#lemfero | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariusperkins · 7 years ago

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FIC: mental losses and acquisitions (1/1)

Fero’s memories are taken by the Department of Mental Acquisitions. Luckily, he has his new-old friend Lem to help him find them (and make a few new ones).

A/N: AU from Winter in Hieron 21: The Shield of Our Will, which should tell you how long this has been sitting in my wip folder. Thanks to @madelinestarr, for looking it over, helping with bits and pieces, and betaing (and just thanks, in general, for Being)

Read it under the cut or on AO3.

Here is what Fero knows:

- His name is Fero, because the orc who was here kept calling him that (although it’s possible it’s some kind of orcish curseword since the orc seems pretty mad at him)

- The orc who was here wanted Fero to tell him something that Fero couldn’t remember (the orc seemed very angry about this)

- The orc did something (pattern magic Fero’s mind supplies) and it hurt, and made the world tilt at a weird angle, which is why Fero is sitting down on the floor

- The orc who was here got called away, and now Fero is here alone, on the floor

- His hand hurts - or, rather, it doesn’t hurt now, but he knows it was hurt (the orc kept pressing on it, using it like a pressure point)

- There’s blood on the table (his blood)

- He doesn’t remember anything from before he was in this room

He wonders how long he’s been here. He doesn’t feel hungry. It’s possible he was always here, in this room with polished metal walls. Maybe he was just born? But that doesn’t seem right either.

If he concentrates very, very hard, he can picture other places. Or maybe they’re just stories of other places. There’s a bookcase on the far wall. Maybe he’s read about other places.

Here is what Fero remembers:

- a quiet forest with tall, tall trees

- someone whistling a song he doesn’t know, but likes immediately

- the feeling of flying; the rush of deep, cold seawater

- the murmur of a crowd (it makes in nervous, like he’s waiting for something)

- the loud roar of a fire, out of control

- big paws throwing him into the air, a booming laugh

- guilt, heavy in his chest

Everything else is a dark space in his mind. Fero’s been trying to link them together - maybe the crowd goes with the fire, maybe the laugh belongs to the person who whistled - but when he puts them next to each other in his mind, they slide away from one another, like something in his brain knows there’s supposed to be other things in between. It makes him feel dizzy.

There’s yelling outside, the sound of doors slamming and the vibration of something, an explosion maybe. Fero tries to stand, but the world tilts viciously again, the walls and floor sliding around, and he lowers himself to the floor again before he can fall. He can feel the vibrations of the explosions in the floor as he presses his palms down, trying to steady himself.

The yelling gets louder, accompanied by banging, and then the door in front of him slams open. Another orc stands in the doorway. He’s younger than the other one, his skin a deep green. His expression is different too, less fixed and still, tendrils of hair coming out of his long braid. He looks startled, and then relieved.

“Fero!” says the orc. He turns back, shouts out the door, “Ephrim! I found him!”

Fero pushes himself backwards. He can’t go very far with the bed behind him and the floor sliding around like it is, but the movement makes the orc frown at him.

“Fero?” says the orc. “Fero, are you alright? You look very pale-”

There’s another explosion. Some of the pottery shards fall to the floor. Fero winces.

“Never mind, we have to get out of here,” the orc takes a step towards him. “Come on.”

Fero bites his lip. This orc seems to know him, but so did the other orc.

“Fero,” huffs the orc, “come on, we don’t have time for this, Ephrim can only keep a distraction going for so long and we still have to find our way out of this mess, and who knows how many plants I’m going to have to take care of to balance this out-”

He’s talking very fast, and Fero has a flash of certainty - oh he only sounds like this when he’s worried, better go -and then it’s gone again.

“Fero?” says the orc, frowning down at him.

“I think so,” says Fero slowly. “I’m still trying to work it out from context clues.”

A human backs up by the door, bringing with him a wave of heat and the sharp tang of metal. He looks over his shoulder at them.

“Lem, we’ve got to go-”

“I know, I know, I just-” the orc, Lem, crouches down next to Fero. “Fero?”

“Is he hurt?” says the human - Ephrim, Fero guesses. (Hey, he’s getting pretty good at this context clues thing, maybe he's a detective?)

“I’m fine,” says Fero. “Or, I think so. I don’t remember getting hurt, but I don’t really remember anything, right now.”

Ephrim looks from him to Lem. “It’s like Devar says - mental acquisitions.”

“I didn’t think he meant they’d take memories,” says Lem.

Ephrim runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. “This had better not be some kind of joke.”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” asks Fero.

“Why do you ever joke about anything?” says Ephrim.

“I don’t know,” says Fero. “I don’t remember.”

“Well, I’m Lem,” says Lem, “and this is Ephrim. We’re… we’re your friends, and we’re here to help you, but right now we’re here specifically to get you out of here.”

Fero thinks about this for a moment. The room shakes again, and from Ephrim and Lem’s reaction it’s not just him imagining the movement.

“Yeah, okay,” says Fero, and tries to stand.

He gets about halfway up before the room tilts, and he falls into Lem. Lem, to his credit, has much faster reflexes than Fero would have thought for someone his size, keeping a steady arm around Fero’s side-

He throws himself into the air to land on the grey-skinned halfling on Lem’s back, trying to pull them off, Lem’s hurt but he’s not going to die, not if Fero has a say in it, gods, they have to get out of here-

“Oh,” says Fero, his head spinning, “Ow. I’m not always like this, am I?”

“No, you’re not. I’m sure it’s wear off soon and you’ll be back to normal in no time,” says Lem. He doesn’t sound very convinced.

The room shakes again, and Ephrim peeks out into the corridor. “Lem-”

“Yeah. Okay. Um, Fero,” begins Lem hesitantly, “we’ve got to go, I think I might need to- that is, do you mind if I carry you?”

Fero shrugs. The motion sends the floor rolling beneath him again and he grips the fabric of Lem’s shirt, trying to steady himself. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever says that to me,” says Lem, huffing a laugh.

It’s a nice laugh. It’s not the booming one Fero can sort of remember, but it makes Fero’s chest feel warm. It’s nice. Fero decides he likes the sound of it.

Lem scoops him carefully up in his arms, cradling Fero to his chest. Fero burrows his face into Lem’s shoulder. The world spins around far less with his eyes closed. The smell of the shirt grounds him. It almost reminds him of something, but trying to grab hold of the memory is like trying to grip smoke. Fero focuses instead on breathing, and not throwing up on his new-old friend.

