He woke in a room of white before was guided through golden halls with grand pillars. An angel guide walked them down endless corridors, explaining the rooms and telling them about which angel did what… but it was all just a drone. A really boring one, in fact. Not only was it self-explanatory, but somehow he knew it all. Even knew the way to the main hall, where he was being led to two very familiar angels.

"Aria here is one of our messengers," the Archangel's voice tears him out of his train of thought. Another beautiful angel smiles, inclines her head in greeting as she hands Destiny a scroll. She reminds him of a member of royalty, quiet but with hidden steel beneath her demure exterior. "She hands you the name of your next ward, whom you will guard and protect, to make sure his or her life doesn't meet its end before it is time."

The Archangel goes on to talk about how it'd feel if his wards are endangered, blah, blah blah blah… His mind wanders again, to the laughing, hyperactive six-winged boy who crashed into them as they entered, before apologising and taking off again. Chance, is it? Yes. Chance, the other Archangel. This entire dimension is new, but at the same time so damn uncannily familiar that it somehow unsettles something deep inside him. Chance's hair is jet black, features sharp. He expects the tips of his wings to be black, as if dipped in ink, but the boy's wings are pure white. When their eyes meet he realises there's no evil in there — why was he expecting anything like that anyway? — or any hint of recognition in the boy's eyes.

Maybe he's just overthinking things.

The Archangel is demonstrating how to use a spear, to make it appear and disappear at whim. He nods just to pretend that he's listening, bored out of his wits, scanning the vast hall and its empty pews, wondering when he'd seen them filled to bursting with rows of angels ready for war.

Then in the trail of angels flitting in and out of the room, he spots someone he is certain he knows.

Without hesitation he spreads his wings and speeds over to the angel. Everything inside him has gone blank, only the single-minded thought to get to him before he goes out of sight.

"Wait! Hold on!"

All the other angels turn but that one angel. Didn't he shout loud enough? The Archangel's calling him back. Even she heard… He tears after the towheaded angel and finally manages to catch up outside the hall. Other angels dodge out of the way, knowing better than to intervene.

He's panting slightly as he cuts into the angel's path, making him stop walking.

This familiar face, wise beyond his years. Kind eyes. Ocean blue eyes.

He can't be mistaken.

"Hello. Can I help you?" asks the angel with a smile.

Somehow he knows how to read the slight tensed muscle of the angel's jaw, it gives away his anxiety.

"You," he grits out.

There's a twitch in the angel's brow, faint but just perceptible. Or maybe he was actually waiting for it, just for confirmation? It's absurd, but it's as though the angel's hurting just from the sound of his voice, pain is etched out all over his features and it's sin to see it there.

The angel holds his gaze for a moment, searching for something. Recognition. Please let it be recognition. Even if it isn't, let him find something. Anything. He waits, not even daring to breathe lest he break whatever this angel is looking for.

At last, the angel tilts his head.

Nothing at all?

He clenches his fist.

"I'm sorry, do we…?"

"Stop pretending," he hisses. He raises a hand into the air to slam it against the wall — once upon a time he would bring it down so hard his palm would ache — but the urge leaks out of him and he drops his hand, drops his head.

"What are you talking about?"

"Please stop pretending."

The angel looks alarmed, but he can tell the angel's torn apart too. He knows, he swear he knows otherwise. "Pretending to what? I'm sorry, I really don't know how to help you."

It's so confusing because why is this angel so conflicted?, why is this angel so important to him?, why — no, who is this angel?

Someone familiar. Someone he fought very hard for. Someone precious.

Someone who was waiting, for sure.

"I love you," he blurts out.

The angel falls silent.

"I don't know who you are or what you do in here but I know I love you. I…" He shakes his head ruthlessly to clear the static fighting to cloud his mind. "I remember these halls, I remember walking down them, with you by my side. I can't be wrong."

When he opens his eyes again the angel's expression has softened.

"You remember?"

"I… I don't know," he whispers.

"You fought very hard to save me," smiles the angel. It feels like he is staring into a setting sun, it is grand and beautiful and warm as the sea twinkles in its light.

"Twice," he says, though he doesn't know how he knows.

The angel nods, and there is real water glistening in his eyes of ocean blue. "Do you remember my na—"

"Freud," he's smiling now, his smile growing so wide it threatens to split his face into two, the name feels like heaven on his lips, "Freud. Freud, Freud the Dragon Master."

The angel laughs, and tears of relief slip from his eyes.

Yes. Yes, that's it.

"I love you so much, Freud."

The angel flings himself into his grip, and the world has never felt so right.

He nuzzles into the strands of spun oak, breathing in, clutching the angel called Freud so tight that he feared the angel would break in his grasp. "I was afraid you'd forget," mumbles Freud into his robes.

"I would never. I swore you'd hear me say I love you again."

"And I know it won't be the last."

He grins. "I should get to it then."

The angel's expression falters. "I don't like that expression of yours—"

"I love you!" he roars, ignoring those who turn and glare, laughing as the angel turns as red as a dragon master's robes.

"Great," he deadpans, though a smile is belying his relief and embarrassment. "Now you're here and I have to deal with you all over again."

"You can't get enough of me."

He cards his fingers in the strands as the angel presses close, arms reaching around to encircle his waist.

"Destiny had to reset the day to shift things back to their original course…" the angel murmurs, suddenly feeling very light and fragile in his arms, as though the surge of relief had taken all his strength and left an empty shell, "And I didn't have the chance to say goodbye."

He grips the angel tighter, so tight that surely any feeling of regret is compressed smaller and smaller, and smaller still, until it is completely gone.

"Well, that doesn't matter any more. I'm here, and so are you."

The angel hums contentedly in his arms.

"So… care to tell me how I saved you?"

"Can't it wait. You're ruining the moment."

"But I'm dying to hear how awesome I was. Do expound on my amazing skills and maneuvers. A scholar like you should remember every single detail, hmm?"

The angel huffs at him, and he bursts out laughing.

"Fine. But you'll have to convince Destiny to give you a night off first."

"Huh! What for?"

"You'll see."

Yes, this is where he's meant to be.

"I've… I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too."

Right here, after time rewound and eras transcended and histories rewritten, in the arms of the one he loves most.

-end-

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It is finished, after ten long months.

Thank you for reading all the way though, it was a bunch of blood sweat and tears (for both Phantom and Freud and myself, actually ha ha).

This wouldn't have been possible without Kiera, who encouraged me through a better half of the fic; or Noct, who encouraged me to continue (albeit with subtle glares and threats) and I really wouldn't have had the drive to finish it otherwise

And of course, to every one of you who took the time to read, comment, or favorite it. Cheers!