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Chapter Text

Nothing was ever easy, but the Mr. Saturns were as helpful as always. Duster showed the others to the hot spring.

"It probably won't take long for them to make the... birdie thing." He still had no idea what they were talking about, but he trusted the little creatures to have something good in mind. Or at least, something interesting. "We might as well take their advice."

"It was a slog through that dumb volcano," Kumatora said, although something about her nonchalance seemed forced. When Phrygia had disappeared, there was a fragility in her eyes he'd never seen before, a loss that seemed far too personal. She and the Magypsy must have known each other somehow, or had met before, or... something. A look like that couldn't be anything else, he was sure of it.

He had no idea how to bring that up though. He was never good at finding the right times for conversation. Maybe he'd ask her about it later, when things calmed down a little. If Phrygia disappearing had hurt her somehow, he wanted to help.

They soaked in the hot water and Duster told them about how he'd found himself here at first, how he was sure that landing here was a sign. He almost mentioned the woman in red before he caught Lucas's eyes and decided against it.

Besides, maybe they already knew. They were psychic, after all, and something about the slight nod from Kumatora when he mentioned destiny made him think that it didn't need to be said.

Hinawa was still with them, in one way or another. If she was watching out for them, then surely things would be okay in the end.

Most of the Mr. Saturns seemed content to sit outside the spring and chat or birdie fish, although one had snuffled through Lucas's clothes when he'd gotten in and demanded to borrow that strange badge he got from his father. Much like Duster, it seemed like Lucas couldn't say no to the little creatures either.

Every now and then, a Mr. Saturn would hop into the water, where they'd bob for a few seconds, then paddle around with their stubby feet. They seemed naturally buoyant, which somehow didn't surprise Duster. One Mr. Saturn floated by and bumped into Lucas, who apologized and steadied them.

"Inside hot spring, but have coffee?" The Mr. Saturn twitched their whiskers.

Lucas looked to the others, and Kumatora shrugged. After a few seconds, Duster shrugged as well. Why not? Lucas turned back to the Mr. Saturn and nodded, and after Lucas let them go, they swam over to the edge of the spring, beckoning the others to follow. Three cups of coffee were lined up on the grass, like they knew they were going to say yes. The coffee pot beside them looked just like any other that Duster had seen in Tazmily... how did they pour it without arms or hands?

Well, it didn't matter. Sometimes mysteries were mysteries. They each took a cup and leaned back against the sides of the spring, taking quiet sips. It was strange, it didn't taste like any coffee Duster had ever had before...

---

You have endured a great deal.

We cannot decide the circumstances we are born to. Some people are born surrounded by love and affection, while others are born alone. Like a flower in dry earth, they survive through whatever means they can.

Duster. This is what you have done.

You were deprived of many things while you were growing up. You were always held at a distance, and you believed that you were meant to be alone. You believed that wanting affection wanted too much and it was best to hope for little. You believed these things because they helped you to survive when you had little else to support you.

But you are learning now that the world is not as you thought.

Slowly, you are realizing that it is possible to be loved by others. It is possible to be close to others without being afraid, to rely on others when you are weak, and you are learning that it is not bad to want these things.

In fact, these things will make you strong.

You have stood on your own for so long. You were told that no one would support you if you fell, but your friends will support you. They will give you the strength to stand taller than you ever have before. They will give you the strength to fall and know you can get back up again.

Trust in them. Allow them to catch you.

You've come a long way, and it hasn't been easy. It may not seem that way, but learning to survive without your heart growing cold takes great strength. You are stronger than you think.

You have been alone for a long time, Duster, but you aren't alone anymore. Whatever happens in the future, they will be there for you. Together, you can accomplish anything. Let their love give you strength.

Let their love make you thrive.

---

He could honestly say that he didn't expect to be plummeting to his death again in less than forty-eight hours, but here he was.

---

Later that day, after they'd choked up all the seawater and tried in vain to tell Rope Snake that it was okay that he'd dropped them again (well, Duster had been the only one trying to comfort him... Kumatora said she wanted to tie him in a series of complicated knots), he and Kumatora were sitting on the beach watching the sunset.

From what Phrygia had told them and what was written in their notebook (in the fanciest handwriting Duster had ever seen... it all ran together like water, and Kumatora had rolled her eyes and said that they all wrote like that, and it didn't occur to him to ask her why she knew that), the closest needle was across the ocean on Tanehineri Island.

Understandably, he and Lucas were not exactly excited about going there. Rumors about "Spooky Island" as Jonel had called it had run rampant in Tazmily for years. It was supposedly a place where nightmares came to life, where reality became undone, and where bad children were sent when they didn't behave. Or maybe that was just the version of the story Duster heard, but either way, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of going there. It didn't help that when they'd dragged themselves out of the ocean, Kumatora swearing colorfully the entire time, the sun was already beginning to set. Who wanted to go to Spooky Island at night? Much less swim across an entire ocean to get there in the dark...

So they discussed what they should do, and they decided it could wait until tomorrow. After all, they had just crashed into the ocean pretty hard, and he could still taste salt when he coughed. None of them were exactly excited to go back in the water just yet, and it was clear that getting over there was going to take a while.

As for the talk about nightmares and visions, Kumatora was not convinced, but she did admit that she'd never been there herself.

Tomorrow, they'd figure something out but for today, they could relax a little. Lucas at first had sat down beside Duster, staring off into the distance as he often did with that lost look, until Boney dropped his stick in his lap. After a bit of coaxing from the dog and Duster alike, Lucas got up and tossed the stick down the beach, and Boney chased after it with some loud barks.

When he brought it back, Lucas smiled a little and Boney wagged his tail, barked, dragged and goaded him along until the two of them were running and playing in the edge between water and sand. It was like Duster could actually see that heavy burden fall from his shoulders and for once, Lucas was just a normal young boy without a care in the world. He actually laughed, one of the only times Duster could remember him doing that, when he played tug-of-war with Boney over the stick, and he wished there was a way to preserve this moment forever.

Duster would have thought that Kumatora would get up to join Lucas, run around and tease and play with him as usual, but instead she stayed by his side, content to watch and occasionally call out encouragement. It was a little odd but maybe she was tired, he didn't know. He didn't mind her company, although he didn't really know how to say that. Maybe she knew already.

He just wanted to enjoy this while he had it. He'd seen "normal" while he was growing up in Tazmily, but he never had much chance to actually experience it. It was nice.

Kumatora's fingers brushed over his own in the sand, and before he could apologize and move away, she grabbed his hand. Just like her not to hesitate for a moment. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she pulled his hand up between them and turned it over so his palm was facing up.

"So where'd you get all these anyway?"

"Huh?"

"Back at the club, you asked me where you got all these scars." She raised an eyebrow at him, smirking as she traced over some of the lines across his skin with her fingers. "Well now you can remember, so where'd you get 'em?"

That's right, he had asked her that. Duster looked away, his face warming a little. "It's not very interesting..."

"Oh come on, now I'm really curious!" She tightened her grip on his hand. "There's no way you're gettin' outta this without tellin' me something!"

Duster thought it over, looked at their hands, then let out a soft sigh. She was probably right. He shifted in the sand to face her a little more directly and she eagerly moved to match him, holding onto him now with both hands and a wide grin. How could she be so excited for something that was so mundane? He outlined a discolored patch that ran along the base of his fingers to the edges of his wrist, and for some reason he found himself smiling a little.

"Well... this here I got when a thunder bomb exploded in my hand once. I was holding it too tightly... my dad even warned me not to, but I'd never held one before." He could still remember how furious Wes was back then when he'd wrapped up his hand, almost panicked about the possibility of him losing his fingers. Duster moved to a series of white marks that went across both the tops and bottoms of his first three right fingers. "I got bit by a wild boar here while I was trying to hypnotize it... and here too. And here." He shrugged. "It took me a while to get it right."

Some of these were so old, it was hard to remember. He pointed at a long line running diagonally from his index finger to the edge of his palm. "I think this one came from when I slipped and fell against this really sharp rock by the waterfall... Dad told me to be careful, but I wasn't paying attention." Then a ragged round edge near his thumb. "This one was when I went to grab a wall staple but it was facing the wrong way... they're pretty sharp." He turned his hand over, and ran his finger over another long scar across the back. "This one too, Dad was showing me how to pin down an enemy and when I tried to get free, I cut up my hand pretty bad... tore up my shirt too, he didn't like that." With a faint laugh. The other half-moon scars he waved off. "A lot of these are from bites like I said... I think this one was from a mole... and a craglizard got me here. And this one was from one of those bitey snakes... I was learning how to use the tickle feather, and... well."

He noticed the edge of one around his middle finger, and he turned his hand back over again. "Oh yeah, and this one... I was cleaning a fish for dinner and I slipped. My dad always said I was pretty clumsy... that's where this one came from too." To a line on the pad of his thumb. "And... this one." He pointed to a small puncture wound near the base of his hand. "I got that one from a fish hook... he told me so many times to be careful but..." He shrugged again. "They're a lot sharper than you think... it really hurt when he pulled it out. He made me wait until we caught something before we went home to get a bandage so I'd learn to be more careful next time." A moment, and with a faint laugh he pointed at another similar puncture wound near his pinky. "But it happened again anyway... he was so angry."

Kumatora had been awfully quiet, come to think of it. He looked up, and she was staring down at his hands with her brow furrowed, her mouth a thin line.

"Sorry... I told you it was boring." Duster rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "No wonder I couldn't remember any of it back then..."

She waited for a few seconds, then she lowered his hand, slowly entwining her fingers with his. He didn't have much chance to think about it before she pinned him with her gaze and spoke.

"Duster, do you want to go see your old man again?"

"Huh?" He blinked at her.

"You got your memory back now, and we're near Tazmily..." She kept eye contact with him, and she didn't let his fingers go. There was something familiar in her expression, how her eyebrows were drawn together, something like pity maybe around the edges. "We could go back and see Wes, if you want." And before Duster could say anything, she held up a hand. "If you want to. Do you?"

Duster stared at her and she shrugged, forcibly lightening her tone a little. "'Cause you don't have to if you don't want to. I bet that old geezer's fine without you, it's not a big deal. But it's your choice."

Something about this felt familiar, and he looked down at their joined hands. See Wes again? Some part of him did want to see him and make sure he was alright... ask what had happened to their house, what had happened to Tazmily while he was gone...

And yet, another reminded him that getting lost and losing the egg, putting everyone in jeopardy for years while he loafed around with some rock band without a care in the world, screwing up the one thing he'd been trained for years to do... Wes was probably going to be furious with him. He hadn't seemed angry before, but it was possible he was holding back until Duster could understand why he was angry. And why wouldn't he be angry? Duster had screwed up everything, he'd even come back to him with amnesia like he was taunting him.

He'd messed up many times before but never something this big. It was literally the entire purpose of his training and he'd messed it all up. Even if he still had the egg, he'd wasted three years and his house was gone and Tazmily had changed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was probably his fault somehow, and that Wes would definitely tell him how. He'd done nothing for those three years, he'd hidden behind a cloak of nothing, he'd remembered nothing when he'd seen him again, and he was going to pay for it. He was never too old to be punished.

Wes was going to be so angry with him. Years of experience told him that. He knew it, he was sure of it. He wouldn't feel this nervous about the prospect if he didn't. Duster looked away from her back to Lucas, who was still chasing Boney around the waves, completely carefree. His shoulders felt tense all of a sudden, and he tightened his grip on her hand.

"Oh, well..." He struggled to keep his voice light. "It's okay, we don't have to go see him right now... I'm sure he's fine. We've got a lot of things to do..." There was something prickling at the nape of his neck, like a fly, and scratched back there but that didn't make it stop. "Don't want to drag you guys along just to see my dad, you know... it's alright."

She squeezed his hand. "That's cool, I was just checking." With a strange warmth to her voice, and then she forced it back to its normal light tone. "Might as well ask, right?"