There’s more explosions, echoing through the corridors, the noise bringing a billowing heat. Fero can hear Lem’s harsh breathing from when he’s pressed against Lem’s chest, Ephrim’s a distant sound somewhere ahead of them. (Or maybe behind them? Things still feel a little like they’re sliding around) They take one running turn and then another, and then another.

Fero tugs on Lem’s shirt to get his attention, not entirely sure he can speak without throwing up. He doesn’t really know Lem, but he has a feeling he won’t appreciate being vomited on.

Lem gives him a quick look before glancing back ahead of them. “You okay?”

Fero shakes his head which, oh, a very bad idea. He swallows hard a few times in a row, trying to focus on Lem’s heartbeat instead of the rolling-sliding feeling in his stomach.

Lem skids to a stop before they head around the next corner. Fero cautiously opens his eyes. Ephrim has a hand held up, peeking around the corner, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“What is it?” whispers Lem.

Ephrim shushes him. “I’ll go deal with it. Stay here.”

“Deal with what?” hisses Lem, as Ephrim disappears around the corner, “Ephrim!”

Fero tugs on Lem’s shirt again, and Lem looks down. Fero can feel his hands twitch where he’s holding Fero.

“I think,” Fero manages, “that you should put me down.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I think I’m going to be sick.”

Lem flinches, setting Fero down next to him and stepping back just in time to be missed by the stream of bile.

Fero looks at it, in the dim torchlight of the corridor. It doesn’t look like he’s eaten very much, or anything at all really. He wonders again how long he’s been here. Lem and Ephrim must be very good friends of his to have been trying to find him for so long.

Lem puts a hand gingerly on Fero’s shoulder, like he’s trying to touch him without applying any pressure. “Are you okay?”

Fero shakes his head, but slowly. Lem bites his lip, his tongue poking out and hitting a tusk in a way that almost reminds Fero of something. He thinks he thought used to be funny.

Lem nods, more to himself than to Fero, and crouches so that they’re eye to eye. He puts a hand of Fero’s shoulder, a comforting and immediately familiar-feeling weight (even if Fero can’t place the familiarity of it). Fero leans in, putting a hand on Lem’s knee. The world feels steadier when he’s touching Lem.

“Fero, I know you’ve been hurt by pattern magic-” and Fero shakes at the words, but Lem continues, “but I promise it can heal, too. Do you trust me?”

Fero barely knows this orc, but his heartbeat sounded familiar to Fero’s ears (at least, he thinks it’s his ears), and this man saved him, so he gives a thumbs up with his free hand.

Lem hums a small melody, and the spinning slows, but then Fero falls - into Lem’s chest, and then into sleep. The last thing his focuses on is the rough fabric of Lem’s thick jacket pocket against his cheek.

A lot of movement is happening around Fero. Metal clashing and waves crashing but that same melody from before: warmth and safety winding through the bodies and armor and bloodshed to get to Fero’s ears. It’s dangerous to be sure, but Fero feels sure it’ll all work out, he’s with Lem, so of course it’s going to work out.

Fero ducks under elbows and dodges sword swings as he makes his way across the ship. Lem, he’s got to find Lem. It’s important. He doesn't remember why.

Lem glances down at Fero as he sleeps, still cradled in Lem’s arms. He’s trying not to jolt Fero around too much, a difficult task when they’re running through the forest. Hopefully the small sleep pattern Lem gave him will let him rest until they reach the relative safety of Fero’s cave.

Hopefully when he wakes up, Fero would be himself again. It felt… odd to have Fero look at him, no hint of recognition in his gaze. It made Lem feel unsteady. They haven't known each other long, relative to either of their lifespans, but it's strange to not be able to turn to Fero and have Fero understand him at a glance.

Lem leads Ephrim in a winding way to the cave, as much to throw off people chasing them as it is pattern magic disguising their trail. If Ephrim notices that they’ve passed by the same stump three times and trudged through the same stream four times, he doesn’t mention it.

The entrance to Fero’s cave is small and dark. They step inside, and Lem motions to the side of the cave wall.

“Can you, you know, with the fire?” says Lem.

Thankfully Ephrim seems to know what he means, sending a flame down the oil-slick path, lighting the cave as it goes.

It opens up after a little while. Ephrim stands and looks for a moment, tilting his head back to take in the glittering walls of the cave. Lem supposes it is quite a sight, especially the first time you see it, but he’s focussed on the small doorway ahead of them that lead into Fero’s actual rooms. The rooms are plain compared to the cave walls, simple furniture and a few odds and ends Fero’s collected - bright feathers and unusually-shaped rocks.

He lays Fero down gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around him, before sitting down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. There’s a deep, angry-looking bruise across Fero’s small shoulder, creeping part-way up his neck. Lem reaches over, covering Fero more securely with the blanket, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest at the sight.

In his sleep, Fero mumbles and frowns, before settling back down again. Ephrim checks through the room and Lem watches, feeling more tired with every step he sees Ephrim take. Despite their run through and away from the Archives, Ephrim still seems full of restless energy.

“It looks like no one else is here,” says Ephrim.

“Well, yes,” says Lem.

As far as Lem knows, the only people that have ever been in here are himself and Fero (and now Ephrim, he supposes).

“We shouldn’t stay here long.”

“Why?”

Ephrim gives him a strange look. “Because they’ll know where we are?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose,” says Lem, “It’ll be a while before they find us here though.”

He looks towards Fero again. Fero’s small hand is curled around the edge of his pillow. It's comforting to know at least his habits remain the same.

Ephrim taps his boot on the floor. “How long is he going to be asleep for?”

He sounds annoyed, and Lem makes the executive decision not to tell Ephrim about using pattern magic on Fero.

Lem sighs. “I don’t know. Another half hour maybe?”

Ephrim leans on the railing of Fero’s bed for a moment, looking over him. “Do you think when he wakes up that he’ll remember?”

Lem bites his lip. “I’m not sure. I hope so. I don’t have much experience with people who’ve- with people who have been inside the department of mental acquisitions. I mean, no one does.”

Ephrim hums. “You know who did know something about them? Devar. We could ask him if there’s a way.”

“I think us going back into the Archives right now is a bad idea,” says Lem, “especially with Fero… the way he is.”

“Not if I go on my own,” says Ephrim.

Lem looks up at him sharply. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am,” says Ephrim, “We need information, Devar might have it, and someone’s got to stay back here with Fero, and besides, I have Samothes on my side.”

“Ephrim-”

Ephrim holds up a hand. “Lem, look. I’m not good at sitting by bedsides, I never have been. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Do you even know where Devar is?” says Lem, “The Archives are a pretty big place.”

“No,” says Ephrim, smiling, “but I’m sure you can give me a good idea of where he might be.”

