He woke in an illusion. It had to be, because it was a beautiful summer day, and he was lounging by the mansion’s pool in the skimpy speedos he’d always fantasized about wearing but never dared in case Quentin couldn’t handle it.

He rubbed at his eyes and looked left once the vision of sunshine and peace refused to leave.

Freddy lay on a lounger next to him, sipping some brightly colored drink through a straw and wearing only a pair of pale cream shorts.

Laurence’s fingers felt down his face. The beard was still there.

He remembered now. Remembered how long it had taken to grow beyond his regularly maintained stubble. Everything he had gone through, all the torment Freddy and Mikey had put him through.

Quentin fighting his own father until the older man surrendered.

Laurence blinked and let his hand fall to his side. He rested his head back against the lounger and watched the ocean beyond the garden wall. “What now?” he asked.

“Now I’m undertaking some repairs,” Freddy said as he put the drink down on the table to his left. “This will take a while. I want to make sure it’s done properly.”

“Haven’t you messed around inside my head enough already?” He glanced sidelong at Quentin’s brother.

Freddy shrugged. “I’ve rather enjoyed the experience, truth be told. It’s been a stretch of my skill and ingenuity.”

Laurence scowled at him. “You want a gold star?”

“Oh, no.” Freddy sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the lounger so that he could sit facing Laurence. He rested his elbows on his knees. “But I do want to ensure that you are not likely to succumb to any withdrawal symptoms after all of this. You shouldn’t have to suffer any more than you already do.”

“How about less?” Laurence sat too, and turned to face Freddy full-on. He gripped his knees with his hands and squared his shoulders. “You can cure me. You’ve said it before.”

“You’re already curing yourself, Laurence.” Freddy’s lips twisted into the faintest of smirks. “Recall that I said an addict always has an underlying cause?”

Laurence nodded briefly. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hear it. The cure was right there in front of him, but now there was going to be some dumb excuse as to why Laurence couldn’t have it. “Sure,” he grunted. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious.” Freddy shook his head. “Herne even told you, didn’t he? That you need to hunt, that without it you will act without self-control.”

A chill ran through him, and he narrowed his eyes at Freddy. “Just how much of my mind have you gone through?”

“Pretty much all of it. Do you want help or not?” Freddy waved a hand. “Don’t answer. You’d only say no then regret it later. Look, that drive to hunt is what got your father addicted to chocolate, and it’s what got you hooked on heroin. But now you’ve started to hunt, now you’re with Icky, you’ve had fewer urges, yes? Notwithstanding the need you had after you witnessed… the facts of Icky’s situation. Anyone would grab the brain bleach after seeing that.”

He curled his lip and lifted his legs back onto the lounger, sprawling out with his arms above his head to bask in the imaginary sunshine. “Okay. Sure.”

“But your powers have waned since you’ve been unwilling to sleep with Icky.”

“You’re saying if I just sleep with him like nothing ever happened, like we don’t know what we know now, everything goes back to normal, and I’m cured forever?” Laurence laughed a little.

Freddy shrugged. “It won’t be quick. Or easy. But if I wave a magic wand and make the whole thing go away you will have this space inside you and you will want to fill it.” He brushed fingertips across his lips briefly. “You have shown him all the patience and kindness he needs, and it’s because of your experience, your addiction, your fear of letting something good slip through your fingers. If I take away your past and the lessons it’s taught you, you’ll try to jump on him like a horny teenager, and you will lose him. But that would also mean he loses you, and you truly are the best thing ever to happen to him, Laurence. I won’t let you throw it all away chasing some mirage.”

Laurence dropped his arms and sat up again. This time he crossed his legs together, lotus style, and laid his forearms across them. “You love him, don’t you?”

Freddy snorted at him. “Just because I’m aromantic doesn’t mean I do not feel love, Laurence. Of course I love him. He’s my brother. I did everything I could to protect him all through our childhoods, and I’m still trying to protect him now. If I didn’t love him we wouldn’t even be in this mess. I would’ve handed him over to Father years ago and that would’ve been the end of it.”

“But you didn’t know what your dad did back then?”

