Flow: Epilogue

He was floating, warm and comfortable, on the edge of a dream. Sounds were beginning to register – a distant ringing phone, voices, the beeping of a truck in reverse. There was activity, and as the dream receded, dissolving, he felt the strangeness of being asleep in the middle of the day while the world carried on around.

"I think he's waking up."

The voice was soft, familiar….Jonathan. Cameron pushed at the last tendrils of sleep and opened his eyes just enough to see his brother seated by his bed, leaning toward him.

"Should I call you Sleeping Beauty?" Jonathan asked softly.

"Hm. Cuz tha' wouldn' be weird." His voice sounded rough, and Kay was suddenly there next to Jonathan, looking concerned.

"Cameron," she ordered. "Wake up now, okay?"

"Okay…." He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, slipping into consciousness. He squinted at Kay. "What?"

She sighed. "Sorry. I just – you sounded a bit…sorry." She smiled at him, then nodded to Jonathan. "I'll leave you guys; I'll be in the hall."

"Thanks." Jonathan watched her leave, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Cameron stared after her. "What was that about?"

"The doc said something about keeping an eye out for symptoms. Slurred speech, coordination issues. You know, signs of…well. So how you feeling?"

"Not bad," Cameron said. He held up both hands, experimentally wiggled his fingers. "And I seem to be coordinated. But what are you doing here?"

A raised eyebrow. "Well, Kay was able to use the fact that you nearly died to get me furloughed to see you. Smart, no?"

"Uh…smart yes. And I'm glad. But I didn't nearly die."

Jonathan paused and seemed to study him. "Yes, you did," he said.

"Nah. Just had a confused little…adventure." The immediacy and oddity of it had faded a bit, leaving jumbled details that made little sense in hindsight.

There was quiet for a moment, then Jonathan cleared his throat. "So Kay said you were freaked out about the car. You imagined it even though you hadn't seen it before."

"Yeah," Cameron admitted. "But I thought about that. I was obviously wrong."

"About?"

"About never seeing it. We'd searched Stein's apartment a day before. I probably saw papers, maybe a photo of him with the car or something. And the place was creepy, so my brain made it sinister." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. What I know is there was nothing supernatural going on – just a head injury messing with my perception."

His brother was silent, eyeing the ceiling, and Cameron suddenly felt as though something in the room had shifted while he wasn't paying attention. "Johnny?" He waited for an answer, the air between them heavy, strained. "Johnny," he pressed. "What's go—"

"I knocked you out too," Jonathan said quietly. "Back in the vault. I was part of that." His eyes were locked on the bland tiles.

Cameron opened his mouth to disagree, to argue, but he couldn't. It had happened. He had run down the hallway, met Jordan, knocked Jordan down, reached the vault. Everything had gone dark, then everything was light again and chaotic. Johnny had pounded on the window, panicked. He searched for words, but all that would come was, "You couldn't have known." It sounded trite.

Jonathan gaped at him. "I couldn't have known what? That it was you? That it would hurt you? That you're not invincible, even if you are 'The Great Cameron Black'? What, Cam?"

That pretty much covered it, and Cameron couldn't help grinning.

"What are you thinking and why is it funny?"

Reaching out, Cameron wiggled his fingers again and waited for Johnny to take his hand. It took a moment (it always had). He sighed. "I'm thinking there was no way for you to keep me out of this," he said. "No way, Johnny. And it's funny because no matter how many times we go through it, you always seem to figure it'll be different next time."

"It comes with the territory, little brother."

"By a few minutes, Johnny."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yeah it does." Shifting to get a bit more comfortable, Cameron studied his twin. Jonathan was wearing his prison skin, the tiny lines showing around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. His back was as straight as ever, but the hand that wasn't gently holding Cameron's was clenched in his lap. He radiated tension, fatigue. Cameron met his gaze evenly. "It matters, Johnny," he said again.

"I'm not even sure what we're talking about," Jonathan countered.

"We're talking about the fact that we can't always be there to keep each other safe," Cameron said. "You know that. We're not kids anymore. You're locked up and I'm running around with the FBI. Things will happen."

Jonathan peered at him. "Things will happen?"

Cameron smirked. "It sounded wise in my head."

"Maybe you do have brain damage."

His eyes were heavy, and Cameron struggled to keep them open. The doctor had said he'd probably sleep more than normal for a few days after the surgery, at least partly because he hadn't slept much at all in the weeks before.

"You're tired," Jonathan said, releasing his hand.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But not too tired to spend some time with my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother."

Letting his eyes close, Cameron smiled. "Yes you are."

….

End (seriously this time...cheers!)

Note: Apologies for the radio silence and lack of updates...busy-busy time at work and I've been coming home knackered enough that I just want to sleep on the couch. Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and offered suggestions...including the suggestion that maybe Jonathan deserved the final word in this story. So I dusted him off and gave him some time. I hope you enjoyed!

Now I'm going to see about reading some stuff and checking in on the petition!