"Yeah..." And he forced the images of his previous mistakes, the lectures, the yelling, the smashed things, the insults out of his head, and tried to focus on just this moment. Just Lucas being happy, Boney being happy, Kumatora near him holding his hand. Look forward. Keep looking forward. "Thanks."

That prickling feeling, didn't that mean she was reading his mind? He meant to ask, but then Kumatora moved back to his side and leaned her head against his shoulder, and all of his thoughts immediately came to a screeching halt.

"Don't worry about it." Somehow he could hear her over the thudding of his heartbeat. "Just try and relax a little, huh?"

"R... right..."

People were always asking him to do impossible things.

---

In a way, he never left that island.

---

"Don't go anywhere else. Come home with me."

---

Inside the mailbox was absolutely nothing.

Nothing after nothing came pouring out.

---

"I'm gonna hit you, boy. Your father's gonna give you a beating."

---

He didn't think he'd ever sleep again.

He tossed and turned for hours, each time feeling guilty when he shifted for fear that he might disturb one of the others. They were struggling just as hard to sleep themselves, he was sure, and were having just as much success. Their breathing shifted and changed, caught every now and then in a way that didn't happen when they slept.

When they cried, yes, but not when they slept.

He didn't turn to look, he didn't ask, he didn't speak, he tried to stay quiet and draw into himself and disappear. Just... stop existing. Stop thinking.

He couldn't stop thinking.

Duster wasn't sure if what he'd seen was just for him, or if everyone had seen the same thing, if they'd all seen Wes call out to him, if they all heard what he'd said to him. He knew they saw him fall to his knees in tears though, which was probably the only important part.

No doubt the others were lost in their own thoughts about what had happened, their own visions, their own nightmares. He'd seen the terror and fury on their faces, he could hear half the conversation, see foggy indistinct figures - halfway real hallucinations that he still wasn't entirely sure were really there or if empathy just made him think they were there, made him think he could hear them. The things his friends had seen threatened them, yelled at them, blamed them, told them terrible things that they didn't want to hear. They were aggressive, frightening figures, violence apparent even before they'd lunged at their throats.

Of course, Duster had seen his share of those too, although his nightmares' aggression tended to manifest in other ways. He remembered perfectly how one of his visions had just stood there some distance away, arms crossed, and simply ordered him to come here. It just stood there and waited and they knew, they both knew, that he wouldn't have to come to Duster like some of the nightmares the others had seen. Duster would come to him. It didn't matter that he hadn't done anything wrong, it didn't matter how terrified he felt and how badly he wanted to run away, it didn't matter that he knew his father was going to hurt him, that he told him to come so he could hurt him. When he used that tone of voice, he listened. No matter what. It was burned as deeply into him as how to use his wall staples, and the others didn't understand. They'd shouted at him, pulled his arms, tried to block his way, told him that he didn't have to, he didn't have to do this, and they didn't understand.

They didn't understand.

But that wasn't what he was dwelling on. He found his thoughts returning, always returning, shifting past the Wes that repeated the same question louder and louder until he was shouting at him while Duster cowered, past the Wes who spoke with multiple voices at once in a hideous storm of echoes, past them to the first one that he had seen on the island. The Wes who held his arms out to him like he wanted to hold him, the Wes with a soft quality to his eyes, in his face, in his voice, who radiated compassion and regret and love for him. Who said he was sorry, who wanted him to come home.

Duster could hear him saying it over and over in his head, and he never would have thought that something so gentle, so tender, could tear his heart out so viciously. When that Wes had vanished, he felt tears rolling down his face and the others asked him what was wrong and he couldn't tell them. He couldn't even begin to explain, but did they know? They were psychic, didn't they know?

The thought made him feel sick, his throat thick and tight, his eyes burning, as he curled up tighter and tighter into himself. His friends saw horrible nightmares, hideous distortions of reality that couldn't be true, living threats of violence and hatred and fear, and here was Duster, here was Duster on Spooky Island, the land of unrelenting nightmares and terror, here was Duster and he saw his father apologizing for crippling him. His father loving him, that was the deepest scar on his heart, his weakest point. And he kept thinking about it, and he kept thinking about it, and he ran it over and over in his head, how vulnerable his father had looked, how honest, how sincere, how he'd beckoned for him to come to him without a threat behind it.

The others hated their visions, feared them, ran from them, and Duster was curled up in a miserable shivering ball in the dark hating himself because he wanted that Wes to be real. The other visions had abused him, yelled at him, hurt him and he was used to that, he was used to that. But the first had cut him deeply, cut him completely open in a way he could never have anticipated and in a way he had no defense against, and it was because of love. Open, honest, repentant love and it tore him to pieces far more effectively than the hallucinations that actually grew claws and ripped into him. It was worse because when he thought about how badly he wanted that to be real, it only emphasized over and over that it wasn't. His dad would never say something like that to him, his dad would never open his arms like that to him, his dad would never be sorry for what he'd done to him. It was impossible, a dream, a nightmare.

And normally he didn't think about that, he buried it deep down where he could ignore it, where he could tell himself it was fine, it was okay but now he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about how surreal and dreamlike and unnatural it was to see Wes like that. He couldn't stop thinking about how impossible it would be for his father to apologize for hurting him. For his father to love him, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and another tear slid by the bridge of his nose. It felt like it never stopped.

All their hallucinations had been cruel, and his worst had only been kind. He was so damaged that he saw a hallucination on the nightmare island that was actually better than his reality, and it scared him. It scared him and it made him feel sick and horrible and small and broken, he was broken inside, he'd told himself for years that he wasn't but he was broken and he didn't know how to tell them that. How could he even begin to explain something like that to them? He could barely weather the realization himself, what would they say? What would they think of him if they knew?

He wished that Wes could just... he wished that...

Endless loops and his head ached and he had to stop, he had to think about something else, find some way back. He couldn't keep doing this. The others...

He could feel Lucas against his back, and he knew Kumatora was beside him, and he reminded himself that, even when he'd been completely lost in his own delusions, he had known that they were real. Everything else on that terrible island had changed and altered, but they had not. Lucas and Kumatora and Boney stayed real, and didn't that mean something?

Maybe they had seen his nightmares while they were there, his problems and scars laid out right in front of their eyes; maybe they'd read his mind and found out that way; maybe they'd heard it in those broken sobs; he had no way of knowing but they did not leave him. They did not change and without them, he wouldn't have survived. They fought for him when he wanted to let Wes tear him to shreds, they dragged him when he refused to move, they shook and yelled at him when his mind stopped. They forced him to keep going when all he wanted to do was give up and when they were in danger, his mind cleared and he fought to protect them. As deep as his despair may have been, he did not abandon them either. They kept each other alive, they kept each other together.

They'd seen him at his worst, and they were still here. That meant something, didn't it? He knew it did, but he couldn't put it into words that made the sick spiraling feeling stop. There was no way to erase what he'd seen or what it meant.

He didn't know you could feel this terrible and not die, and in the midst of all the self-loathing, a thought occurred to him, sudden and bright.

He hadn't seen any of the DCMC on the island.

He hadn't seen OJ on the island.

Like a drowning man, Duster fixated on the thought. When he came to him so long ago and said he wanted to learn, when he took that first scary step down an unfamiliar path, when he'd trusted him not to hurt him, he'd wondered if he was making a mistake. He wondered if he'd get in trouble, he wondered if he was doing something wrong. And it had been embarrassing and frightening and at times all too intense and consuming but... he did not see him there.

And that meant it wasn't a mistake. What they'd done, what he'd learnt, the time they spent together, the feelings he had for him... hadn't hurt him. They did not wound him, and they did not twist out of shape to attack him.

If he could do something like that right, despite every circumstance of his life working against him, how broken could he be?

The wound that Tanehineri had torn open in him might not ever heal, but that thought at least was enough to let him sleep.

---

When they made it to Ionia's house, they gave her the jar of pickles, and she gave them the Waters of Time. They had to hurry, she said, there were only two needles left.

Kumatora asked if they could stay the night first.

While a little dubious at first, Ionia warmed up to the idea quickly. Although she seemed at peace with the quickly approaching end to her ancient life, just like Mixolydia and Phrygia, that didn't necessarily mean she wanted to rush it along. "That Time" may have been coming, but maybe it was coming tomorrow. Who could say? More so though, Ionia was delighted at the chance to spend some more time with her "dear little princess" before she had to go. Kumatora made a big show of finding the entire thing a nuisance even though she'd suggested it, although she wasn't fooling anyone.

Ionia didn't have an extra bed, but she did have an assortment of fluffy pillows and blankets in all sorts of shades; red, yellow, blue, orange, purple. Gifts from the others, she said, with a sad smile, and Duster felt terribly guilty.

They piled them onto the floor, Ionia fussing over arranging them by the right color and in the right places and chiding Duster at first for just tossing them wherever. He'd apologized, a bit sheepish, and while Ionia giggled behind one hand, telling him to stop being such a cutie-pie, Kumatora leaned over to him and whispered that she thought it looked better his way. Ionia poured them cups of a strange sour drink, he had no idea what it was, while they sat and talked about what had happened to them so far and what might happen to them in the future. Ionia was an avid listener and seemed interested in even his most boring stories, which made him feel a little awkward. People usually weren't interested in him.

Having lived so long, Ionia had stories of her own, and those were far more interesting. Duster really didn't know a lot about history; no one in the village had ever seemed to care that much about it for whatever reason. She volunteered to tell some of them if Kumatora let her brush her hair, and while Kumatora made a big show of refusing because who cared about girly crap like that, in the end she allowed her to do it. She had her arms crossed and the most petulant look on her face the entire time, but he got the feeling that secretly she didn't mind so much.

Ionia told them a little about the dragon before Kumatora groaned and said they already knew about that, can't we hear about something else? Ionia smiled and waved a hand, oh yes, that's right, before she decided to talk about the Osohe dynasty instead. The castle, as it turned out, had been there for centuries. She'd actually watched it get built even, although it took many years. There weren't many other people on the islands to fight with, so the castle was really a symbol of prestige more than an actual defensive stronghold. Still, wasn't it pretty though? Ionia thought it was just darling, and was always just a teensy bit disappointed that Aeolia's needle was closer to it than hers.

Lucas asked if they had to build around her needle, and Ionia nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course the humans knew not to disturb the needles. Everyone knew that. Besides, it wasn't like they could do anything to the needles anyway, and she gave Lucas a long look. Only very special people could pull them or even interact with them. That was just how they worked!

Back in the day, people lived in villages not unlike Tazmily before all this had happened, and they'd lived peacefully with each other just like they did. Their houses were smaller, not as well built although they still had a cute rustic charm, and they worked harder, and they didn't seem to live as long. It was hard for Ionia to remember the specifics of that - her concept of time was so vastly different from theirs. But humans were humans, she said, and humans didn't really change very much. In a way, humans and Magypsies weren't so different after all, were they? And she giggled.

Time passed as they listened to her stories, resting comfortably amidst the colorful spectrum of pillows and blankets. The road ahead was full of dangers they could only imagine, if the road stretching behind them was any indication, and these rare moments where they could sit and relax before the next trauma struck were precious. Night fell, and during a lull in one of Ionia's stories, Lucas had tugged on Duster's sleeve and asked, very softly, if he could sit in his lap. Duster of course had no problem with it, and after Ionia and Kumatora had a spirited discussion about the best use of PK Thunder (Ionia didn't want her to overexert herself) and whether or not she could add some ribbons to her hair (Kumatora said no), Duster noticed that Lucas had dozed off. He wasn't entirely surprised - Lucas spent so much of the day healing them, protecting them, heightening their abilities, or sending enemies flying. No wonder he was exhausted. Duster could easily remember how tired he felt when he was his age, and all he'd had to do was his thief training. Constantly using psychic abilities was probably even harder.