Lem lets out a deep sigh. “Ephrim-”

“Or I could just go in there and wander around for a while until I find him,” says Ephrim, “totally up to you.”

Lem scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine.”

With a muffled grunt, Lem pushes himself off the floor to pull some blank papers out of his pack. He sketches a rough map of the dormitories.

“Here,” says Lem, pointing to a spot on the map, “that’s Devar’s room, and here’s where you come in. As long as you remember the path we took to get to the dorms?”

“Of course I do,” says Ephrim. He takes the map and heads to the cave’s entrance. “I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”

Lem sighs again, running a hair through his hair and along his braid. Tendrils of hair have begun to come free from it, tickling his face. Lem wrinkles his nose and begins the process of undoing his braid.

From across the room, Fero makes a soft sound in his sleep and rolls over, curling into a ball under the covers. Lem steps closer, his hands still moving through his hair, frowning as he looks down at Fero. He was never sure if you should wake someone up if you thought they were having a bad dream, and he doubly isn’t sure in this situation.

Lem reaches out a hand, gently touching Fero’s shoulder. Fero stills, but doesn’t wake. The frown on his face disappears and Fero lets out a long, slow breath, relaxing back into a more peaceful sleep. Lem secures his braid one handed, perching on the edge of Fero’s bed, his hand still on Fero’s shoulder.

The world around Fero changes as he walks, the battle fading into the hustle and bustle of a crowded marketplace. They’re safer now, but he still has to find Lem. It’s important. He can’t remember why.

He catches sight of Lem’s hair, flicking as he walks around a corner. Fero breaks into a run, ducking under shopping baskets and people’s elbows, trying to catch up. He gets there just in time to see Lem disappear around another corner. He’s so distracted, trying to move faster, that he runs right into someone’s legs.

Fero looks up, but their features are in shadow, the only thing visible in the glint of gold teeth.

Fero awakes with a start, sitting straight up, his hands tangled in the covers. He looks around him, trying to get his breath back. He’s in a small room with glittering gems covering the walls. The bed he’s currently in is warm and soft and smells faintly of dirt. There are no windows, but it doesn’t give Fero the same panicked-scrambling feeling that the metal room in the New Archives did. He reaches out and touches one of the gemstones that’s jutting out of the wall, leaving a soot-smudge fingerprint on its mirrored surface.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Lem is sitting on the ground by the bed, leaning against the wall. The bed Fero’s on must be low, because their faces are level. Concern is writ deeply onto Lem’s face.

“Yeah,” says Fero, “I guess I am.”

“Do you, um, how do you feel?”

“You mean, do I remember anything?” says Fero.

“I- yes,” says Lem.

Fero closes his eyes, trying to poke around in the blank space in his mind of things that came before the room in the Archives. When he presses against the blank spaces, there was an ache, deepening the harder he pressed. Fero bites his lip, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. When he opens his eyes, Lem’s staring at him expectantly. Fero would like nothing more than to be able to say something, anything, to smooth out the worried lines on Lem’s forehead.

He makes a face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” says Lem quickly.

“Maybe it’ll come back later?” offers Fero.

“I'm sure it will.” Lem clears his throat. “Ephrim’s gone to ask a friend of mine about it. He should be back soon.”

Lem keeps looking at him, so Fero thinks he should probably try to summon an appropriate reaction, the kind of reaction Lem is looking for.

“Okay,” says Fero, “I guess we'll just… wait until he gets back?”

Lem nods, his hand fiddling nervously with the end of his braid. Fero swings his legs over the side of the bed. Whatever Lem did must have helped, because the floor feels solid and unmoving under his feet.

Across the other side of the small room is a single shelf fixed to the gem wall with rough twine. On the shelf is strange collection of objects - pretty feathers and interesting-looking rocks. Next to the shelf there's a small table with one chair in the corner, too small to be Lem-sized.

Fero touches the back of the chair lightly. The wood is smooth not from polish but from long use.

“Where are we?”

Lem pauses before he answers. “We're… this is your home.”

“Oh,” says Fero.

He looks around the room again, trying to get something to catch on his memories now that he knows, but the only thing in the room that seems familiar is Lem.

It looks like a nice place though. There are three other rooms, a small kitchen, an even smaller bathroom, and another bedroom. The bed in that room is larger. He touches the sheets lightly. They feel less worn than the sheets of the bed he woke up in. The wood of the bed is less smooth too. A new addition maybe.

“Do you live here too?” asks Fero.

Lem looks startled, a faint flush to his cheeks. He clears his throat a few times before speaking.

“No, I- I stayed here a few times, but I lived at the Archives,” says Lem.

He speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. Fero squints at him for a moment, trying to figure out what it is exactly that Lem's not telling him, then shrugs. He doesn't know Lem well enough to figure that out. Maybe when he gets his memories back he'll know.

Lem hasn't moved from where he was sitting on the floor. Fero pads over to him, hopping up on the bed beside him, swinging his legs back and forth a little.

“So we're friends?” says Fero.

“I… yes?” says Lem cautiously.

“And I live here,” Fero continues slowly, “wherever here is, and you live at the Archives, which is that place we were before.”

“Yes,” says Lem, “well, not exactly in the place you were in before, I'd never been there before, never even heard of it really, a very surprising thing to hear about-”

He's babbling, and Fero's mind wanders. He's got a nice voice, and he's expressive with his hands in a way that keeps Fero's gaze on him as he talks.

“-which is why Ephrim went to see my friend Devar, you see, because he had heard of it, and maybe he knows how to, um. You know.” Lem waves a hand at him. “Fix it.”

Fero nods. “Remembering stuff would be good.”

Lem lets out a breath. “Yes, it would be.” He looks sidelong at Fero. “You really don't remember anything?”

“Nope,” says Fero, deliberately popping the ‘p’ sound.

“Really?” says Lem.

Fero tilts his head. “There's… some stuff, but it's not… I don't know what any of it is. It doesn't fit together.”

“What sort of stuff?” says Lem. When Fero stays silent Lem nudges Fero's foot with his knee. “Come on, you can tell me, we're friends! I might know what some of them are.”

Fero closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Most of it's just feelings. Water, danger, trees that seem old and nice. Then there's this feeling of like, waiting to do some kind of performance of speech or something in front of a big crowd that I'm nervous about. Someone's deep laugh. Someone else whistling a nice song.” He opens his eyes and makes a face at Lem. “That's it. Told you it's nothing.”

“The song,” says Lem slowly, “was it- did it sound like this?”

And then, bizarrely, miraculously, he whistles the same song from inside Fero's head. Fero sits up straighter.

