Was he sick? Had he been given some poison he wasn't immune to yet?

He didn't get hit in the head, did he? The mere thought of someone overpowering was humiliating. Whoever this bastard was, he was going to gut him and put his organs on display-

Now that he thought of it, what was that warmth around him?

Only one thing came to mind. Someone was holding him down. Someone was trying to kill him. Someone was using his most vulnerable moment - while he was sleeping - and hit him in the head - explaining the headache - and was now holding him down bodily in order to suffocate him.

He needed air.

His eyes flashed open and he pushed at the body pressed against him, ready to slip out his knives and stab- Where the fuck were his knives?

"C-calm down," the low voice sounded appropriately startled, but a little too confident. Still, it seemed he had woken the man up as effectively as a bucket of cold water, and the arms around him tightened to hold him close. He was pressed up against a huge plane of hard muscles - bluff, that - and effectively rendered defenseless, to his frustration.

"Get off of me! If you don't let me go this instant I'm going to tear your eyes out of your face and make you fucking swallow them!"

"Hold your horses, Ja'far. Calm down and listen to me first, would you?"

He stiffened. So this guy knew him, huh? He certainly didn't know anyone with a low husky voice like that - although he could imagine Sinbad growing up into a seductive man like this, the bastard - but apparently he knew about him. So this was an assassination attempt after all, huh?

He only had to wonder how this man got to him without him waking up. Or waking Sinbad up. That guy was surprisingly effective for such a ditz.

"Release me! Now!" His hiss was sharp enough for the man to flinch, but still this complete moron kept holding him tight. If only he had his knives, he'd already be feeding a kebab of this fucking idiot's kidneys to him-

"Ja'far! Be reasonable and let me explain! And here I thought you'd be smart enough to recognise me, really. I'm not going to let go of you until you calm down and agree to talk this over first."

Ja'far seethed, his blunt nails scratching pointlessly at the smooth silk clothes of the man holding him down. He shot forward to bite, but couldn't even get a grip with his teeth on the plane of muscle. And he'd be damned to target a nipple, he'd almost gotten raped for that before. Damn assassins.

But with his legs kicking without causing any damage and his body writhing without getting anywhere closer to freedom, he knew he'd have to give in eventually.

For now, he could hope the man would give in first.

He squirmed and bucked his body, trying to wriggle out from between the strong arms. He tried knocking his head into the chest, attempting to break the man's sternum - or well, at least bruise him enough to get some reaction. It's not like he had much weight to put into the headbutt. He tried to kick this man in the shins, or maybe he could reach his nuts with a knee and make him squirm and cry like a little baby- no such luck.

Eventually, he cried out in frustration and went limp, awaiting whatever fate this man had in mind for him. There was no way he could win at such a close range without his weapons. He was effectively pinned down and defeated.

Until the guy made the mistake of giving him an inch of space, at least. Because that would be all he needed to get out of here, find something to kill the guy with and find his way back to Sinbad and the others.

What a failure. Sinbad had promised to take care of him.

Not that he needed an idiot like that to take care of him. Ever. He'd rather die.

But maybe that was what he was about to do.

"...are you ready to start listening yet?"

"Just fucking kill me if that's what you want. I lost, okay? I don't need to live knowing there's yet another man who can defeat me, one fucking idiot is enough."

"You're so quick to decide over life and death," he could feel the hard chest retreating in a sigh. It almost distracted him from the matter at hand... but not entirely.

"It's my job to be quick in my decisions," he quipped.

"Not anymore. Stop acting like an assassin already, will you? I mean, you made up with Sinbad, right?"

Ja'far blinked confused. This guy had been tracking him?

"What's it to you?"

"You're travelling with Sinbad, am I right?"

"You're not getting anything out of me." He closed his eyes, ready for whatever the guy was going to do to him now. If he wanted Sinbad, he was going to be disappointed. Ja'far didn't tell, even if he would start burning his soles or pulling his nails out. He wasn't afraid of some torture.

To his surprise the man didn't get angry. He merely sighed again, allowing for Ja'far to curiously follow the movement to the large chest. It was good information to see this up close, he could probably one day use it when he was about to assassinate someone. It wasn't like he was watching for the aesthetics or anything. He didn't have time for such nonsense.

"I'll take that as a yes. So that means you are no longer an assassin from Sham Lash, but you are loyal to Sinbad. Or at least as loyal as you're going to get."

Ja'far kicked angrily, even though he knew it was pointless. This man already knew too much. And the way he was telling him this was plain humiliating. Like he failed or something, and was supposed to be Sinbad's disobedient dog now. He'd show this man disobedient.

"But if you're in that situation, that means you must be open to reason, right? If I explain the situation to you, you will listen to me and decide what to do based on that information instead of trying to kill me immediately, right?"

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. I'll listen. I'll draw my conclusions. And if you have some pretty damn good reasons, I might just spare your life."

The chest jolted as if the man choked on a chuckle, but he didn't make a sound. Ja'far glared up angrily for the first time, because if he was grinning now, he'd kill him anyway. He could only see the man's chin from the underside though, so even if the man was laughing he wouldn't know.

He did notice the dark purple hair for the first time now. That was rather curious. It was the exact same shade as Sinbad's. He'd never seen anyone with a colour this deep before, and it was unnerving to see it in a strange place like this.

"So what if I tell you you are no longer in your own time? Whatever it was you went asleep to last time you remembered, it wasn't today or yesterday. That was fifteen years ago. You lived fifteen years from your last memory, but magic turned you back to what you are now, erasing all those fifteen years for you completely."

This man was insane, wasn't he?

"What the fuck are talking about." It wasn't even a question. If it was a question, it would imply that the man was making any sense.

"You just lost fifteen years of your life. You currently are the way you were fifteen years ago. From your perspective, you went fifteen years into your own future. Getting it?"

"So what, you're saying that I survived fifteen years from now next to that idiot of a Sinbad? Or did I leave him or something? I doubt I'd still be alive in fifteen years with that fucking moron and his irresponsible behaviour."

"Ja'faaar, that's not nice!"

He froze completely at the whine. The purple hair, the husky voice... They were only small hints, not enough for any sort of conclusion. But that whine was exactly like Sinbad would've sounded, giving him the same craving to just stab something in annoyance.

Spot on in everything.

"Let me go," he whispered with a strained voice. He couldn't believe this. Perhaps Sinbad had family he hadn't talked about or something, or perhaps it was that crazy bitch Falan who had sent someone after him. Sinbad didn't have this large of a chest, nor a voice quite this deep - especially not lacking the squeaky noises of a teenage voice breaking. This couldn't be a fifteen year older version of the Sinbad he knew.

"Only if you promise not to try to kill me and remain calm."

"Okay."

The man seemed a little surprised at his easy confirmation, hesitating a little longer before finally releasing him. The strong arms slowly slid away from his back, allowing him to roll over and away from the broad chest he'd been looking at all the time. And the moment he looked up, he indeed saw Sinbad, but an older one.

He had aged handsomely.

"Are you fucking with me?" He asked in a tiny voice.

The man cringed a little at the wording. "I'm doing no such thing, I can promise you that."

"You're Sinbad then...?"

He nodded, a look torn between relief and sadness on his face. He wondered why Sinbad would look sad at that. Shouldn't he be happy Ja'far recognised him? After all, he would've killed him now if he didn't.

He curled in on himself, hugging his arms around his body. He felt so naked without his knives. Sinbad must've taken them off without his permission. He must've been very deeply asleep.

He felt a little lost.