Normally he wouldn't have given his training a second thought, but now after everything that had happened, he felt a twinge of something like guilt when it came to mind. Maybe his life had been a huge mess, maybe he'd been damaged terribly by his upbringing in ways he was only beginning to understand, but he still wanted to help Lucas, no matter what. He wanted to protect him, and that wasn't a broken thing to want to do. Was it? He wanted to think it wasn't.

Maybe having a gentle heart could be a bad thing... it allowed them to get wounded more easily, him and Lucas alike. But it made him feel compassionate towards him, it made him want to help him, and that gave him purpose and it gave him strength, so it couldn't be all bad. Strength through gentleness... he could only imagine the look on his father's face if he tried to explain that.

Everything that had happened to him had led him here. That was what mattered, wasn't it? He was here, with friends who cared for him, and he cared for them in return... the scars on his hands and his heart didn't change that.

Well, it wouldn't do any good for Lucas to sleep sitting up either way. He shifted him a little so he could lower him down onto the blankets, and Lucas grabbed drowsily at his shoulders when he leaned away, mumbling something. He didn't want him to go, it seemed, and Duster knew how that felt. As a child he'd always slept downstairs alone.

How could he refuse? Ionia and Kumatora were lost in their own conversation, they wouldn't notice, and it wasn't as if Duster wasn't tired himself. He lay down beside him, and Lucas curled up in his arms like he wanted to hide there. Whatever made him happy. Made him feel safe...

He closed his eyes. The floor might not have been the most comfortable place to sleep, even with all the blankets and pillows, but he'd slept in more uncomfortable places before. He was always... well, he used to be good at sleeping.

Duster drifted off to vague, indistinct dreams, a menacing presence lurking underneath it all, the fear of their grand mission failing ever-present, and he wasn't sure how much time had passed before someone shook his shoulder.

"Hey, hey! You up?"

It was Kumatora, and he blinked and rubbed at one of his eyes. The lights were out; everyone else seemed to be asleep. "Mmph... what?"

"Can I talk to you?"

"Now...?"

He couldn't quite make her out in the darkness, but it seemed like she was looking across the room. "We won't have time later."

"Mm..." Well, if she wanted to talk to him, it was probably important. Lucas was in a deep sleep, Boney on top of his legs, and Duster slowly untangled himself from his arms and got up. He still felt groggy, but Kumatora took his hand soon enough and led him outside.

"This couldn't wait until morning...?" Still rubbing at his eyes.

"Tomorrow we got stuff to do. I dunno. I get this feelin' like it's our last chance." She pulled him over to the ladder that led to Ionia's house and sat down. After a few seconds, she stood up again and instead went to the rim of the crater surrounding the pink shell. "C'mon, come up here with me."

Duster yawned, but did as she asked. Climbing was a skill he'd acquired early and one that thankfully didn't require too much thought. When he turned to sit facing out towards the rest of the mountain valley, she cocked her head back towards the pink shell.

"No no, look this way. You gotta see this."

"Mm..."

He sat down beside her. The moon above was half-full, and it cast enough light to give the pink shell house a pearlescent shine, somewhat ethereal. In the water surrounding the house, he could see the countless stars reflected from above.

"'S pretty," he said.

"Yeah," Kumatora said, and she let out a long sigh. "I used to love comin' up here all the time."

It took a few seconds for him to try and work through what that meant. "...Did you come here a lot as a kid?"

"...Yeah, you could say that." She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her arms. "...Duster, what happened to your mom?"

"Huh?"

"Your mom, what happened to her? It's just you and your dad, isn't it?"

He stared down at the shining water, at his hands. "...Yeah, it's just us."

"What happened to her?"

"...I don't remember."

She looked at him, and he kept looking at the water.

"I don't... remember anything about her. I don't know what she looked like or anything. She died when I was really little... too little to remember, I guess." After a moment. "It's sort of like I just... never had one. I don't know what it'd be like to have a mom."

"I see..." she said, quietly. "I guess you wouldn't get it then."

"Get what?"

"I dunno... you know, dumb stuff like... losin' someone you care about." With that same petulant tone, and she turned her head away from him.

"What do you mean?"

"...Well, you know... the king of Osohe, he wasn't around much. I actually spent most of my time with them." And she cocked her head at the pink shell. "With the Magypsies. Ionia's... Ionia's more like my mom than my real one."

He blinked for a few seconds, processing this, and he reached out and touched her shoulder. "So that means..."

"Tomorrow, she's just gonna be gone," Kumatora said. "I mean, I spent my whole life thinking they'd never die or nothin', they always said they'd live forever, they were immortal, you know? They were all immortal so they'd always just be there, and I knew they'd always be around somewhere, you know, if I needed 'em... but now it turns out they're not. They're all gonna die. Tomorrow Ionia's gonna die."

He really had no idea what to say to that.

"It's all stupid." Kumatora's voice was tight, and he could see her hands balled up into fists. "This is all so dumb. I dunno who started this needle pulling bullshit but I want to make 'em sorry he was ever born. For makin' us do this, for makin' Lucas have to do this, for... makin' this happen. I'm gonna find that guy and I'm gonna kick his ass."

"Yeah." 'Cause that for sure he knew was true.

"And it sucks 'cause... I don't want to tell Lucas about it 'cause it's already hard enough on him as it is, you know... I mean, his moms got eaten by a dinosaur or whatever, if I tell him he's killin' all my parents too he's gonna... that'd be bullshit, I'm not doin' that." Her words were slurring more and more together, shaking a little with anger. "But it's like, I don't want 'em to just go without... tellin' someone, you know? They're more than just needle guardians or whatever, they were my family. They were my real family."

He had no idea. He hadn't even had a chance to meet most of them... they'd already pulled three needles before they even found him. "...I'm sorry."

"Ah, shut up. I don't wanna hear that." She buried her face in her arms. "Stupid mushy stuff, I don't wanna hear it."

Well, he had no idea what else to say then, so he just kept his hand on her shoulder.

"Tomorrow's gonna suck," she said, eventually. "But I guess... you'll know why. Don't tell Lucas, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm gonna miss Ionia... I can't believe she'll actually be gone." She looked up again at the pink shell house. "I always thought she'd be there forever..."

"Yeah..." Still at a loss. He had to say something. "She's... nice." That probably wasn't it.

They sat in silence for a bit.

"Can I ask you something?" When she looked at him, he stared down at his fingers. "Since you know a lot about Magypsies... I don't want to be rude to them or anything..."

"What?"

"Are they..." He already felt awkward asking, and he could feel her staring at him. "They're women, right? Since you keep calling Ionia a she..."

A moment, then Kumatora gave him a thin smile. "Heh. Well... I guess it's kinda complicated. Lotta people don't get it. They're both... or neither, or one or the other depending on how they feel." She shrugged. "Most of the time Ionia feels like a chick, so she's a chick. Locria usually feels like a dude, so he's a dude. It depends."

That didn't really make sense to him, but it could have been one of those things that he just never learned when he was growing up. Maybe this was common knowledge for other people and he'd just missed out again. Best to take her word for it. "So, they can... change?"

"Well, they're not human, you know? They don't work like we do." A moment of thought. "They like to... balance stuff. I dunno, it always made sense to me. It's not like humans can't do the same thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." And she uncurled herself a bit, smiling now, and she punched him lightly in the arm. "Take you for instance! You're probably one of the most sensitive dudes I ever met! You're all shy and nice and sweet and gentle, it's ridiculous."

He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be an insult or not, but she didn't give him a chance to reply. She pointed to herself, thumping her chest with one fist.

"And me, I'm one of the toughest chicks around! I'm rough and tough and can punch monsters straight to the moon! I like fighting and getting dirty and I'm not really into all the feelings junk or whatever, and there aren't a lot of chicks out there like me." A moment where her eyes softened. "I know, I looked. But... I think that's why..."

She trailed off and looked away, and he tilted his head at her a little.

"Why what?"

"I think that's why I... why I like be- I like hangin' out with you so much, you know?" And she looked back at him with that warm smile that he loved so much. "We go together... we're both balanced."

Silence as they stared at each other, and it felt like something was drawing him to her. Inch by inch they closed the gap between them, pulled together as if by a magnetic force, nearer and nearer and he remembered with this feeling, you were supposed to close your eyes... wait, didn't that mean they were about to...?

At the last second, she looped one arm around his neck and pulled him down into her lap, giving him a noogie. "Ha ha, look at you! See, you even fall for that romantic crap!"

"Agh-! Hey!"

"Ha ha, nerd!" She ruffled his hair before letting him go, and while he tried to regain his balance, she stood up before he could think of anything to say. "But that's what I like about ya, after all! C'mon, we should get some sleep!"

She jumped off of the rim of the crater and headed back inside without waiting for him to join her. He stared after her, blinking for a few seconds before his thoughts realigned.

Were they about to...?

No doubt Magic and Baccio and Shimmy would have teased him for not being more assertive, OJ would have shook his head and said Lucky, really, you need to know when to go for it, you can't always just wait, but he sat outside and stared at the shining shell and the stars on the water and the moon in the sky, and he couldn't stop smiling.

---

They left Leder's small room - his cell probably would have been more accurate - and headed back into the apartments. None of them said much of anything, the enormity of what he'd told them drowning out everything else.

Duster found he felt cheated, somewhere. Leder said his early memories were all a lie and it felt like that meant he should have gotten the real ones back, but he hadn't. It was always just him and Wes in their little house on the east side of Tazmily. He was born there, he'd lived his whole life there, and that must have been a lie, all of it just part of a big story, but still the memories remained just as solid and unmoving as before. They were lies but they were real. How was he supposed to reconcile this?

If life was fair, having lost his memory a second time should have given him more experience with dealing with something like this, but it didn't.

Lucas stumbled a little ways into the hallway, and Duster came over to his side, kneeled down and rested a hand on his shoulder. Lucas's face crumpled, and he buried his face in his neck and Duster wrapped his arms around him and picked him up.

When he'd seen Lucas back at Club Titiboo, he'd thought that the boy carried too much on his shoulders. It paled in comparison to the burden he bore now. It would have been strange if Lucas wasn't frightened, if he wasn't overwhelmed by the reality of his world, by the enormous task that faced them in the future, or rather... faced him in the future. When it came down to it, they could help Lucas all they could, but pulling the needle was a task only he could do.

They could only carry him so far.

He didn't want to go back into the sewers until Lucas calmed down a little, so they lingered in the apartment building, taking their time heading back downstairs. Boney stayed close by his side, whimpering every now and then, and Lucas sniffled and kept his grip tight around his shoulders. It wasn't easy to walk while carrying a child, but he'd done much harder things. He didn't mind, and Lucas didn't seem to mind his uneven gait either.

It still had trouble sinking in. How much of his life was a lie? Was Wes even his real father? It had been decided so long ago that they were responsible for the egg, that they'd be set aside for that purpose... had he agreed to it back then? Had Wes agreed to it for them?

Even their relationship to the nonexistent royal family had been preordained... the princess's designated retainers, no wonder Wes had always been so fond of her, why he was so glad to see her again when they were reunited in Osohe castle and Duster had met her for the first time. The truth filled in some holes in his life but created so many others. He didn't even know where to begin sorting it all out.

Was that why he couldn't remember his mother? What really happened?

Kumatora hadn't said much, but after a while, she looked through a window they passed by that led to a brick wall, then she turned and looked at him.

"Hey, do you know what this means?" She was grinning, like this was all a joke and she expected a similar answer.

"That I've lost my memory twice?"

"No." Her eyes shone. "You were always meant to be my escort."

A moment where he stared at her, blinking, and her smile widened.

"It means we were meant to be together. "

---

There were rumors about a concert floating around as they entered the Empire Pokey Building. He didn't want to get his hopes up - he still remembered how badly it stung when they'd finally come back to Club Titiboo after their trip to Tanehineri and found the place abandoned. This entire city was one badly thought-out fantasy, populated with strange, often incoherent people; how could he trust what anyone said here?

