ROBIN HADN'T BEEN ABLE TO CATCH HIS FEATURES PROPERLY when he had started running, the hood doing a decent job shadowing his features.

She had never thought this day would come; when the ghosts of a past that had haunted her would suddenly emerge and fuse with her reality. The distant memories had always felt like an alternate universe to her, so surreal, so out of touch.

His eyes were still the same shade of peaceful blue, his hair shorter than it had been when they were kids. She couldn't believe how grown he was now. She couldn't believe this was the same kid she used to tower over.

It was him.

"Ollie," she called his name out of need. It was him.

He blinked at the sound of his name, at the recognition on her face. Somehow it made him cry harder. They had all speculated she would remember him, but he never knew. He had hoped she would. He even believed it, once, when her eyes lingered on him before he was shadowed by Jeremy's figure. But he never thought it would happen. He never expected he'd see her looking at him like this again.

"I thought I lost you." Robin's voice was nothing but a gentle whisper that Ollie barely heard through the sobs that tore out of his throat.

His arms clung to her just as hard as hers clung to him, his wet cheek pressed on the crook of her neck, fingers digging under the skin of her back. He felt the warmth of her embrace, and it was different from Joe's or Lizzie's or Jeremy's. He had been trying all his life to fill something that had been ripped from him, and there had always been this void, this empty space, one that couldn't be filled and that had always felt cold.

And now he could feel it, a warm kindle glowing his insides like a gentle lullaby.

"I'm sorry." The words tore out of his throat in a desperate plea. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes stung, tears cutting through her skin and dampening her cheeks. She pulled him closer to her, fingers threading through his soft curls, her other hand around him like a tight band, fearing that if she let go of him for a second - he would vanish.

Lizzie took a few steps to stand between them. "You're still bleeding, Robin."

The sound of her name made her heart miss a beat. She snapped her chin up. She could see clearer now. The glass that had blurred all her memories shattered to pieces.

"Let me see your wound," Ollie croaked, pulling only an inch away, eyes looking down to study the cut. He winced, feeling his chest tighten at the sight of the large slit. It spanned several inches long from her inner to her outer thigh and was an inch wide. "Shit," he hissed under his breath.

"It's fine." Robin wiped her eyes, looking down at her thigh. She ground her teeth. It needed stitches.

She had worn a long-sleeved shirt, and she was quick to take it off knowing she wore a tank top underneath. She wrapped the cotton tight around the cut, giving the knots a squeeze and watching the blood soak it. Seeing Ollie had completely thrown her off course, and the blood was now splattering on the tiles, gushing out at a snail's pace without seeming to stop.

"We have to go to the hospital," Lizzie stated, crouching down between them, her brows pinched together. "It's a fifty minutes' walk, we can make-"

"There's no need, I'll stitch it myself." Robin swallowed, palm putting pressure on top of the blood-soaked shirt. "Help me down."

Ollie and Lizzie were quick to create a way for her to go down the roof, putting wooden barrels and carton boxes on top of each other. It was only a one-story house, which made it easier for Robin to maneuver her way down.

"Robin!" Christina's shrill was heard from a distance as she ran with loud labored breaths, pushing her body forward to reach her. "You're injured!"

"I have the bag!" Finn rasped from a mile away, hoping Robin had packed a first aid kit. "Give me fifteen minutes, I'll be there!" he wheezed, dragging the bag behind him with the handles. Lizzie jogged the distance between them to reach him, taking the bag off his hands and hooking it around her shoulder. "You are a God." He was on his knees, hand on his chest, and about to fall on his back.

Lizzie held back a smile, catching his wrist and pulling him off the ground. She swung his arm around her shoulder, dragging him back to the group.

"We need to get you to a hospital," Christina insisted the moment she took in the blood dripping next to her feet.

She already lost enough blood. "It's too far, I'll stitch myself here."

"You need a sterile environment," Ollie reasoned, his voice low and timid. "We'll go home, it's closer."

Christina frowned, her eyes studying him carefully. She recognized Lizzie, the woman from the bar, but this one was new. She hadn't seen him before. The way he clung to Robin to keep her upright itched the back of her mind, but she pushed the question to a later time.

"Where's your home?" Christina rushed.

"It's fifteen minutes away."

"Then let's go. Come on."

Finn barely held back his tears.

Joe felt the threatening pulse of a headache at the front of her brain.

She had woken up to the lousy screams of butcher Zach's parrot as it mockingly chanted Fairford's national anthem, the hangover she prayed she wouldn't suffer from already coming to her in the form of nausea.

She wouldn't usually be near the center of Burlington, let alone right across the butchery, had it not been where the woman she spent the night with lived.

She glowered at the parrot from across the street, intending to send lightning bolts its way to mute it.

"What ar' you lookin' at?" Butcher Zach grumbled, slamming his butcher knife on the wooden board before him. He was a few feet away, yet his growl was loud enough to reach her from where she stood.

"Shut your fucking parrot," she rasped, her voice still rough and her throat feeling like sandpaper. She needed coffee. "No loud noises before ten a.m."

"It's bloody noon, brat." Butcher Zach chopped the meat before him, his parrot switching to chanting 'Fairfordian brat!' off the top of its lung. "Let him sing if he fucking wants to."

Joe ground her teeth, turning around to stand before the compact corner mart. She avoided the entrance and stood by the window where a man cleaned the window stool.

"Double espresso, I'm begging you."

"Right up."

She turned back to glare at the parrot as she waited, her ears straining from its high-pitched squeals. She could see it was entertaining Butcher Zach from the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You know," she taunted, "in the Amazon, people hunt parrots for food."