“I had my suspicions. Only once we were older, mind you. And then when I read law it all made far too much sense, but I still preferred not to believe it. When I met you-” he pointed to Laurence “-and found that you shared my suspicions, it became unavoidable.”

Laurence nodded slightly. “Did you make me look back and see what had happened?”

“I may have fed the fire,” Freddy answered, “but you had already lit that spark. You would have done it sooner or later. You are a hero, Laurence. You know in your heart that you will see bad things, but you look anyway, because you must. Because truth must be found. You are a good man, and you are the man that he needs.” He smiled wistfully. “Look after him, Laurence. I can’t always be there.”

Laurence scratched his beard, then nodded faintly. “I will.”

“There’s a good lad. And here’s a freebie for you.” Freddy leaned forward and glanced around as though they might be overheard, then lowered his voice. “You like pain, dear boy.”

“What?” Laurence blurted it out and recoiled back from Freddy. “What the hell, man?”

“It’s quite all right. You seem to feel there’s something bad about it, that you shouldn’t even think about it, but it’s there, nibbling away at you. I’m in no way suggesting that you wish to be harmed, but under the right circumstances?” Freddy shrugged his broad shoulders. “Stop worrying about it. Human sexuality is a complex thing. By all means be cautious, but do explore. There is nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing.”

Heat surged to Laurence’s cheeks. How dare Freddy think that was any of his business!

“Now wait a-”

But Freddy waved, and the sunshine faded away, leaving Laurence with the dim world of a hospital bed, and a strong urge to punch Freddy in the face.

* * *

“Laurence!”

Laurence blinked again and found Quentin by his bedside, their fingers entwined together. Despite the dried blood on his own shirt, it was Laurence who was on a bed, surrounded by plastic curtains, and with a nurse just leaving the cubicle.

Quentin was here. After all that he’d seen of Laurence - addiction, withdrawal, the junkie at the heart of the man - he was still here.

“Baby.” Laurence cast a last parting middle-finger thought to Freddy as he smiled up at Quentin. “Why am I here? Am I hurt?”

“No. No, not physically.” Quentin’s eyebrows tugged together as he fussed over Laurence’s hair. “How do you feel? Freddy said that he could…” He tailed off.

“Yeah. He did.” Laurence grimaced and sat up, then rested a foot on Quentin’s chair, to one side of his thighs. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know that a hospital is the place to have that discussion,” Quentin said gently. “People here need help, not me.”

“Don’t say it like that, Quen.” Laurence frowned at him. “Where’s Freddy?”

“Overseeing Michael’s treatment. I think he wishes to ensure that it goes well.”

Laurence licked his lips. There was so much he wanted to say, questions he had to ask, but Quentin was right. This wasn’t the place. If something tipped Quentin over the edge here, people could die.

He looked down to the long, thin fingers he held. They were white against his own fading tan, and they looked so fragile, yet Laurence’s repaired memory readily furnished him with the sight of this same man bending the elements to his will, fighting to protect Laurence and to defeat his own father.

There was something else Laurence needed to talk about, so he raised his chin and looked Quentin in the eye. “We should get out of here,” he said. “Find somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can rest, recover. Then maybe talk, if you want to.”

Quentin inclined his head faintly. “Where would you suggest?”

“Hey.” Laurence lifted Quentin’s fingers so that he could kiss them. “It’s your country, baby, not mine, but why don’t we find a quiet hotel somewhere and get some rest, huh?”

Quentin bit his lip and looked down to his hand. “I have no ability to guarantee that I will not ruin another hotel room,” he breathed.

“Sure,” Laurence agreed. “But it’s a hell of a journey back home, and if you can’t sleep before it you’ll sleep during it.”

Quentin’s gaze darkened, and he nodded. “Very well. But we are taking a taxi.”

“Well I wasn’t gonna propose we walked.” Laurence cracked a small smile.

“Ah, I thought for a moment you might suggest that we fly and, having given that matter due consideration and experimentation, I can conclude that it is every bit as silly as I thought it might be.”

Laurence laughed and hopped off the bed. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get out of here.”