Still, Leder had said that everyone was being gathered to New Pork, and with every passing minute the crowds only got larger and larger, the streets clogged with more and more bystanders. He'd never seen so many people in one place. If everyone was being gathered here... where else could they be but here?

Duster told himself not to get distracted. The elevator technician told them that they could only go to the 27th floor, which incidentally was the same floor as the concert hall. He caught Lucas and Kumatora looking at him every now and then, eyebrows raised, but he tried to put it from his mind. More important things to think about. Don't get your hopes up.

Were they all alright...?

Trust in destiny, Shimmy had said. Duster stared at the walls around them as the elevator went up, watched the metal bars that must have designated the floors rise and vanish, let the rhythm of it ease away any other thoughts in his head until he noticed that Kumatora had turned around beside him. When he turned around himself, humming a question, he found the elevator attendant staring at him with stars in his eyes.

"Are... aren't you Lucky?"

It all went by in a blur, his mind perhaps not willing or able to fully comprehend what was happening, what was going to happen as he was ushered along by an excited fan, saw people clamoring in the entry hall for the show, saw the same huge, hulking Pigmask that had been a regular feature back in the day at the club.

Not until they went through the doors and entered the theater did it become real.

He was supervising the setup of the stage as always, and it was so familiar that it made Duster's heart jump into his throat. He had his back to them, completely unaware of their presence as he pointed at the lights to the left, told the techie to adjust them a little, tapped his foot and rested a hand on his hip in thought.

Duster would have thought that motion would be beyond him, since coherent thought certainly was, but somehow he was walking towards him. It took a few seconds, but he must have heard their footsteps - he turned around with a you're not allowed to be in here look on his face and when the realization hit, he'd never seen OJ look so surprised in his entire life. He staggered back with a loud gasp, nearly falling, and Duster's eyes were stinging for some reason.

"Lucky...!" OJ breathed before he managed to regain his composure, and a wide smile broke out over his face. He was blinking a little fast, breathing a little hard as he closed the distance between them, and if Duster had never seen him so sad as when he'd left, he'd never seen him so happy as when he'd come back. OJ stopped just a few steps away although it was obvious that he wanted to come closer; he hadn't completely forgotten where he was just yet. Instead, he wavered on his feet for a second, struggled for his normal nonchalance but couldn't stop laughing through his words. "Long time no see, you bum!"

Duster wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone brought to the edge of tears from joy before, but it must have looked something like this.

"Is that Lucky?!" What sounded like Magic's voice came from the stage behind them, and OJ looked back and laughed, moving a little out of the way. It was definitely Magic, and when he got a clearer look at Duster, he immediately dropped everything and ran for the edge of the stage. He jumped off, arms raised, landing on one foot at first in the picture of elegance until he kept going and crashed into one of the tables set up nearby. It didn't slow him at all - he scrambled to his feet and kept running straight for Duster like his life depended on it, and he barreled into him so hard that it nearly took his breath away. Magic crushed his arms to his sides as he swept him up in a bruising hug, spinning him around and around. "Lucky!! I've missed you so much!! Guys, Lucky's back! Lucky's back!"

He could hear OJ and Lucas and Kumatora laughing, and he knew he was himself but he couldn't hear it through all the excited noise. When Magic set him down he felt a little dizzy, he wasn't sure if it was from being spun around or from just feeling this happy, but Baccio and Shimmy were there beside him, steadying hands on his shoulders, voices bright and familiar.

"Long time no see, man!" Shimmy said, a huge smile through his words and with a grand gesture to the ceiling. "We had some pretty okay concerts since you left, but now that you're back it's gonna be like... wow!" And he shook Duster's shoulder, the slightest tremor through his hand.

"It's good to see you again, Lucky!" Baccio took his hand, curled his fingers and bumped fists with him in their usual group handshake, then couldn't contain himself and pulled Duster into a quick hug with a pat on the back before pulling away from him again. "How've you been?"

Duster never knew you could feel so happy that your heart felt like it was going to burst in your chest. It was all he could do to find words and not just stare at them with a stupid grin on his face. "I'm... I'm good, I'm good. How are you...?" What a ridiculous thing to say. There was no way to do this feeling justice.

"We're great as long as you're here!" Magic nearly shouted as he pumped his fist, and OJ was smiling at Duster in a way that made everything else in the world seem far away.

"We should've known you'd be here, Lucky!" Shimmy said as he brushed some stray dreadlocks from his face. His movements were quick, imprecise, as excited as his tone. "Every living thing on this island's been gathered here." And he paused, the reality of what he was saying sinking in. "Some great, undefiable power's preparing a festival for the end of all life..."

Right. That. For some reason, it was hard to remember or think about it at all at the moment. Baccio put a hand to his chin, a thoughtful pose so familiar that Duster felt his eyes stinging again.

"We can see through this Pokey guy's stupid plans no problem. He can't fool us." And Baccio smiled at Duster, that wonderful sure smile that said that everything was under control. "Why's that, you ask?" He tilted his head, his smile widening as he clenched one resolute fist. "'Cause we're so drunk on our music that he can't fool us with his nonsensical crap!"

"Yeah!" Magic shouted, and gave Baccio a spirited high five. He whirled back to face Duster, completely breathless. "I dunno who this Pokey guy is, but with all five DCMC members back together, nothing can scare us now!" And he paused for a second, blinking and it was like Duster could see the thought strike him, and Magic looked at the ground, brow furrowed in thought. "Well, maybe if I think about it really hard, MAYBE I can think of something that can scare us-" And he shook his head, back to his excited laughter. "But no, nothing can scare us now!" Energy just overflowing from him, and again he swept Duster up in a bonecrushing hug. "Man, it is so good to SEE you, Lucky!"

"It's good to see you too," Duster managed through his laughter after Magic let him go, and he pressed a hand to his chest to try and calm his pounding heart. "I missed you guys..."

"You got to tell us all about what you've been up to!" Shimmy said, his hands on Duster's shoulders, holding him out at arms-length like he was studying him. "You get your memory back? You find that egg you were lookin' for?"

"Hey, did you guys take good care of him?" Magic suddenly leaned over Duster's shoulder, pointing at Lucas and Kumatora. "He didn't cause you too much trouble, did he?"

Sudden pounding on the door behind them interrupted the conversation, excited shouts from the other side, and Baccio looked at his wrist.

"It might have to wait until after the concert... we don't got much time 'til we gotta blow this place out of the water."

A moment of silence as Baccio met eyes with OJ, who nodded, and then their band leader, his leader, looked back to Duster. His eyes, his smile were so warm, and he held a hand out to him.

"Hey, Lucky." Like there was no one else in the world but him, and he wanted to drown in that feeling. Each word given weight and time, his voice steady and irresistible. "Let's forget our worries and just enjoy the music like the old days, huh?"

With everything ahead that faced him, with his lost friends found and smiling and happy around him, there was nothing in the world that he wanted to do more. Maybe OJ could see it in his face, and he smirked at him in that old knowing way. "We even have your afro wig all ready to go."

They kept it, after all this time? He found his hand raising to press against his chest again, and OJ kept smiling at him, eyebrows raised, and he could see the others also waiting for his answer, eager to get started, to rewind it all to how it used to be. It took real effort for him to look away, to remind himself that he had a greater responsibility to think of. This was really Lucas's decision - after all they had something important they were doing... if Lucas wanted them to keep going instead of waiting for Duster to finish a concert with his friends, then...

"What do you guys think...?" Duster turned around to face them, and he felt a little breathless still, his heart loud beneath his fingers.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting from the three of them, but Lucas was standing with his hands behind his back, smiling at him nostalgically, and Boney panted by his side with his usual happy grin. Kumatora had one hand in her pocket, and she waved the other like she was shooing Duster away.

"Go ahead, have fun," Kumatora said, with a fond smile, and Lucas nodded.

"Yes! Tondagossa!" Barely given any time to think about it before Magic grabbed his arm and began dragging him towards the stage. "C'mon, you gotta get ready!"

"We got your bass all shined up and ready to go!" Baccio said from his other side, and they'd swept him up and it was hard to think about anything else, their enthusiasm infectious. He couldn't believe he was about to play a show with them again - it felt like it had been ages since his last one. Could he still do it? It hadn't been that long, had it? He wasn't going to have time to practice-

They pulled him backstage, and Baccio and OJ broke off from the group, saying they had a few other things out front to take care of ("Have to fix that table you broke," Baccio gave Magic a look, who shrugged and feigned ignorance), and it was all happening so quickly that he didn't have a chance to say he'd see them later. Magic didn't slow for a second, dragging him along until they stopped by a closed door.

"Here, you can get changed in here!" Magic waved at the door with an all too elaborate flourish before he nearly jumped in excitement. "Man, this is gonna be AWESOME!"

He darted off, his task completed or just too wound up to stand still for long, and Duster stared after him with a smile. Magic had always been a bit excitable, but he'd never seen him like this before. It was strange to think it was because of him, because they cared about him, and his heart always swelled in his chest at the thought.

"Hey, real quick?" Shimmy tugged at his arm, and Duster blinked and shook himself out of his reverie.

"Hm- Yeah?"

That same somewhat sober mood had come over Shimmy now, his smile faded and his voice low, not quite a whisper. "If you get the chance, you should talk to OJ, alright?"

Duster tilted his head slightly, eyebrow raised, and glanced back at the stage, although he couldn't see OJ from where he was. Somehow the gesture of looking where he might have been seemed important. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nah, just..." He frowned and looked around for a second, beads clacking as he scratched his head. Back to Duster with a shrug, like it wasn't a big deal, but he still had that oddly serious tone in his voice. "I get the feeling he wants to talk to you, you dig? He was pretty broken up when you left." And Shimmy let him go, moving away a little like he wanted the conversation to end quickly. "Better do it while you got the chance, if you get me."

Something about this made him feel a little ill-at-ease, suddenly on unfamiliar ground when he should have been quite confident, and maybe Shimmy felt the same way as he kept moving away from him, barely waiting for a response. It wasn't like Shimmy was telling him to do something he didn't intend on doing anyway, but still, he felt weirdly caught off-guard. This was supposed to be simple, old times, nothing complicated; Duster shoved it from his mind and shrugged instead, trying to keep his tone as light as he felt like it should be. "Yeah, alright."

"Great!" Shimmy smiled in apparent relief. "See you in a few!" And he was off.

Duster stood there for a few seconds, wondering what he should do now, before he remembered the door Magic had pointed out. That's right, he was supposed to get changed; he couldn't go out on stage in his normal clothes. He wasn't about to make a spectacle of himself during their reunion concert, after all.

The changing room was small - a rack of clothes against the wall, a mirror with a counter beneath it, a few boxes here and there with various sleeves poking out of them. His wig was sitting on the counter, and he could see a familiar pink suit hanging amidst the other clothing. He pulled it from the rack, draped it across his arms, and he was smiling again and he couldn't help himself. This was his suit... they'd kept his suit. They'd kept all of it. Even though they might not have ever met again, they'd hung onto it. Did they know this would happen, or did they just hope this day would come? OJ had certainly looked shocked when he'd seen him; he couldn't have predicted this... could he? Was it his idea to keep his things, even if they thought he'd never come back?

Why was Shimmy so interested in him and OJ talking? Maybe OJ had something important to tell him...

It still fit him perfectly. Duster straightened his lapels in the mirror, adjusted his tie, brushed off his sleeves. It was strange to see himself in smart, clean clothes again. His normal outfit may have been practical, but it wasn't exactly fashionable.

On a whim, he straightened his left leg and tried to keep his shoulders even as he stared at himself in the mirror. He didn't look completely bad, he thought, sort of dignified. He couldn't hold the pose for long though, his left leg starting to ache, so he let it go and leaned to one side again. There, that was more typical for him.