“Oh! Yeah!” says Fero, delight bubbling inside him, “That's it, that's the one! So that's you!”

“Well I did tell you we were friends,” says Lem.

Fero tilts his head to one side, looking at Lem carefully. “Yeah. I guess you did.” He pauses. “Have we been friends long?”

Lem blinks. “A few years.”

Fero rolls this information over in his mind. It doesn’t feel familiar, but then again, nothing much did.

“We, um, we've been travelling together,” adds Lem.

Again, there’s an odd, scratchy feeling in Fero's mind that made him like there should be more to what Lem’s saying. He presses at it, and feels another wave of dizziness wash over him. Fero grips the edge of the bed, white-knuckled, swallowing hard.

Lem leans forward, putting a steadying hand on Fero's knee. “Hey, Fero, are you- maybe you should rest.”

“I-” Fero licks his lips, trying to focus on the warmth of Lem's hand instead of the rolling of his stomach. “Yeah, okay.”

He feels a little sad when Lem removed his hand, moving to pull back the covers to let Fero clamber under. The world feels like it was spinning again when he closed his eyes.

He looks up at Lem. “Can you whistle that song again?”

“Sure,” says Lem.

The bobbing notes of the tune help settle the world around him, and Fero soon falls back into sleep.

----

Lem bites his lip as he watches over Fero's sleeping form, the notes of the song humming in his mind long after he'd stopped whistling them. That song had been one he'd whistled on their journey from the Archives, once they gotten far enough away that he'd felt safe enough to do more than speak above a whisper. He doesn’t remember Fero having any particular affection for it over any other, although he supposes it was the one he was most given to singing at night. The low notes always reminded him of twilight.

Still. Of all the things for Fero's mind to hold onto, it isn’t the one he would have picked.

The wind howls across the entrance of the cave, making the flames the lot the room flicker and twist, throwing odd shadows against the glittering walls. Despite the cold outside, the cave remains warm. A memory swims to the top of Lem's mind - Fero, a sly grin on his face, boasting about his clever engineering of the gutter the fire ran down, the way it used the cave’s own twists and turns to his advantage. The proud, overconfident Fero in his memory is a far distant one compared to the one sleeping beside him, who looked to Lem after every small step.

Lem taps his fingers on the frame of the bed in time to the tune in his head. Hopefully Ephrim would return soon with a solution to all this, a simple one.

Fero wriggles under the cover, crying out in his sleep. Lem sits up, leaning over the bed to lay a hand on Fero's shoulder as he had before. Instead of calming him, this time it causes Fero to jerk awake, gripping at Lem's sleeve so hard that Lem could feel the scratch of Fero's nails through the fabric. Fero pants, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Fero?”

Fero doesn’t give any indication that he can hear Lem at all, his fingers twisting in the fabric.

Lem reaches out a tentative hand, lighting touching Fero's shoulder again with his free hand. Fero gives a sharp intake of breath, eyes fluttering as he seems to come back to himself.

“Oh,” says Fero, “oh. Sorry. Weird dream. Do I get a lot of those? I feel like I do but maybe it's to do with the no memory thing.”

Fero’s speaking quickly, his eyes darting around the room. He still hasn’t let go on Lem's sleeve.

“Any more memories come back?” says Lem.

“No,” says Fero, “Or, I hope they weren't memories.”

“Right,” says Lem, “Bad dreams.”

It feels so strange to be at a loss for words around Fero. He had sometimes felt like he didn’t have enough words around Fero, but those occurrences had been more to do with Fero doing something wildly dangerous than awkwardness. This feels more like he’s reaching for a word that isn’t quite within his grasp, like the phrase that would help Fero was there in his mind if only he could remember it.

Fero grip loosens on Lem's sleeve. “Sorry. For not remembering.”

“It's okay,” says Lem, “well, it's not, but it's not your fault. I could… try to tell you things, see if that helps?”

Fero nods. “Sure. What am I like?”

Lem laughs, catching himself by surprise. Fero smiles, that broad, bright smile Lem had only seen on him a handful of times before.

“Well,” says Lem, taking a breath, “let's see. When we met you'd been living here for… oh, I don't know how many years. You never says. Maybe you didn't know, you always did say it was easy to lose track of time out in the woods. Anyway, we met and then a little while later I, uh, had to leave the Archives, so I've only really been here a few times, but it always seemed like a nice place. You made it all from scratch, you says.”

“I dug this cave?” says Fero, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh! No, I mean, you found this cave, but you made everything in it,” says Lem.

Fero runs a finger along the bedframe’s rough wood grain. “I… made this?”

Lem nods. “You made all of it, I think. Do you… does any of it seem familiar?”

Fero pauses, frowning hard down at the bed. He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.”

Lem has a sudden, sharp memory of Fero showing off each individual piece of furniture like a proud parent. Fero knew where every piece of wood and rock in his home had come from, right down to being able to tell you the story of asking each and every bird on the forest for spare feathers to make his mattress with. Now, Lem thinks he'l have to remember those stories for the both of them.

“Is this what I do?” says Fero. “Make furniture?”

Lem hesitates for a moment. “No.”

“So what do I do?”

Follow me around, thinks Lem.

The flames of the room flickers again. Someone clears their throat behind Lem, and he turns to see Ephrim. His clothing is a little damp from the rain, but he doesn’t seem to be injured or in a rush for them to flee, which Lem took as good signs.

“Did you speak to Devar?” Lem asks.

“Briefly,” says Ephrim, “We didn't have much time to go into the more detailed aspects of the pattern but he seemed to believe there was a way to reverse it.”

“Oh good,” says Fero, “because I gotta say, this whole thing? Really sucks.”

“What do we need to do?” says Lem.

He runs through the healing patterns he knows of in his mind, the things you needed for them - eighteen new-dawn droplets of water, three false smiles, half a dozen half-beaten eggs…

Ephrim sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “He didn't know. He thought it might be a case of doing whatever was done to Fero in reverse order, or doing the opposite of whatever was done to Fero in order, but those were just guesses.”

“I'm not a fan of recreating anything,” says Fero. “I'm not doing that again.”

His fingers tighten their grip on Lem's sleeve, and Lem looks down, suddenly aware of how close they are, of how long has hand has been on Fero's shoulder. He quickly withdraws it, turning more towards Ephrim. Fero lets Lem's sleeve slide from his fingers, his hands dropping down into his lap.

“You don't want your memories back?” says Ephrim, raising his eyebrows at Fero.

Fero looks over at him sharply. “Of course I do! There's gotta be another way to do it other than, like, torturing them back into me.”

