"Oh, hey Owen," Gabe said, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. "I thought you were at work this morning."

"Soon. I'll have to leave in thirty minutes. You're up earlier than usual." Owen sounded pleased as he moved over to the coffee machine.

Gabe was, too. He might not be able to do much about the nightmares, except keep them hidden from Gray and Owen as much as possible, because he didn't want to worry them, but in other ways he was beginning to feel more like a real boy than he had when he first moved in.

"Gray and I are going out tonight. Would you like me to ask River and Ellis if they'll come over? I was thinking I could maybe ask another friend, too, if you feel ready?"

Gabe knew that Owen meant another submissive, or maybe even a masochist, though he wouldn't say it because he and Gray were obsessed with not pressuring him into exploring that.

"Date night?" he asked instead of having to come up with an answer, accepting a cup of coffee from Owen with a smile.

Owen flushed, which suited him to a ridiculous degree, Gabe was interested to note, but he didn't let that distract him, tipping his head to one side and waiting patiently for an explanation.

"Well, yes. And also no. We didn't mention it yet, but we're members of a club, you know, for the lifestyle. We're going there."

Gabe nodded in sudden and visceral understanding. The policeman had said there was a club. A BDSM club. It had seemed bad, so he doubted they were members of that one, but there had to be more than one in a city like New York.

As if he'd read Gabe's mind, Owen hummed, taking a sip of his coffee. "It's a nice one though. Very well run. Ellis' Dom owns it."

"So, people getting spanked in the corridors," Gabe chuckled uneasily.

"Not really," Owen answered seriously, ignoring Gabe's nervous posturing to stick to facts, which he appreciated. "Well, okay, some. I don't really know how to describe it – it's one of those things that's easier to just see."

Gabe shook his head at the thought. He certainly wasn't ready for that.

"Did you watch porn of it yet?"

Gabe almost giggled at the way Owen was assuming it was a matter of when, not if, but that was just the nerves again, so he tamped them down and shook his head.

"That's good, I think. Because it isn't like porn at all. And it's not like Top Floor; I don't know if you've started to get any memories of going there?"

He hadn't, he didn't think, although some of the dreams were dark and dank and loud, and surrounded by leering faces, so maybe that was it.

"When you're a little more ready, maybe we could take you to the dance club section. There's strict rules about decency in there. It's actually a really good place to get a feel for things, because people wear outfits, and collars, and stuff, and they kneel, but there's no sex stuff allowed, so it could be a gentle introduction for you."

"Is that where you're going?"

"No. We go upstairs. I think you could describe it as a Gentleman's club. But with oral and more nudity and sex shows, sometimes. And super gay."

Gabe wasn't sure what a Gentleman's club was – that sounded pretty gay just on its own, but he nodded; the complexity suddenly feeling very exhausting.

"You boys," Mrs Miggins said fondly from where she was dusting the shelves by the table, making Gabe, who'd managed to forget she was there, jump.

Owen seemed unbothered, approaching the bird-like woman and giving her a one-armed hug.

"Can we help you?"

"You can't," she announced with a pat to the back of his hand, "you have work. If you don't mind, though, Gabe, would you get the newspaper out of the cabinet under the sink? I'm going to clean the windows."

Owen gave them each a brief kiss to the cheek and disappeared upstairs to get ready, and Gabe shuffled around in the cabinet to find the stack of newspapers Mrs Miggins kept for cleaning.

He placed them on the table, awaiting further instruction, glancing vaguely at the one on top, from the week before.

He didn't even see the words before he felt his chest tightening, breathing getting harder, the room airless. It was the picture, a tiny square image, but utterly recognizable. The face from his nightmares staring up at him. Made real. Suddenly, the images in his mind were a cacophony of flickering shots in rapid succession, filling the empty spaces of lost memory with a gale, leaving his eyes tightly shut and his ears ringing.

It was only then, his breathing rasping and painfully rough, he peeled his eyes open to see the banner across the top. Page twenty-four, and the banner read 'Obituaries'. He swept the monochrome page up, flicking it open and bringing it close, his eyes seemingly unable to focus properly, blinded by unbidden tears.

He didn't know how long he stared at that page, but, eventually, he felt a small hand tenderly stroking his arm, and realized it was attempting to guide him to sit at the table, even though he was frozen still.

"Gabe? Sweetie, what's the matter?"

He whimpered as he heard Owen's worried voice, able to re-associate enough to let himself be pulled to a chair.

"I-" He still couldn't catch his breath, tears running freely, rasping desperately while Mrs Miggins bustled purposefully into the kitchen, collecting water in the kettle.

"It's the paper," she announced over her shoulder as she worked on making tea. "Something in the paper's upset him."

Owen looked down at the newspaper page clutched in Gabe's shaking hand and swore. He lowered himself and pulled Gabe into a firm hug until his breathing had evened out.

"Did you know?" Gabe asked, his eyes still watery.

"I did. Gray didn't think it was a good idea to tell you until you had some of your memories back." Owen's voice was low with guilt.

Gabe looked at the obituary, the single column picture gazing accusingly at him as he tried to make sense of, well, anything.

"He's dead?" he said redundantly.

"He is," Owen gestured awkwardly at the article. "Uh, I guess...I mean, you remember him now?"

How could he tell Owen how the sight of the picture had slammed memories into Gabe's consciousness in a way that his nightmares hadn't managed? The moment he'd seen it. How could explain the pain in a way that wouldn't destroy someone who didn't deserve that? Gabe was dizzy with it.

He sat then, with Owen looking on worriedly, his head in his hands as the memories seemed to slot into place, knocking everything he'd been thinking up until then off-course; re-ordering and re-prioritizing all the things he'd thought he knew. He didn't move, even when he heard Owen talking quietly on the phone, keeping his words too low for Gabe's ears, not that he'd have chosen to strain to hear them. There was too much of everything else to worry about.

His breathing was even again by the time Mrs Miggins brought over the cup of tea with some sugary biscuits that she informed him he had no choice but to eat. The tea was sugary, too, and with enough milk that it was already at drinking temperature.

Owen returned, thrusting his phone into his pocket. "How are you feeling?"

Gabe scoffed at the trite words, though that made Owen breath out a sigh that sounded relieved.

"I know. But it's relevant. You just got a shock. You're remembering things?"

Gabe nodded, examining the backs of his hands. His skin looked a little dry. He should moisturize.

"Okay, can you use your words?"

Gabe was aware Owen was worried, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Do you want to know more?"

Gabe couldn't resist that. "When did he die?"

"The coroner thinks it was when you came to hospital. The same day."

That was weeks ago. But the paper was from a week ago.

"And how?"

"They don't precisely know." Owen looked painfully uncertain. "They, um, pulled him out of the river. Last week. They haven't been able to say anything definitive. It wasn't, it wasn't pretty."

The emotions Gabe was feeling were distanced, muted, like they were wrapped in cotton wool.

"I'm okay," he said finally, when he felt as though the silence had become just that bit too awkward to leave alone anymore. He wasn't okay. Not by a long way, but it was about all he could do so far.

Owen had to leave for work even though it was obvious he didn't want to go, but Mrs Miggins stayed with him, providing so much tea that he thought he'd drown, though it did manage to keep him calm. 

A/N: well, about time, I reckon. So Gabe now remembers all that horrible stuff from Arc 1. But the slightly better news is he can start to heal more actively now, get out, meet new people, ya know