He sat down so he could put on his wig, and once the entire ensemble was together, Lucky stared at him from behind the mirror. He reached out and touched his reflection beneath his eyes... he didn't remember the circles being this deep before. Did he always look this tired? He felt older, somehow. Well, he had been through a lot.

"Hey, you ready to go?" And Duster jumped, whirling towards the door and if he hadn't been sitting down, he might have kicked a hole in the wall behind him. It was only OJ of course, leaning against the door frame of the room with his hands in his pockets, laughing a little. "Heh, you still get that look."

"OJ..." And Duster sighed in relief, a hand to his chest. He hated it when things snuck up on him; it always took ages for his heart to calm down. "You surprised me..."

"Well, that's never been that hard to do," OJ said with a casual shrug and a smile, and he shut the door behind him as he came into the room properly. "You doing alright, Lucky?" As he came over to where Duster was sitting. He leaned back beside him against the counter beneath the mirror, and for a moment his confident aura faltered as something occurred to him. "Oh, right... it's Duster, isn't it?"

It didn't sound right coming from him. "...You can still call me Lucky if you want." He looked up at him with a smile, and OJ blinked, eyebrows raised.

"Like that name, huh?" Smooth as always, and he pointed at him. "I knew it suited you. You're a lucky guy."

"Yeah..." Quietly, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. OJ might have had a bit of a shadow beneath his eyes, might have looked just a little older, but he was still just the same as ever. He still smiled so easily, he still radiated confidence and poise in a way that made everything feel okay. Like nothing had changed, like no time had passed since he'd left the club so long ago.

It was hard to believe that he was in a race against time to find the needle before the end of the world. It was hard to believe this might be the last time he'd ever see him, the last moments they'd ever spend together. Duster looked down at the counter, and OJ began talking, easily filling the silence.

"I was thinking, we should open with the DCMC Theme, you remember?" And he grinned at Duster, giving him a thumbs up. "Really, we should call it Lucky's Theme, that was all you, baby. Then I thought we could go right into Samba de Combo - if we've finally got our bassist back after all this time, we should let you shine, you know? Then-"

"Thank you."

OJ paused, unaccustomed to being interrupted, and rested his hand on the counter beside Duster's. When side by side, he couldn't help but compare them - OJ's skin was still smooth and unbroken compared to his own.

They came from such different worlds.

"Thanks for what?"

"Thank you for everything," Duster said softly.

OJ tilted his head, waiting, and Duster let out a long sigh.

"I really didn't know anything when you found me... you were right." Slow and quiet, his eyes nearly closed. He wished he had more time to plan what he was going to say... this had all happened so suddenly and this was important. Still, it was difficult to say, some deep part of him still so resistant to admitting ignorance. He'd been told for so much of his life that he was an idiot... it still hurt, no matter how many times he heard it or thought it. A familiar sting every time it proved to be true. "I'd never done anything like that before... I wasn't allowed to." He saw, out of the corner of his eye, OJ's hand twitch, but he didn't say anything. "That's why... you had to teach me so much. And I wanted to thank you."

Silence for a few seconds, and Duster looked up to meet his eyes.

"I'm very lucky."

OJ blinked at him a few times, then looked away with a slightly uneven smile and a quiet laugh. It was the first time he'd ever seen him look awkward. He had an air of forced nonchalance that was familiar. "Ah, you know..." A few seconds for him to get his thoughts back in order, and he gave him a sidelong glance. "It was my pleasure." He waited for Duster to redden slightly before he looked down, his smile fading.

"Besides..." The playful air was gone, something more sincere, maybe a little melancholy taking its place. "There aren't a lot of guys out there like you and me."

His fingers brushed against Duster's, and it wasn't too hard to catch his meaning. Not a lot of guys who were into guys, and come to think of it, Duster couldn't recall seeing... any, except the man beside him now. How lonely must that have been? "Couldn't just leave you high and dry, could I?"

Duster wasn't sure what to say to that, so instead, he crept his fingers forward and curled them around OJ's, and for a few seconds they stayed that way, in silence.

"You know, Shimmy was right about the festival..." OJ said eventually. "You know much about this Pokey guy?"

The interloper, Leder had called him. "Yeah... a little."

"So, you know what he's up to then. Right?"

"...Yeah." With a bit of a sigh. "He's trying to destroy the world."

A moment, and OJ shrugged. "Yup, that's what we thought. So... what are you going to do?"

Duster blinked, not the question he'd expected, and raised his head. OJ looked at him sidelong with a faint, halfhearted smile.

"It's the party at the end of the world..." And while his smile got wider, his eyes only got sadder somehow. "Want to spend it rockin' out with us?"

With me, was that what he meant? His first temptation was to say yes, but he knew it was impossible the minute it crossed his mind. Everything depended on him... depended on him helping Lucas. He couldn't, he wouldn't abandon his responsibilities, as much as he might have wanted to stay with him...

Something about this felt familiar, and that look in OJ's eyes... he'd seen it before. When was it...? Duster looked down, and it was a little difficult to speak. "...I can't."

They both had to know that that would be his answer, surely OJ must have expected that response, but the upbeat tone in his reply sounded a little forced. "Why not? Where else you gotta be?"

Where to even start? He wasn't good at this talking thing, why couldn't OJ just... know what he'd been through, what they had to do? How could he explain this?

"Do you know how Pokey's planning to destroy the world?"

OJ blinked, eyebrows raised. "Do you?"

"Yeah." A moment and he looked to one side, trying to organize his thoughts. When he ran over the story in his head, it sounded just as ridiculous as Violet's had so long ago. No wonder she'd always been so frustrated by his skepticism. When did reality get so... unreal? "...You'll believe me, right?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you lie about anything." With a more genuine smile, and he squeezed his hand. "Hit me."

"Well..." The more he thought about it, the sillier it sounded. When he'd heard it from the Magypsies, from Leder, from Lucas, he'd never thought to question it but now that he had to repeat it himself... it was hard to believe that what he was saying was true. Someone else should be saying this, someone with real authority. Maybe if he just got it out as quickly as possible... "There's a big dragon under the islands... and there are seven needles stuck in the ground keeping it asleep. Pokey's been pulling them out to try and wake it up so it can destroy everything... or, well, not Pokey, he can't, actually... only certain people can." Already he was messing this up, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't even look at OJ to gauge his reaction, he felt so awkward. "So, he has someone pulling them out for him. But, Lucas can pull them out too. Actually, Lucas is the only one- one of the only ones who can. And we've pulled three and he's pulled three, and it all depends on Lucas pulling the last one before he does or else everyone's going to die."

There was a pause, and he felt his face itching and he wished he was better at this. This was important but he wasn't telling it right at all.

"Okay," OJ said, carefully neutral. "So...?"

Encouraging him to go on? Duster winced slightly to himself at the thought of continuing, but dug up the words somehow regardless. "So... we're trying to get to the hundredth floor so we can..." And the danger of their ultimate goal suddenly seemed more apparent than ever, and he hesitated. "So we can stop Pokey."

"How?"

He didn't really know exactly, but he had a feeling about what it'd come down to. "We'll fight him, if we have to."

"You're going to fight Pokey?" And he spoke a little faster, a bit of an edge to his voice now.

"Not just me, but all of us... me and Ku- Violet and Boney- uh, Boney's the dog, but- all of us, we're all going to help Lucas get to the needle. No matter what, we have to get to the needle first. So, that's why... that's why I can't stay. I have to help him get there. He needs me."

A moment, and OJ's grip tightened on his hand. "Lucky, you sure you know what you're doing? This Pokey guy, he doesn't mess around. If he sticks you in one of those Nice Person things..."

He didn't know what that was, but it didn't matter. Duster shook his head. "We have to try. Lucas is the only one who can do it. I have to try."

"But..." OJ stopped, then sighed. "You're gonna do this no matter what, right?"

"If we don't..." He couldn't put it into words. "I have to help him."

A faint sound, not ready to give up just yet. "...Are you sure you can do something like this? You're a bassist..."

Silence for a few long seconds, and Duster lowered his head, words weighed down to a near whisper. After all the time they'd spent discussing it, all the reassurances... they'd been so sure he was too good a person to be what he really was. Too good a person for all these scars. "I'm a thief."

OJ was quiet for a while, considering this, and he wondered if he was disappointed, or if he already knew. He rubbed the side of Duster's hand with his thumb, a small gesture that only grew bigger in the silence. "So, she was right all along, huh?" A little distant, with no surprise and a faint softer edge.

"My whole life, I've been training to be a thief... maybe even training to do this." Or at least, getting the egg, but surely the skills were broad enough to apply. Everything that had been hammered into him, it all had a purpose after all. "It's hard to explain but, I can fight, I can... help them fight, I know how. I was meant to, this whole time, this is what I was meant to do. I can do this... I have to do this. Otherwise it's all for nothing."

He didn't like how his voice sounded; he needed strength, not that stubborn quaver of doubt. Who was he trying to convince? It was hard to look over and see what OJ thought, and he found him studying him or his words, it was hard to tell, with his usual thoughtful expression. Duster was about to try and rephrase or start again, sure that he must have said it wrong, when OJ gave him a faint smile that struck him silent.

"A thief, huh... you sound more like some kinda hero."

He'd never thought of himself that way, and on some deep level it didn't sound right, but technically... wasn't it sort of true? It took effort for him to even think along those lines. A hero? Him? He may have been struggling against terrible odds to save the world, but a hero? "I guess..."

OJ laughed a little, fondly, and he stroked the side of his hand again. "You still say that a lot."

A flood of memories at that familiar teasing tone, and he shut his eyes, another rising tangle of emotions leaving him at a loss for words. Duster wanted to say something else, felt like he should be saying something, but he couldn't put it together in his head. Why couldn't he think straight? He thought that after he got his memory back, he would stop feeling like an imposter in his own life, yet now he felt like someone else should be sitting here with their hand in OJ's; someone who knew what to say and how they were feeling and how to put it into words that made sense and sounded right. Someone who didn't just sit in silence and stare at their entwined fingers and feel... warm. Why was that the only thing that he could think of? There was so much more to it, but that was the only word that stuck. Did other people feel like this, or was this just another way he was constantly behind?

His hand felt so nice in his.

"If that's really what you're gonna do..." OJ said, his voice soft. "Then we're with you all the way."

He'd heard that before, somewhere, and he blinked and looked at him. There was that look on OJ's face he remembered that day when he'd left, resigned acceptance of a terrible burden - he was still here with him, they were still together but his face already spoke of such loss, and more than anything he just wanted to make it stop. He wasn't sure how much more of it his heart could take.

Duster had to say something. He had to tell him. He didn't have a chance then, but he did now, and it figured that words were just as hard to find as ever. How do you tell someone hey, I was on an island that created nightmare visions of people I love that tortured me but you weren't there and that means something I think? He didn't even know where to start.

This might be his last chance. He knew who he was, no lost memories hid anything, no one else was here. He had to say it.

"We might not ever see each other again..."

"Well, if-"

"So, if we don't..."

"Lucky-"

"So if we don't," and Duster shut his eyes tightly, his hand shaking a little. "So if we don't, you should know that-"

"Lucky-"

"Know that I..."

He thought he'd interrupt again, but he stayed quiet.

"...I love you." The first time he'd ever said it. So many of his firsts were with him.

"Aw, Lucky..." That sort of awkward tone from before, and- no, it was... Duster blinked, that was embarrassment in his voice. He opened his eyes, and OJ was looking away at the other wall, his free hand on the back of his neck. "Don't say something like that, we still got a show to do, you're going to mess me all up inside right before I got to go on stage..." Mumbling, rambling maybe, even.

"If I can't do it, if we fail, I just... I wanted you to know."

"C'mon, it'll be fine." OJ still didn't turn to face him. He'd never seen him like this before. There was effort behind his falsely casual tone. "No need for all this gloom 'n doom, it'll work out. You gotta trust in destiny, right? And destiny isn't about to kill everyone off, that'd be a terrible way to go. It's not gonna happen."