At the word torturing, Lem flinchs, looking away to the flames.

“Technically if it was the opposite thing that worked, it wouldn't be torture,” says Ephrim.

“I don't want to be experimented on,” says Fero, “I don't know who I was before this, but whoever they were they're not worth that.”

Ephrim looks at Lem. Lem shrugs.

“So we'll… figure out another way,” says Ephrim, “I don't put too much stock in the pattern anyway.”

“Hey, now, just because you don't fully understand a pattern--” begins Lem.

“Lem,” says Ephrim, his tone clipped and precise, “I have been attacked, I have run around the maze of the Archives, and I have been drenched in a rainstorm. I don't want to hear about how great the pattern is right now.”

There’s a crackle in the air. Steam rises faintly from Ephrim’s clothes.

Probably best to leave a discussion of the pattern for a later date, thinks Lem

“Right,” says Lem, quickly. “Right. Of course.”

Fero looks curiously at Lem, then turns to Ephrim. “So. Do we have to go?”

“Yes,” says Ephrim.

Fero shrugs. “Okay. Where are we going?”

Ephrim hesitates for a moment. “Rosemerrow. You have family there, maybe they can help.”

Lem can’t quite suppress a sound of surprise. Ephrim and Fero look over at him.

“Oh, it's just that…” Lem searches for the words. “Fero's not exactly… close? To his family.”

“Oh,” says Fero, looking at Lem curiously. “Why not?”

Lem shifts awkwardly. “I, um. I don’t know. You hadn’t seen them for a while, the last time we were there.”

Fero had never talked much about the specifics of why he’d left in the first place, other than some vague mentions of “not fitting in”. His family, when Lem had met them, had seemed nice enough, gently teasing Fero for not writing them enough while he’d been away. Fero had been… a little tense, but not unexpectedly so.

Fero always got more tense in towns anyway, the more built-up a place was, the more he’d hunch in on himself. Every time he visited Lem in his dorm back at the Archives he’d complain about the lack of windows, dragging Lem out into the forest, making them trek out to some outcropping Fero wanted him to see the view from, or some unusually-shaped tree he thought Lem might like.

He’d done things like that a lot, actually. Lem went from going only from the library to his dorm and back again, to someone who was rarely in either. It had been so different, and he hadn’t had any time to really miss the quiet way things had been with Fero dragging him all over the forest. And then with him dragging Fero out of the forest.

Lem lets his gaze drift across the room, towards the small shelf with its small collection of odd-shaped river stones. He listens to Ephrim with half an ear as he details their path back, nodding along, half-thinking about his own matching shelf in his old Archive dorm room. Fero, never showing up at Lem’s doorstep without some shiny stone or bright feather, as though he was bartering for Lem’s time. Lem had kept them all, of course. You never knew when you might need something for a pattern. And some of the stones were really quite pretty.

He wonders where those stones were now.

Fero rocks back and forth on his heels, listening to Ephrim. He seems to have a good handle on a plan, even if the mention of going back to Rosemerrow (wherever that was) had made Lem go shuttered and still.

Fero wonders why he doesn’t like his family. Maybe they didn’t like Lem, and Lem was too polite to tell him outright in front of Ephrim. That would obviously be a deal-breaker, family-wise. He’d have to ask Lem once they were out of earshot of Ephrim. If Fero’s family didn’t like Lem, then Fero didn’t like them.

“Sounds great,” says Fero, as Ephrim paused for breath, “Do you guys need anything before we go?”

“No,” says Ephrim.

Lem shakes his head.

“Do I need anything before we go?” says Fero.

Lem huffs a laugh. “No, I think you’re fine.”

“Great,” says Fero brightly, “Then we should probably go, right?”

“Will you be okay to walk?” says Lem.

Fero shrugs. He still feels a little tired, but the ground under his feet felt solid, and his head wasn’t spinning.

“Probably,” says Fero, “and you can probably carry me like before if something happens, right?”

Lem clears his throat. “Right.”

Ephrim taps his foot.

“Right!” says Lem, “So let’s… go.”

As they head out of the cave, Lem slows his steps, long legs matching Fero’s smaller, faster pace. Ephrim stalks ahead, still in sight.

“How far is it?” says Fero.

“Oh,” says Lem vaguely, “a few days.”

Lem still has that uncomfortable, edgy look to his face. Time for Fero to use his sleuthing skills to get to the bottom of this.

“So. Do we go see my family a lot?”

Lem blinks. “Ah, no. I only met them for the first time a few months ago.”

“Oh,” says Fero.

“We were in town to… we were there doing something else and we went to visit them,” says Lem.

Lem opens his mouth and then shuts it again, his feet slipping on the rocky ground. Fero’s hand almost came up to brace Lem’s hip before Lem rights himself. Fero’s fingers curled as he lowered his hand.

“I guess it makes sense that going home would help?” says Fero. “Even if I’m not close to them.”

“But that’s not your home,” says Lem, “this is your home.”

“I mean my first home,” says Fero, waving a hand.

“That’s not--” Lem lets out a long breath. “I suppose. Maybe.”

“Worth a try, right?” says Fero.

He smiles up at Lem, hoping to coax out a similar expression from him.

The smile Lem offers him looked a little watery. “Right.”

Fero reaches out, curling his fingers in the cuff of Lem’s sleeve. The fabric feels warm and familiar, and Fero looks at it for a moment, feeling like there was a memory right there, if only he could reach it. It was like seeing something in his peripheral vision, something he couldn’t fully make out. Something about the action itself felt so familiar, so easy, like breathing.

He frowns, looking up at Lem. Lem’s brow is furrowed as he looks down to where Fero’s hand was curled in the fabric of his sleeve.

“Fero?”

Fero lets go, fingers curling in as he withdrew his hand. “Sorry. Don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s fine, it’s something you normally do,” Lem swallows. “Or, it was.”

Fero tentatively reaches out again, letting his finger slowly curl again in the warm fabric. “It feels familiar.”

He closes his eyes, leaning in close to press his face to the fabric. Lem’s hand twitches, but Lem doesn’t pull away. Lem's sleeve smells like mud and smoke. It’s nice, Fero decides.

“Anything?” asks Lem.

Fero leans back a little, blinking up at Lem. “No. You smell nice though.”

Lem's cheeks flush a faint green. “Oh, I… thanks?”

Fero smiles, patting Lem's sleeve before he let go. “You're welcome.”

“We need to move faster,” calls Ephrim from some ways ahead of them.