Butcher Zach came to a sudden stop, and so did his parrot. One corner of her lips curled up in a smug smile when he shot a cold glare in her direction, and she leaned back on the wall, a hand resting on the sill.

"Here you go." The man handed her the plastic cup and she fished out a crumpled dollar bill from her pocket in exchange.

"Thanks."

The smell of hot coffee soothed her nerves, the liquid warming her throat.

"You're acting so smug," Butcher Zach scoffed while Joe gulped down her drink, "explain what's one of ours' doin' with Fairfordians."

She snorted. "How the hell should I know?" She drained the rest of it before throwing the cup in a nearby trash can. "You're the bearer of bad news, you tell me."

"One of yours."

She arched an eyebrow. "One of mine?"

"That little blond boy," he explained, genuine distaste curling the top of his lips. "And another one of the punks of your house."

"Yeah?" Joe's lips curled down dismissively, failing to see why it would bother him. It wasn't like Fairfordians were forbidden to set foot in the districts. On the contrary, they brought entertainment when they did. "Prolly with some tourists. Why do you care?"

"Didn't seem like tourism to me. Thought I recognized the bunch from last time. The one that caused trouble last week."

She froze.

Slowly, she turned to fully face him, the piece of information managing to reach her nerves before the caffeine did.

"Jenkins?" She asked, hoping to be wrong.

"Right. Looked like she had a nasty wound. People offered help-" He waved his knife in circles, ushering at the merchants around them- "they said they'll take care of it at home. They said she's a doctor."

Joe stopped listening after that.

Her body moved before she could think, thrusting forward and heading back home.

Christina didn't ask questions. Not yet anyway.

Something was odd. Something wasn't right. She could sense it from the way the person - Ollie - was holding onto Robin, constantly checking she was alright, monitoring blood loss, arising fever, her concentration. It wasn't mere kindness as she had originally thought.

Her eyes were narrowed as the gears in her brain worked, and she slid her gaze to Lizzie, the woman holding the large bag and trailing behind them. The latter caught her eye and stared back.

Maybe she could ask her.

No.

She had to set her priorities straight, Robin's injury being the first thing they should treat-

Beyond her control, she went back to the initial events, studying them, frame by frame. Robin had been walking behind her, it was crowded and packed, and suddenly, she was tailing a person in all black whose face was covered with a hood. Was it him? Ollie? Or was it Lizzie?

She looked at Lizzie's cargo pants, they were olive green.

So, Ollie.

She wounded herself during the chase, and now, they were helping them treat the injury.

What changed?

The group arrived at their destination, standing before a one-story house, a gang of cats hoarding the porch.

Robin came to a sudden stop, staring at the set of stairs that separated them from the door. Her breathing had become labored, cold sweat trickling down her body as all she could think of at the moment was to collapse on the ground and succumb to darkness. But that house. She remembered that house, those stairs. She remembered how they used to hide from the guards here. She remembered how Ollie once rolled down those stairs as he ran away from a cockroach.

He had called it home.

She felt a lump well tight in her throat.

Ollie softly nudged her side. "Let me help you up," he said, taking the first step up and waiting for her to follow.

"I'm-" I'm fine, was what she wanted to say, but she stopped. She nodded instead, mimicking his actions.

Dread started to crawl up her skin the closer they got, and she couldn't tell why.

Joe had taken the fastest route home.

Her head and entire body throbbed from the sudden effort in protest, but she pushed through, needing to get home, dreading what was to come.

She hoped she somehow misunderstood what Zachary tried to tell her. Perhaps the blond boy was Jeremy's new hair color, and she had missed the memo.

But she had to be there, she had to understand.

She zoomed past the bar, unable to catch people's waves and calls, having only one target in mind.

Fucking hell. She shook her head. It had been years. Years. They had stayed on the down low, and suddenly, it seemed like all the shelter they had built for themselves cracked and tumbled.

She arrived at the back of the house, stretching up and jumping on the windowsill.

She struggled with the handle, cursing under her breath when she realized it was locked. She banged against the glass in a desperate attempt to catch anyone's attention, hoping she wasn't too late.

"The fuck?"

Her heart leaped at the sound of Jeremy's confusion, and she saw his silhouette from the other side of the glass as he approached her.

"Open up!"

"The hell Joe?" He frowned, sliding the pane open and pulling back so she could get in. He caught the alarm in her eyes, and it tugged at his gut. "What's going on?"

"Where are Lizzie and Ollie?" She asked as she rested on the stool, legs dangling, and an arm braced on the lintel.

"It's just me and Kade here," he was quick to answer, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "What is it?"

She struggled to catch her breath. "Listen-"

Just as she was about to talk, the door pushed open. She snapped her head up to follow the sudden intrusion, Jeremy twisting around to do the same.

"Oi, Joe," Kaden emerged from the hallway at the same time, staring at her with distaste evident in his features. "You know the fucking rules. Shoes outside."

He stopped dead in his track once he caught sight of Ollie on his left, and his eyes drifted to the blood spattering on the floor. His eyes stretched wide, shifting to the person leaning on him, catching her gaze.

Robin stared back.

It was him.

The man from the bar, from the dinner-him.

How did she miss it? How did she completely annihilate their identities? She felt suddenly betrayed by her own brain.

Joe

Lizzie

Jeremy

Kaden.

__________

Notes:

WE HIT 4K!! Thank you so so much for this, it's amazing!!!

Let me know what you think of this chapter! Sorry for my late-ish update, been a hectic week and I'm running low on chapters in stock... really need to pull myself out of writer's block and just write whatever trash comes out and edit later... i should i should.