"...I wanted you to know."

"Lucky..." He took a deep breath, his grip on his hand tightening, and in the pause Duster looked down at the counter, death now hanging stiflingly close over them both. This was it... this was really it, and the weight of it, the potential failure, left all other thoughts immobile. OJ turned to face him, considering, remembering, before he reached out and lifted Duster's chin so he had to look him in the eyes. "Listen. You're going to do great. Don't worry. We're all going to be fine. You can do it."

It was the same thing he'd said before his first show with them, when Duster had been terrified that he was going to mess up on stage.

"Hey, didn't I say we were supposed to just think about the music?" With a shaky attempt at his normal bravado that made his heart ache. "You go out there like this and everyone out there's gonna end up bawlin', you don't want that right? If it's gonna be our last show, we gotta make it great." And his smile became more real, more honest. "I'm the band leader, and I say it's gonna be just like old times, it's just gonna be us and the music and you're gonna go out there, and you're gonna blow 'em away, and you're gonna be happy and that's that. Got it?"

Duster stared at him for a little while longer, and he felt his eyes watering for some reason.

"I'm glad you found me."

"C'mon, Lucky..." With a weak smile and a few hard blinks. "You're really doing a number on me here."

"I am. I really am. I really am lucky." His voice was shaking.

"What'd I say, huh?" And OJ brushed his thumb beneath one of his eyes. "You're over-thinking it, just relax." A moment, and he smiled at him again, his confidence returning. "If you're really Lucky, then be Lucky and let this Duster guy take a nap, alright? And if you're really Lucky..." And he leaned in closer to him. "Then follow my lead. We got a show to do."

OJ patted him on the shoulder, a typical friendly gesture, and stood up as if to leave, and Duster found he stood up with him. He didn't get more than a few steps away before Duster reached out and caught the edge of his jacket.

"Wait-" he said, but he was already pulling him into a tight hug and the word was muffled in his shoulder. He wasn't sure who it was who closed the distance, it happened so quickly, but it didn't really matter. OJ filled up his arms, solid and warm and close, and he held onto him like he'd never get another chance, and in a way, that made sense.

They stood like that for a while, close enough to feel him breathing, feel his heart beating next to his.

"Don't die, okay?" OJ whispered by his ear, and the vulnerability in his voice made him tighten his grip around him enough to make his arms shake. After a few seconds, finally OJ was the first to let him go, and when they'd pulled apart, he rested his hands on his shoulders. There was that sad, wounded smile he'd seen before, that look in his eyes. Duster recognized it now - before he hadn't understood, he didn't realize, but now he knew why he looked at him that way, why it had always left him helpless and desperate for more. OJ looked at him with love and it bled into his voice, as much as he might have tried for nonchalance. "You still gotta come back and tell me where you got all those scars. Right?"

Duster lifted a hand, rested it on top of one of OJ's, a white patchwork against smooth skin. He wanted time to stop. "Right."

"C'mon, let's go." And he threw his arm around his shoulders like always and led him out of the room. "It's gonna be great, just watch."

---

"This may be the last time you ever hear us play. And... this might be the last time... we ever get to perform."

---

The others didn't act like they were disappointed at their great reunion having been cut so short, but Duster wondered. How could they not be a little disappointed? After all this time, they were finally all together again, they finally had their missing piece, they could finally play with all their heart and soul, and all they'd managed was a song and a half. They'd barely even gotten started! This was supposed to be the concert to end all concerts, their last concert possibly ever, and that was all they got? It was completely unfair. They'd had jam sessions about Big City Colas that went on longer than that.

But there was nothing to be done about it now. It was over and there was nothing that would change that. Maybe he should have even been thankful for the reminder that he had a much more important job to do, but he definitely couldn't get himself to believe that. He'd only just gotten warmed up before he had to stop, and it had been such a long time since he had a chance to play...

Nothing to be done. Duster got changed and, with a wistful look or two, left his wig and everything behind and went back to Lucas and Kumatora (who clapped when they saw him, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed so hard, which made her laugh). He got to play at least one song with them again, that was something. He should really focus on that.

It was hard though, and maybe the others could sense that. They were very determined to let him know that they didn't think the interruption was a big deal.

"We got luck on our side," Shimmy said, patting his back with a smile, and it was difficult not to smile with them, even if he didn't feel exactly enthused. "We've always had dumb luck on our side! Tondagossa!" Asking for a response, and Duster nodded.

"Tondagossa." Although without the right energy. Magic clicked his tongue piercing against his teeth.

"D'you think he would've stopped us if we played his lullaby instead?" Although he couldn't help a slight grimace at the thought, and Duster knew that he and the others did the same. They'd played that song so many times they could do it backwards. It got old.

"We would've had to stop sometime anyway," OJ said, with a far too casual shrug. "I got a feeling you guys and Pokey got a date with destiny." As much as he might not have wanted to, Duster had to nod at that, and he saw Lucas nod beside him.

"Pokey's got a date with my fist is more like it," Kumatora said, cracking her knuckles. Magic grinned and held up a hand and after a moment, she gave in and gave him a high five which was followed by a round of laughter. It was hard to feel down around them for long.

"Lucas, isn't it?" Baccio said, and Lucas blinked and nodded. He adjusted his sunglasses, looked pointedly Duster's way before he turned back to the boy. "We leave Lucky in your hands."

Duster's heart quickened a little, and he wasn't sure if it was just at the thought of saying goodbye, or that they were so openly worried about him. How long would it take him to get used to this kind of thing? Baccio stared at him a few moments longer, still so hard to read behind those glasses, then abruptly laughed.

"Oh wait, I mean Duster! I forgot, he's not Lucky!" Although it didn't sound quite like he believed that, and the sideways smirk in Duster's direction didn't help.

"I can't believe you gotta go already," Magic said, with a sigh, and he thumped Duster's back. "I feel like you just got here!"

"I know, I know..."

"Don't worry, man." Shimmy nodded sagely. "Things'll work out. Once you get this Pokey guy taken care of, then we can really bring the house down."

"Take good care of him, alright?" Baccio said to Lucas and Kumatora again, and he raised a hand to his chin in that thoughtful way. "He's got a tendency to get into trouble, this one."

"I do not," Duster said, smiling but still his heart felt heavy. This all had happened so quickly; he'd barely had any time with them at all, and already he had to say goodbye. He wasn't ready for this... why were his goodbyes with them always so sudden? It was the concert all over again...

"Don't worry about us. Just go do what you gotta do," Magic said, like he could sense his failing mood. Duster hadn't even had a chance to tell most of them what he'd gotten up to, all the things he'd done and seen since he'd left, the few snatches of song he'd been working on in the back of his mind during his idle moments. It wasn't fair that time only moved quickly when he was happy... although maybe he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Right..." Duster looked down, tried not to sigh and bring everyone else down - they were all so intent on keeping him up after all and it was the least he could do, but it was hard. He was going to miss them and it hurt to think he had to leave already, again.

For once there was something of an awkward silence, and it occurred to him that he hadn't heard anything from OJ yet. When he lifted his head, he noticed all other eyes were on their band leader as well. He was staring at Duster, deep in thought with one hand on his chin, somber and it echoed in his head, don't die okay, and he wished they were alone so he could hold him again. He might never get another chance, and already it felt like their last embrace had been too short.

The others were silent, waiting as OJ considered his words and there was an unfamiliar feeling of tension in the air, anticipation for what he'd say. Finally, he took a step forward, raised a hand like he was going to rest it on Duster's shoulder, then hesitated. After a tense second, he ended up putting in his pocket, gesturing loosely with his other hand as he often did, like there was nothing unusual here.

Nothing to worry about.

"You're the only bassist the DCMC can ever have," OJ said, carefully, and he blinked several times to try and drive away the shine. "Without you, we're without a bass."

He wasn't sure if saying I love you would have been less painful. It was hard for him to even move, to restart his thoughts, to pull his feet from the thick quagmire of his feelings, to remember that he had something important to do. He pushed away the mess around his heart, and he nodded.

"I'll see you later." Duster found it hard to make it sound like he believed that, and maybe they could tell, but he knew he couldn't linger. Already, he was pushing it, and that feeling was getting worse. "Thanks, guys."

"See ya, Lucky."

He turned away, and they headed out of the theater.

---

One hundred floors was such a large number that it never really registered in his head. The biggest houses he'd ever been in before had been two stories; he could still remember helping Lighter build his... before it had burnt down, anyway. Then there was Osohe castle, but that was a castle... it made sense that it'd be tall, and even then, it only had nine floors if you went all the way up the tower, and even that was hard enough for him to keep track of. A building having one hundred floors was entirely outside his comprehension. He could understand the words but they never actually sunk in.

One might think that climbing flight after flight in the darkness, going up and up and up and up and up for hours on end, would make the number real, but it didn't. Instead it just felt like he was trapped in an endless repeating loop, constantly scaling the same flight of stairs to only appear at the landing he'd just left behind. It was starting to play tricks with his head. How could a building be this tall? He must have been touching the sky by now, not that he could see it in here. The lack of windows and constant darkness surrounding each set of stairs and landing only heightened the sensation of being lost in a perpetual void. No doubt Pokey had designed it this way on purpose.

He was getting sick and tired of these stairs, though, and thankfully, on one red carpeted landing after the last idiotic game the announcer had made Lucas play, there was a couch.

"Can we sit...?" He was breathing just a little hard - it turned out that multiple flights of stairs and his left leg did not go well together at all. The customary ache was becoming a sharper stab, and that was always a bad sign. Another thing to add to his list of things his leg did not like doing (figured this place would find a new one), but at least this wasn't a situation he was likely to find himself in again... hopefully.

The others didn't argue, and he thought he saw a little relief in Lucas's eyes. The announcer had said they'd passed all the tests... supposedly, Pokey was just up ahead. Not that he trusted that brat at this point; he'd lied to them how many times now? He probably had some trick up his sleeve... either way, Duster didn't blame Lucas for looking a little nervous at the prospect of meeting him.

It was strange; everything they'd seen about Pokey... his bizarre fake city, his dumb pranks, his selfish behavior, his constant insults, his childish obsessions, his massive ego... all of it pointed to someone a lot pettier and stupider than Duster would have expected for a powerful interdimensional interloper trying to destroy the world. Shouldn't someone like that be... more mature about it?

Maybe this was all just beyond him. He sat down on the couch with a relieved huff, rubbing his leg, and the others sat down beside him. After a few seconds of silence, he felt Lucas tug at his sleeve a little.

"Sorry..."

"Hm?"

"About your leg, I didn't think about that... are you gonna be okay?"

Of course Lucas would be concerned for him; what else did he expect? Duster waved a hand and tried to smile. "It's alright, don't worry. I'm just not used to this many stairs..."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Kumatora had her arms sprawled out across the back of the couch, her head leaned all the way back. "Who even needs a hundred floors anyway? What's the point?"

"That's what I was thinking." Duster smiled, and he looked back down at his leg to see Lucas holding his hand over it, his fingers starting to glow. "Oh, Lucas, no, you don't have to, it's fine..."

But it was too late, he could feel Lucas's power sifting through his skin to his muscles, a faint warmth soothing away the sharp throbs. It could bring him back to baseline, but it could never take away the ache entirely. It didn't take away the guilty feeling either when Lucas leaned away, letting out a shaky breath.

"You really shouldn't push yourself too hard..." Duster reached out to ruffle his hair, then paused and pressed his hand to his forehead. "You feeling alright?"

"Mm... just wanted to help..." Softly, his eyes closing, and Duster looked over at Kumatora.

"I think he's got a fever again."

"Well, could be worse." She sat up properly, her hands on her thighs, and shrugged with a resigned smile. "Least we're not up to our butts in chimeras."