Lem's blush deepens. The sight of it making something warm unfurl in Fero's chest, spreading all the way through his body, making him curl and uncurl his hands, as though they wanted to reach out and grab at Lem's sleeve again. Like something in his body remembered that expression on Lem, even if his mind hadn't gotten there yet.

That was a nice feeling too. He’s glad Lem was here.

Fero curls his fingers around Lem's sleeve again, and Lem looks down at him sharply.

“Can I… is this okay?” says Fero. “I don't know the way, and I don't want to get lost.”

“It's fine,” says Lem, “You just don't usually--it's fine.”

“Good,” says Fero firmly, tightening his grip in Lem’s sleeve.

He could feel his knuckles bump against the skin of Lem’s wrist as they walked, a physical reminder of Lem’s presence, as solid as his memories were not.

Lem makes sure to keep his pace slowed as they walked, keeping time with Fero. It did keep prompting occasional glares from Ephrim, who kept having to stop and wait for them to catch up, but he couldn’t very well leave Fero to walk alone. Fero’s pace was fast, but it had never been any match for Lem’s larger stride.

Add to that, Fero seemed more distracted than usual, twisting his head this way and that as they walked to look at their surroundings.

“Are you alright?”

Fero’s gaze snapps back to Lem. “What?”

Lem slows a little more. “I says are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m just, you know,” says Fero, waving a hand, “trying to see if anything reminds me of something, like how your song reminded me of something?”

“Oh,” says Lem. “Any luck?”

Fero shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, I don’t really have much to work with. These trees are nice, but they’re not the ones I remember and all the other things I can remember aren’t here, probably.”

“Like what?”

Fero shrugs. “Like a fire. Or the ocean.”

“The ocean?” says Lem.

“Yeah,” says Fero, “It’s like… it’s like I’m flying through the air really fast, and then I’m in the water, and everything feels…” He pauses. “Everything feels dangerous, but fun. Like, there’s a problem but there’s not really a problem, you know? And I think it’s the same place as this other memory, where I guess I’m doing some kind of fancy performance because there’s a big crowd, and that feels dangerous in an unfun way.”

“I...see,” says Lem.

Ocean water and then a performance, ocean water and then a performance, when would Fero have…. Oh no.

“I guess I’ll remember more if we go there,” says Fero, looking up at Lem.

“Ah,” says Lem awkwardly, “That might be a problem.”

Fero frowns. “Oh, is it like, really far away? I don’t mind travelling. At least, I don’t think I do. It seems okay right now.”

“It’s… not the travelling part that’s the issue,” says Lem, “I think what you might be remembering is when we, um, we travelled to Nacre, and it’s sort of… not there anymore.”

“Oh,” says Fero.

“Or,” continues Lem, “It’s there, but I don’t know that they’d let us back in.”

“Oh,” says Fero again, his eyes going a little wide. “Hey, Lem, are we criminals?”

“Um,” says Lem.

“It’s totally okay if we are,” says Fero, “I’m sure we have good reasons for it.”

“Would you two hurry up?” says Ephrim, “this is supposed to be an escape not a nature walk.”

“Right,” says Lem quickly, “Come on Fero.”

Lem picks up his pace, just enough to keep Fero too out of breath for further questions.

When Ephrim declares they can finally stop for the night, Fero immediately flops on the ground. Lem follows suit a little more slowly, lowering himself down onto the log next to Fero. Fero leans closer, so that his head is resting against Lem’s knees. They’re bony, and not really very comfortable, but they’re warm, and it’s Lem. Fero lets his eyes drift closed.

When he opens them again it’s much darker. There’s a fire burning low in front of him, Ephrim lying on the other side of it, asleep in his bedroll. He’s still resting against Lem, a draped a blanket over them both awkwardly. Fero wriggles a little, trying to sit up while keeping himself covered against the night air.

“Fero?” says Lem softly.

“Hi,” says Fero, “I guess I fell asleep.”

Lem hums. “It’s fine, you didn’t miss much. Just Ephrim telling me we’ll need to walk faster tomorrow and then menacingly getting the fire going.”

Fero looks at the fire. There’s the occasional streak of purple through the low flames, casting an odd glow in their small circle of light.

“I remember a fire,” says Fero.

“Oh?” says Lem.

“A big one,” says Fero.

People screaming, knocking into him as they ran past him. The sound of the roof overhead cracking in the heat. A flutter of panic in his chest, tangling his hand in Lem’s sleeve and running, pulling Lem along behind him.

“Is that why they won’t let us back into Nacre?” says Fero.

“No-oo,” says Lem slowly, “I think that’s probably… a different memory.”

“We were involved in two fires?” says Fero.

Lem shushes him, shooting Ephrim’s sleeping form a significant glance.

“So we can’t go back to the New Archives, and we can’t go back to Nacre, and also there’s a third place where we started a big fire,” says Fero.

“Well, listen,” says Lem, “those situations were-- I mean, they were complicated. And we didn’t start the fire. Not exactly.”

“But we were there,” says Fero. “We were involved.”

He can feel Lem’s muscles jumping under his cheek. He looks up, resting his chin on Lem’s thigh.

“Sort of,” says Lem, “We were really just trying to get out, and it sort of just… happened. Not anybody’s fault, really.”

Fero tilts his head to one side, considering. Lem has that twitchy look about him again, which makes Fero think that whatever happened was somebody’s fault. Lem avoids his gaze, looking deep into the fire. Fero doesn’t look away from Lem’s face, first to try and figure out some clue of what really happened, and then because, well, Lem looks quite pretty in the firelight. The odd purple light catches on Lem’s pale hair, making it almost shimmer, ethereal.

Lem himself, frowning down at Fero, which is how Fero realises he’s been tracing patterns absent-mindedly up Lem’s leg. He immediately withdraws his hands, ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Sorry,” mumbles Fero.

“It’s um, it’s fine,” says Lem, “it just-- tickled a little, that’s all.” He pauses. “Listen, you should probably try to get some more sleep. We have a fair way to walk again tomorrow and Ephrim-- we’ll probably need an early start.”

Fero nods, moving to lie down at Lem’s feet.

“Um,” says Lem, “You do have a, uh…”

He leans over, pulling out a small bedroll from Fero’s pack.

“Oh,” says Fero, blinking, “Yeah, of course. Um, thanks.”

It’s cold outside the warmth of Lem’s blanket. Fero bites his lip.

“Is it okay if I put it down here?” says Fero, laying the bedroll down close to where he’d been lying before.

Lem shrugs. “Sure.”

The bedroll feels cold compared to the warmth of lying against Lem. When Fero shuts his eyes, the crackle of the fire seems too close, too loud in his ears. He snaps his eyes open again, his hands balling into fists under the covers to stop himself from shaking.