Couldn't argue with that. Duster steadied Lucas as he weaved back and forth a little, his eyes drifting shut. "You should get some rest, okay? We can get going when you're ready."

"Mmm..." Like he didn't quite hear them, and Duster looked back to Kumatora again.

"You want to take him?"

A moment, then she shifted to face him a little more, her arms held out. "Yeah alright, give 'em here."

He lowered Lucas into her arms, and she lowered him into her lap while he lifted his legs up over his own. Neither of them were the best pillow, but apparently Lucas didn't mind. He drifted off, mumbling something through a foggy haze, his face flushed.

He had such great power, and he was still so fragile at times. Still just a small boy. Duster should've stopped him before he healed him, he didn't want him overexerting himself for his sake, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.

Lucas fell asleep, or at least into a deep trance, relatively quickly, but Duster didn't feel exactly tired. Even so, when he stared out into the darkness that surrounded them, trying to pick out a wall or a window or anything except a dull void, he found himself dozing off a little. A few times he found his head falling forward on his chest, consciousness slipping away without notice until he jolted awake again.

Not only was there no way to see the sky in here, there was no way to tell time. Pokey really was devious sometimes.

After he jerked himself awake for the third time, he looked over at Kumatora to see how she was doing. Maybe she could keep him awake. She was looking down at Lucas with her eyes nearly closed and an unfamiliarly serious expression, one hand on his shoulder, every now and then stroking his hair. When she caught Duster staring, she shrugged and gave him an awkward grin, back to her usual self.

"How you holdin' up?"

"Huh?" He blinked at her, then rubbed the back of his neck, far too caught off -guard for such a simple question. "I'm fine... why?"

She shrugged again, casual and easy. "Just thought you might be a little bummed about your concert gettin' cut short. That kinda sucked."

"Oh... yeah, that was a little disappointing. I was just getting warmed up..." His voice was dwindling, he wasn't sure why.

"Yeah, I could tell. You know, you get this great look on your face when you're playin' that thing?" She grinned at him, her eyes lit up and he could swear he could see them sparkling. It was always so hard to look away from them. "Like it's the greatest thing in the world. You look so happy, it's ridiculous."

Duster smiled a little at the thought; he couldn't help it. "Yeah... I really do like it. I think I'm..." Pretty good, a faint voice said, but he shoved it down quickly. Couldn't afford to think like that - he was probably wrong. "I think I'm alright."

"You're great and you know it." She pointed at him, still grinning. "It sucks you didn't really get a chance to let loose. But..." And he followed her gaze upwards to the lamp post beside the couch; the sole source of light for each landing. "Bet you were happy to see your buds again, huh?"

There were no moths around the lamp; no life here except for them. "Yeah... it's been a while since I saw them." His smile stretched and thinned with the faint pulse of melancholy at the thought. "I missed hanging out with them..."

"Yeah, I bet." She leaned her head back against the couch, a faint teasing air to her voice like she knew something he didn't. "Magic and Baccio and Shimmy and... OJ."

He blinked, then looked over at her, and she had an eyebrow raised.

"What?" He could already feel his face prickling.

"You have the worst poker face in the world, you know that?" She laughed, and he could feel his face getting warmer as he looked away, rubbing one of his arms. What was that supposed to mean? What were they talking about again?

"...Yeah, of course I was happy to see 'em all again..."

"Uh huh." He could hear the smile in her voice, definitely teasing him now. Did she know? She seemed to be implying something, but... did she? Should he tell her? It was private... wasn't it?

Then again, if they'd come close to kissing not so long ago, then that meant that they were heading down a familiar path, whether he was aware of it or not, and she might want to know that she wasn't alone on it. Right? Was that okay? Why hadn't Wes explained any of this to him?

"Uh... about that, um... I should probably tell you-"

"I already know." She waved a hand. It felt almost exactly like when an enemy snuck up on him, and somehow through the shock came the thought, well, that settles that.

"How did you-"

"I told you, you got a terrible poker face, dude. Not to mention the walls in your room weren't as thick as you thought." And her smile only widened as his face burned. "Ha, look at you go! Think you just got a full load of oxygen or something."

He wanted to sink into the floor - how much had she heard?! "Uh..."

"Don't worry, it's cool. Prob'ly did you some good actually, you didn't really seem like you got out much, you know?" It was a rhetorical question, and it occurred to him that of course she knew about the two of them - she was psychic! She'd probably read his mind and found out ages ago, what did he think he was doing trying to keep it a secret around her? She must have thought he was an idiot.

"...Yeah." Maybe the conversation could be over now.

"It must've been nice to see him again, right?" Why couldn't she let this go? He was biting the inside of his lip.

"Yeah..."

"...So, what are you gonna do when we get through all this?"

"What?"

"When we pull the needle and save the world or whatever, what are you gonna do? Gonna go back to your old man and be a thief again?" A moment, and she raised an eyebrow. "Or you gonna go back to the DCMC?"

He wasn't prepared at all for that question, startled out of his embarrassed loops, and he found it hard to even think that far ahead. His default life plan had always revolved around his father - he hadn't even considered that there were other paths he could take. A bassist instead of a thief... could he really do that? Stay with them for the rest of his life...

"I don't know..." he said, and he looked at the floor. "I haven't really thought about it, I guess."

She waited a few seconds, perhaps expecting a more solid answer, then leaned her head back and let out a long breath of air. She stared at the blackness above them while Duster stared at the floor, trying to get his heart to calm down. She knew, this whole time-

"He was good to you, huh?"

Just when he thought his face might be cooling. He turned away from her so he could try and hide it a little. "Yeah, he... he taught me a lot." That was all he could manage to say, even though that barely scratched the surface. He taught him a lot about so much, it was hard to keep it all straight.

He loved me when I didn't think anyone ever would.

Something itched at the back of his mind, and he shut his eyes. Of all the times for her to read his thoughts, and he wondered what she'd tease him with now. He loved her but sometimes she didn't know when to back off.

Wait... loved her?

"I bet he did," she said with her hands behind her head, the picture of unflappable confidence. It was familiar somehow. "But you know, maybe he taught you a lot about guys..." And she turned her head to look at him with a knowing smile. "But there's a lot you can learn about girls, too."

He stared at her, mind completely blank, blinking for a few seconds in an attempt to restart his brain and make his mouth work again.

"...Are you saying you want to-"

"Shh." She leaned over to him and pressed a hand to his lips. "Let's get out of this first, then we'll figure it out, huh?"

All he could was blink at her dumbly, and Lucas stirred a little on her lap. Before he could ask her anything more, she was shaking him awake.

"You feelin' alright now? C'mon, let's get going! Pokey's butt isn't gonna kick itself, you know!"

Lucas yawned and sat up, and they were up and moving again while Duster was still trying to gather his thoughts. She charged ahead so often without him and left him in the dust, trying to understand what happened. All he could do was follow her lead.

---

Pokey had far too many robots.

It was bad enough that Duster had nearly lost an arm to that terrifying Natural Killer Cyborg thing (thank goodness Lucas's shields held) but now they were being swarmed by these identical child-sized robots, all made in Pokey's image, and they would not stop coming. They were loud and distracting and persistent, they made piercing beeping noises that made it hard to think, they coordinated their efforts on whoever they thought was the weakest, they called other chimeras for back-up when outnumbered, but the worst part was that they kept exploding. It wasn't like Duster could attack them from a distance, so every time he managed to take one down, it blew up right in his face and it hurt.

The others weren't faring much better. Attacking physically left them in the same boat as Duster - all of them needed to get too close. As for PSI, Kumatora's new Ground ability didn't affect them very well, and her lightning could be frustratingly inaccurate. She could set down a wall of fire, but it didn't slow them down for long, and while she could freeze one or two for a time, they'd burst out of their icy prisons and send razor sharp shards flying everywhere. Then there was Starstorm... but that took an enormous amount of her mental power to summon, and there was healing that needed to be done as well. Both she and Lucas were hard-pressed to keep everyone going in the face of constant interruptions, attacks, and mechanical explosions, and while Duster wasn't psychic himself, he knew their power wasn't limitless. Something had to give, but what other options did they have?

He really could have used some thunder bombs right now.

There was another blast by his side, causing him to stumble back a little, and Boney yelped. Another Pokey-bot down, but two more seemed to spring up in its place. He rushed over to the dog's side, helped him back up and he could see he was favoring one of his paws with a whimper. Why did these horrible things explode so much? He ushered Boney over to Lucas, stood between him and the encroaching robots, his hands up in a ready stance. Protect his teammates, that was what mattered.

"Boney needs help!"

"They won't stop!" Kumatora growled by his side. He heard Boney bark in alarm, and turned in time to see Lucas's stick slam into the body of one of the Pokeys, which promptly exploded in a fiery burst of shrapnel. Lucas was knocked clean off his feet, but Duster was already behind him to catch him before he hit the floor. His left leg gave out and he landed hard on his knees, Lucas in his lap with his eyes closed and his breath shallow.

"Lucas is down!"

"Damn it!" Kumatora shouted.

Like sand in his limbs, a thick buzzing through his bad leg that was never a good sign, and he wasn't sure if he could get up again easily himself, but he wasn't about to let them have Lucas without a fight. Duster narrowed his eyes, pulled a staple from his belt, prepared himself for the worst and he could hear Boney growling beside him, Kumatora panting behind him as she fell to her knees. The Pokey-bots clanked and whirred and closed their circle. No escape.

This was it...

All of a sudden, some guys rushed into the room!

It was the DCMC!

All he could do was sit there and gawp as Baccio, a length of straight pipe tight in one hand, took a stand between them and the incoming Pokey-bots.

"Tondagossa!" Not the least bit afraid or concerned as he adjusted his sunglasses, one arm held slightly back like he was posing for one of their fliers. "Dramatic climaxes are when unruly dudes like us really get to shine!"

The Pokey-bots beeped and flailed their arms, not unlike the Mini-Pokey had whenever Lucas had done too well in those rigged mini-games, and one headed straight for Baccio. Duster's breath caught, the danger of this suddenly becoming all too clear, and he tried to shout a warning for him to get back, to look out, but it was drowned out by the sound of metal hitting metal. The Pokey-bot's head came clean off, and his heart pounded as he waited for the inevitable explosion... which never came. Instead, the robot's body fell forward, sparking but intact, and it took a few seconds for it to sink in. What had happened?

He didn't have much time to think about it. While Baccio rested his pipe against his shoulder, either unaware or unconcerned that he'd somehow escaped a face full of robot shrapnel, Shimmy stepped forward on his other side where the Pokey-bots were regrouping. Instead of a pipe, he had a thick plank of wood, and he looked back at Duster over his shoulder.

"Seems this Master Pokey guy was trying to use us to brainwash everyone." And before Duster could say what?!, Shimmy had turned back to the incoming robots. "I say it's high time we screw up his stupid plans!"

He wasn't afraid in the least, not faltering as one of the robots charged directly for him. A slight feint to one side to avoid its attack, and he swung. Another robot's head was sent through the air, mechanical body clanking to the ground, and Shimmy snapped his fingers, job complete. Just like the first, this one didn't explode either (the heads, was it the heads?) and the relief- if something happened to them, if something happened to his friends because of him, then-

It was all happening so quickly. He could hear one of the robots readying an attack nearby, but by the time he turned to see, Magic was already there. Like a blur, he darted between the Pokey-bot and its prey, crouched low to the ground so he could bring his guitar up by the neck in a sweeping arc. It struck the robot in the face, knocking its head clean off just like the others, and while its body twitched on the floor, Magic continued his spin for a few seconds before he could catch himself.

"Ha!" A loud bark, and his chest heaved. He turned and grinned at Duster, all his teeth showing. "We ain't gonna let this Pokey freak have his way!"

He couldn't believe it, how did they get here? Their timing was perfect...

OJ told him to trust in destiny... was this destiny?