“Hey, Lem?” says Fero.

Lem hums, peering down at him.

“Can you, um, can you whistle that song to me again?”

Lem smiles. “Of course.”

This time when Fero closes his eyes, Lem’s music drowns out any memories that might be fighting their way to the surface, leaving only the bobbing notes in Fero’s mind as he drifts into sleep.

Lem lets his song fade out slowly, checking that Fero is fully asleep before his stops. Maybe there was some kind of pattern magic in that song after all, some kind of minor halfling-soothing enchantment. That was the thing about the pattern, you never quite knew where it would turn up. Or what effect it would have when it did.

In his sleep, Fero makes a soft sound, rolling to face Lem. Lem cards his hand lightly through Fero’s hair, and Fero makes another soft sound, a more peaceful one, wriggling further into the blankets before he settles deeper into sleep. Lem smiles down at him for a moment before he turns his gaze back to the fire.

He can only hope the pattern is waiting for them in Rosemerrow, that Fero seeing a specific grouping of family members at specific time will jolt his memories out of wherever they’ve been locked away. Ephrim certainly seemed sure that it would work, something about halflings understanding other halflings better than orcs and humans would.

Perhaps that’s true for most halflings, but Fero is unlike any other halfling Lem has ever met, and Lem feels as though he… well, perhaps he doesn’t completely understand Fero, but he certainly feels as though he has a better handle on him than his family would have. There’s certainly no much they could tell him about Fero that he wouldn’t know after traveling with him for two years.

Even now that Fero doesn’t remember who he is apart from a song and a hand tangled in his sleeve, Lem still knows him. Or, he sort of does. It’s still jarring to have Fero look up at him with questions instead of that knowing look, the kind he could shoot Lem from across a room, as though he could tell Lem’s thoughts from just his tone of voice.

He’s gotten a bit too reliant on that. After all, back at the Archives there’d been days, even weeks of barely talking to anyone. It wasn’t as though he needed that look from someone across a room.

But he does miss it.

The forest changes as they get closer to the town, the trees less thick and the animals and birds quieter. It’s not that the forest seems less alive, or any less beautiful, but it does feel lonely somehow. The space between the trees makes Fero feel twitchy.

“Not much further now,” says Lem cheerfully.

Fero nods absently, his hand going to the fabric of Lem’s sleeve as he looks around. Lem slows his pace a little and Fero smiles up at him. He’s glad his body remembered doing this, even if his mind didn’t. It’s easy to see why his other self, the self from Before, would have done this.

Fero turns to look ahead of them and gasps. Something in his mind shudders.

“Fero?” says Lem.

Fero lets go of Lem’s sleeve, breaking into a run as he heads to the tall grouping of trees in front of them. He gently runs a hand along the red bark, letting out a slow breath as he looks up to the high branches above.

Lem touches him lightly on the shoulder. “Fero?”

“These are…. I remember these trees,” says Fero, wonderingly, “I remember them. They’re… I’d been walking for…. it felt like such a long time, and I saw them, and I knew, this was home, this was the way to home, I...”

There’s a deep ache in Fero’s chest that he’s not sure how to put into words, a strange rush of longing he’d felt when he’d seen them, and the certainty that he knew them. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

“I slept in their branches,” says Fero faintly, “How did I get all the way up there?”

“Maybe you flew,” says Ephrim.

Fero huffs a laugh, running his hand up and down the bark, letting the memory wash over him. There’s still nothing either side of it, but the memory of being here before is strong and clear -- the ache in his feet from walking, the rough bark under his palms as his pulled himself up and up and up, the soft sounds of birds in the distance, not the feeling of home but the feeling of almost home, the feeling that he was heading in the right direction.

“I felt like I could see the whole forest from the top of it,” says Fero quietly, “It went on forever.”

Lem clears his throat. “Maybe we should, um, stop here for the night? And see if it helps being around something Fero remembers?”

Ephrim sighs. “Fine.” He drops his pack by the tree, stretching his neck. “I’m going to check the area. Don’t go anywhere.”

Lem holds up his hands. He looks back down at Fero as Ephrim heads out, his fingers fidgeting with the straps of his pack.

“So,” says Lem, “You remember the trees.”

Fero looks up at Lem, grinning. “Yeah! I definitely, totally know these trees.”

Lem smiles, and Fero feels his grin get wider.

“So that’s two definite memories, you and the trees,” says Fero, “now all I have to do is fill in everything in-between that and I’m set!”

Lem’s smile fades a little. “Right.”

“No, see, it’s going to be fine,” says Fero, “I’ll just fit the other memories in the gap, there can’t possibly be that many.”

Lem’s expression is getting dangerously close to a Sad Frown, and Fero most definitely does not want that. He bites his lip.

“Maybe one of the things I remember is how I ended up in that room in the Archives?”

He’s guessing, but remembering something has cheered Lem up before. This time it only makes Lem frown and look tired. Fero’s hand itches to curl itself into Lem’s sleeve.

“No,” says Lem, “It’s not one of those.”

“Oh,” says Fero, “Then how--”

“Why don’t we set up camp properly?” says Lem quickly, “I’m sure when Ephrim gets back he’ll be tired, and anyway, it’ll be much nicer to set a fire before it gets too dark.”

Fero looks up at Lem, searching his expression for some clue as to the subject change, but Lem remained as mysterious to him as ever.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

Fero stole looks at Lem as they cleared space for the fire and set up the wood. They’re friends, and Lem knows him very well, enough to stay in his weird cave house, enough that Fero had made him a bed. They’d been in dangerous situations together, maybe even committing crimes. They were very close friends, Lem had said.

But also.

When Lem stood next to him, Fero’s body leant towards him without him thinking about it. When Fero felt unsteady he wanted to reach for Lem’s sleeve to ground himself in the light almost-touch of his hand. And when Lem smiled Fero’s chest felt all warm and squigly, and he wanted to make Lem do it again.

Fero might not remember much, but these didn’t feel entirely like platonic feelings (at least, he wasn’t stopping himself from reaching for Ephrim’s sleeve).

He nods along as Lem talks through the pattern he’s doing to make the fire and how they shouldn’t tell Ephrim because he has such a ridiculous bias against pattern magic, Fero, you wouldn’t believe it.

Maybe he’ll remember the reason for those feelings later.

Ephrim returns and then goes, returns and then goes. He tells them he’s doing patrols of the area, but Lem thinks he’s doing it to get away from them (although whether it’s anger at Lem or being weirded out by Fero’s lack of memories, Lem’s not sure).

Lem watches the fire, and tries not to flinch as Fero gives him a strange look out of the corner of his eye. He’s been doing it all afternoon. It makes Lem feel on edge.

“So,” says Fero suddenly, making Lem jump, “were we at the Archives committing a crime?”

“What?” says Lem, “We were-- no. We weren’t committing a crime.”

Fero tilts his head to one side. “Then how come I was being punished?”

Lem winces, a twisting feeling in his gut. “That was… it’s complicated.”

“That’s okay,” says Fero, “We’ve got time.”

Lem looks away, staring at the fire. The bright light of it hurts his eyes but he’d rather look there than Fero’s open, trusting face.

“We… I got in trouble when I left the Archives, and I… we were doing them a favour to undo the trouble, but when we went to finish the job, things got… we ended up somewhere we shouldn’t. We got seperated and.... I….”

Lem’s throat feels tight. It had seemed so easy, in the moment, just to leave Fero behind and believe that he’d be fine, that there’s be no consequences, because it was Fero and Fero always got himself and Lem out of trouble. And then the sinking feeling, heavy in his stomach, when there were consequences. When Fero was somewhere he’d never get out from, because no one ever got out. Lem swallows.

“I, uh… we didn't have time to go back for you,” says Lem. He can't make himself look over at Fero. “They would have got us too, and I… I'm sorry Fero.”

Fero puts one of his own small hands over Lem's. “Hey. You got me out, remember? And anyway, I don't remember it now, so it doesn't really matter.”

“It doesn't matter?” says Lem.

Fero shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, I don't remember it so who cares?”

“I care! Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it's not worth remembering! There's so much you--” Lem takes a deep breath. “Just because it's not remembered doesn't mean it didn't happen.”

Fero tilts his head. “Okay… I forgive you?”

“You don't even know what you're forgiving me for,” says Lem.

Fero pats Lem's hand. “It's a blanket forgiveness.”

Fero says it so lightly and easily, smiling up at Lem. Lem can still see the bruise along his neck. His stomach rolls and he looks away quickly, back down to his hands.

Lem swallows. “Thanks.”

Fero smiles wider. “No problem buddy.”

Lem's chest aches sharply at the words. Fero says it with the same light tone as always, but it isn’t the same. There’s something missing in the hesitance of his smile, no glint in his eye as he spoke, no teasing tone, no telling Lem strange legends about the places they passed (that Lem suspected Fero had mostly made up). He even misses the way Fero’s fingers would curl at his sides whenever Lem stepped over a line he hadn’t realised was there, the way he’d snap at Lem, absolutely unable to keep the silent treatment going for more than a quarter of a mile.

It isn’t even so much the specific things that he missed, it was the way Fero seemed to know him, when to reach out and tangle a hand in Lem’s sleeve to ground him and when to take a step back to give him room to breathe, when to whisper words of encouragement so only Lem could hear them.

His throat feels tight and he looks up at the tree, stretching into the darkness above them. Fero could remember the tree. Hopefully one day he’d be able to remember him. Hopefully it would be one day soon.

Fero’s foot twitches. He chews on his lower lip, studying Lem’s profile in the firelight. He feels like he can almost remember, it’s right there, in that spot that hurts to presses at in his mind. He almost, almost has it, so close, like it’s a faint scent on the wind or feeling the warmth of another person through a thick jacket.

Lem looks so sad, staring up into the familiar branches. Fero’s instinct whispers reach out and well, if he can’t rely on memory, all he’s got is the instincts. May as well trust it.

It feels like muscle memory, almost, to reach out and slot his fingers into Lem’s empty hand, and there’s a rush of feeling, so strong it takes his breath away for a moment, a rush of something new and a rush of old thoughts, a feeling that he’d thought about doing this a hundred times. Lem looks down at him slowly, blinking at him, and Fero tries to give him a reassuring smile.

It’s the easiest thing in the world to follow the rest of the instinct, to lean up and press his lips against Lem’s.

The kiss itself is chaste, a press of his bitten lips to Lem’s chapped ones. The warm feeling in his chest spread over him, and he leans in closer, because he always wants to lean in closer to Lem. Lem gasps, and puts a hand on Fero shoulder. His touch is gentle but it feels like a knife going it. Fero shudders under his touch, breaking away from the kiss and clutching at his head as the pain spreads. He slumps, and Lem catches him.

Fero squeezes his eyes shut, everything hurts so much and then-- darkness.

When he blinks awake it’s still dark, and Lem is leaning over him, a concerned look on his face. Fero recognises that look, although he hasn’t seen it directed at him very often, the last time was probably after they got out of the museum fire in Rosemerrow and -- holy shit he remembers that. Fero’s mind races, taking stock of bright memories that filled in the gaps.

The disaster that was their trip to Nacre? Yeah, he remembers that.

His cave home? Yep, made every piece of furniture in there himself with his own two hands.

Getting in trouble in the Archives? Absolutely, and really not that surprising.

Kissing Lem?

Fero lets out a long, slow breath.

Yep, he definitely does remember that.

“Fero?” says Lem. His voice had a strange tremor to it.

Fero swallows. “Hey. Hi. Hello.”

Lem’s breath hitches. “Fero, do you--”

“Yes,” says Fero, “I remember, I remember everything, even kissing you, which I’m really sorry about by the way, but I don’t think I should be held responsible for things I did when I didn’t remember anything.”

“Oh,” says Lem, frowning.

Fero blinks up at him. “Unless. Wait. Did you want me to do it again? Because I can totally do it again.”

“I, um,” says Lem.

Lem’s flushed cheeks look very pretty in the firelight. Fero pushes himself up, and Lem’s hands go to his shoulder, more like a gentle warm pressure than actual help. Fero appreciates the touch all the same, especially as it meant their faces were the same height. He leans towards Lem, and Lem leans in a little too, then stops.

“I-- what if it makes you lose your memories again?”

Fero puts a hand on Lem’s chest, toying with Lem’s beaded necklaces. “Then you’ll just have to kiss me again after that to give them back.”

Lem huffs a laugh, leaning further in.

This time there’s no painful headrush, no agonising throb in his shoulder, there’s only the familiar rush of warmth in his chest, and the thrill of the new warmth as Lem pulls him close. They were both breathing hard as they pull apart.

“Well?” says Lem.

“Yep, everything’s still there,” says Fero, “But you better do it one more time, just to be safe.”

“It’s important to be thorough,” says Lem.

Fero laughs, and leans in again.

#friends at the table #fatt #winter in hieron #fero feritas #lem king #lemfero #hey i wrote a thing #very light/brief descriptions of the torture fero experienced in canon #amnesia fic

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