Baccio and Shimmy called Magic over to them to help them deal with a Kangashark one of the robots had called for help, and of course, while they were distracted, the Pokey-bots decided to make their move on their true target. Duster could hear one beeping as it charged towards them, towards him, and he couldn't get up, not with Lucas weighing him down and his leg still like this, and Kumatora and Boney couldn't rise beside him either. It kept coming and he leaned over Lucas to shield him with his body, his eyes shut tight-

Someone's hand braced itself on his shoulder for a moment, and he opened his eyes and saw a pink coat flash in front of him. The Pokey-bot's head went flying, and there, the final member of the DCMC stood in front of him, one of the broken arms from the Natural Killer Cyborg in his hand.

"We're gonna make you pay for everything you've done!" OJ said, resolute, as angry as he'd ever heard him, and he took a meaningful step towards another lingering Pokey-bot. It didn't move... could it be hesitating? OJ didn't give it a chance to get away, rushing towards it with his makeshift weapon at ready while the robot flailed its arms in apparent panic. "Get ready! It's punishment time!"

Saved... again.

The supply of robots wasn't endless after all. A few more dispatched, remaining chimeras driven off, and the room eventually grew quiet except for the wind outside and the harsh breathing of his bandmates. As brave as they all had been, completely fearless, Duster could only imagine that this all had to be rather new to them. They were musicians after all, not... not thieves.

OJ brushed his hand across his forehead, dropped the Natural Killer Cyborg's arm, let out a long breath then straightened with a sudden realization. He whirled around and headed straight for Duster, trying not to run but unable to simply walk, and when he knelt by his side, one hand on his shoulder, he could practically feel concern radiating off him. For a second, OJ and Kumatora met eyes, but his attention quickly refocused.

"Lucky, you alright?"

"I'm fine-" He wasn't, exactly, but he was still conscious, and that was what mattered. "We need to get Lucas back up-"

Boney sat up with a faint whine, limbs shaking a little, and dug into the satchel strapped to his side. After a few seconds he pulled out a small vial and held it out in his mouth to Kumatora, who took it with a relieved smile.

"Awesome, a Secret Herb. Just what we need. Thanks, Boney."

Boney panted, pleased, by their side, and she held the vial up to Lucas's mouth and poured it between his lips. After a few tense seconds, his eyelids fluttered and he awoke, and Duster breathed a sigh of relief. It was never easy to see him unconscious, even if he knew they had ways to bring him back. He was still so young.

"You okay, kid?" OJ smiled at Lucas, who blinked at him, baffled, before giving him a weak smile in return. "There we go, knew you were made of tough stuff. Bad news for you though," as he leaned back a little, as smooth as ever, "you missed our super cool entrance."

He could feel Lucas laugh a little, crisis averted, danger now passed, and it was always so easy to feel like everything was okay around OJ. He never knew how he did it.

"Sorry..." Lucas said, his voice thin, and OJ waved a hand dismissively, moving out of the way a little so Boney could lick his face.

"You'll just have to make sure you stay awake next time, you dig?" That confident smile. Nothing ever fazed him.

"Yeah..." As Lucas ruffled Boney's ears. Duster could see that his hands were still a little unsteady - it'd take a little while for him to be completely back on his feet.

"Thanks for bailing us out there, guys," Kumatora said, and Magic held out a hand to help her up.

"No problem! We thought you might need some help." Magic laughed, still a little out of breath though Duster was willing to bet it was residual excitement rather than fatigue, and when he held out one fist, she couldn't resist giving him a fistbump much to his delight.

"We knew this Pokey guy was bad news," Shimmy said as he pulled Lucas to his feet. Lucas's sense of balance wasn't perfect just yet, but the others were more than happy to steady him when he wavered. When Lucas was up, OJ took Duster's arm.

"You alright?" Quietly, just to him, as they stood up together, and Duster nodded. "You look a little singed."

"The other ones exploded on us..."

"No kidding!" With a low whistle. "That'd explain it. Things looked pretty bad when we got here." And he nudged his shoulder with a grin. "Heh, lucky you got us lookin' out for you, huh?" It was suddenly hard to meet his eyes, his face prickling a little. Duster caught Kumatora giving him a look with a smile and this got all awkward all of a sudden.

"Thanks for your help-"

"Come, Boney."

All conversation died at the sound of that voice. Duster hadn't heard it in three years, and from Lucas's reaction, he would have believed it had been just as long for him.

Boney ran towards his old master with a flurry of excited barks, leaping up to lick Flint's face as he knelt down to stroke his head. Everyone just stared in stunned or confused silence until Flint looked up, meeting eyes with his son.

"Lucas, this is it... this is finally it..."

Lucas stood there, his mouth open, unable to find words, and Duster wondered if maybe he should say something for him, or if someone should say something. This seemed like a situation where someone should be saying something.

"Have we managed to corner the enemy... or have we all been lured here?" And he froze, every thought wiped away, every muscle tense. Wes walked from the stairs to Flint's side, one hand to his mouth, speaking slowly and thoughtfully, as he often used to when he was considering the nature of the unknown enemy. Three years since he'd last seen him with his memory intact, three years- "Hmm. I suppose it doesn't matter either way." And his eyes moved from the floor and pinned Duster down.

There was no anger there, nothing that he'd been expecting. As casual as if he'd just gone to the store, as casual as if he'd left the room, as casual as if no time had passed at all. "Right, Duster?"

He wasn't sure what was worse; anger or nonchalance. At least he knew how to react to anger. What was this feeling? All Duster could do was stare at him blankly, eyes wide, struggling to untangle a sudden mass of all too complicated emotions, and vaguely he felt OJ shake his arm somewhere and say his name. Other members of the village he hadn't seen in ages came into the room, Lighter and Bronson and even little Fuel, but he couldn't look away from his long-lost father.

Wes, in comparison, stared upwards at the ceiling, at the mass of vines and machinery that now hummed amidst the lightning strikes.

Something from above coughed.

---

When the floor beneath him shifted and fell, he looked up and saw OJ over one edge, reaching out to try and catch him with a startled shout of his name, and his father over the other, looking bewildered.

Then they were gone.

---

Duster wasn't psychic, but he didn't need to be to be able to sense the vibrations of the needle up ahead. It went through his body right into his chest, a heartbeat overriding his own that made him feel shaky and lightheaded. What was it like for the others?

What was it like for Lucas?

Claus... so it had been Claus all this time. When he heard the name, all he could think of was the rambunctious boy he'd seen growing up in the village, tussling with the other children and getting into trouble and always so fearless with his questions about who Duster was and what he did. All he could see was the energetic, red-haired boy that had been such a perfect mirror image of the blond one trudging along beside him now.

Duster knew who lay ahead for them, who was waiting for them at the needle, who had to be stopped, and it didn't seem real. But it must have paled in comparison to how Lucas felt about this, and along with the throbbing pulsing in his heart, Duster felt a strong pang of concern.

Such a heavy burden for a young boy. Duster was so used to carrying heavy burdens by himself.

By himself...

He reached out and touched Lucas's shoulder and he stopped, although he didn't turn around. Ahead, a faint glowing golden light in the darkness marked the needle. Crackles of energy, flashes of lightning lit the air unevenly around them, revealed stark cliffs and chasms into the heart of the earth. From darkness to light, that was appropriate, wasn't it?

When she saw that they'd stopped, Kumatora did as well, looking at Duster with a curious, somber expression. Lucas remained silent, staring at the pulsing light ahead of them, like he was unaware that they were there, though he did not move away. Duster waited a few seconds, then leaned over a little so he could take Lucas's hand in his own. His fingers were cold, just as they had been back at the club.

"I believe in you," Duster said. "No matter what happens. You have a good heart." There was so much more to say and he couldn't find the words. He was still so bad at situations like this - this was something meant for grand sweeping speeches, and all he could manage were a few brief sentences. What else was there to say? It was the truth, and he couldn't think of anything fancier. It was what was important. "I believe in you."

Lucas didn't say anything.

Kumatora had that sad look in her eyes again, and she reached down herself to take Lucas's other hand.

"Yeah, I believe in you too, got it? You can do this, okay? We're with you all the way."

That was something he'd missed. "We're with you 'til the end."

Still, Lucas said nothing. They waited, and Boney sat by him and whined.

Lucas moved forward, eyes fixed straight ahead, and he didn't say a word. He didn't let go of their hands until the figure of the masked man was clear in front of them.

Duster had every intention of fighting by Lucas's side. He was even willing to die for him, he realized at that moment, if it meant that Lucas would pull the needle. As the masked man stood up, his sword drawn, Duster raised his hands, falling into a ready stance, and Boney growled by his feet. He could see flames around Kumatora's fists, and Lucas stared at the masked man with no expression, his arms at his side.

He was going to fight with Lucas to the very end. He wouldn't abandon him. He wouldn't fail him. If he couldn't fight his brother... then they would do it for him, if they had to. He was ready to do this. He was going to do this.

He couldn't, he wouldn't allow Lucas to be hurt anymore.

He wouldn't let Lucas down.

The masked man raised his sword, there was a crackling sound and all his hair stood on end.

That was all he remembered.

---

Something bright penetrated the darkness, warm and insistent, familiar, and it pulled him back together. He struggled to follow it upwards, and slowly his eyes opened. Kumatora was over him, one glowing green hand raised.

"Duster..." she said, and he wanted to ask her what happened but couldn't get his mouth to work right. She squinted her eyes nearly shut, took in a shaky breath, and she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up. He could barely think straight enough to protest or resist.

She stood up, taking him with her, and he kept looking at her for answers but she wasn't looking at him. He followed her gaze, and he could see Flint, Boney, and Lucas kneeling beside the still body of a red-haired boy.

The feeling wasn't unlike when he'd first found out that Hinawa was dead, and in a way, that was probably fitting. Lucas set Claus down and backed away from him, weaved back and forth on his feet, stared at his brother's dead body in a numb haze. What happened? What had happened to them all? Duster had never felt this helpless before, the depth of the tragedy beyond his comprehension. He couldn't even begin to imagine how they were feeling. What was he supposed to do or say? He wanted to do something, help him, take away the pain but he had no idea how. A great gulf lay between them when he needed him the most.

That buzzing hadn't gone away, a foreign throb still echoing through his body to his fingertips, power palpable in the air and his eyes were drawn to the needle, still crackling and pulsing. This wasn't over yet.

Flint told Lucas not to be afraid. To wake the dragon, and rebirth the world. That he'd done the right thing, that he knew he could do it, to forgive his brother. Lucas didn't react to anything he said, only staring at Claus's body with no expression, tears constantly rolling down his face.

Pass your heart onto the dragon.

Flint told Lucas that he could do this, but he didn't even know him. Lucas wasn't the same person he was three years ago any more than Duster was, who was the Lucas that Flint knew? Who was the Lucas that he put his faith in?

He wrapped his hands around the needle.

Duster knew Lucas though.

He wasn't psychic, but considering how hard he was thinking it, maybe Lucas would hear him anyway.

I believe in you. You have a good heart. You can do this.

Was it belief or hope? Did it really matter? There was nothing he could do. This was up to Lucas now.

It was Lucas's heart alone that would determine the fate of the world, and all Duster could do was hope that his place in it had helped make it light.

Now you need to believe in yourself.

There was nothing he could do, as Lucas tightened his grip and the needle transformed into a beam of light and vanished, and the ground ripped open with geysers of burning steam and a deep rumbling grew louder and louder. There was nothing he could do, as the cavern they were in began to collapse, the air growing hot and acrid, the rock beneath their feet rolling and buckling and Kumatora was in his arms, holding onto him for dear life and he crushed her to him, trying to protect her as the world tore itself apart around them. There was nothing he could do.

They had no choice.

It was fitting that that had gotten him through so much of his life, and it was one of the last things he thought of when it all came to an end.

---

He had a lot of thanks to give.

Everyone he loved made it to the other side.

In the end, he really was lucky.