PettyDreamer

****

Morpheus woke with the smell of french toast drifting into his room, and he eagerly bounced out of bed, energy coursing through him at the thought of food and warmth and fun and Hob.

He bounded through the doorway and into the kitchen, the pads on the bottom of his footie pajamas preventing him from sliding headlong into Hob, who had just turned around to set a plate of toast slathered in syrup down on the counter.

"Hey there little Dream" Hob said, his voice soft and a smile breaking over his face as he reached down to scoop Morpheus--arms already raised in expectation-- up into a warm hug.

"Long time no see"

Morpheus giggled at the joke, hugging Hob back and letting the happiness of the moment sink into him, chasing out the chill and aches and despair of the waking world.

"You ready for breakfast?"

Morpheus nodded eagerly and Hob set him down on his stool, legs dangling, swinging back and forth happily as he pulled the plate towards himself.

The food tasted better than anything he could ever remember eating in the waking world, even before--

Morpheus shook his head to sweep the thought away. He was safe here, he didn't have to think about any of that. Not here, not with Hob. The waking world couldn't touch him here, not here with Hob to keep him safe. Here he didn't have to worry about Mr. Burgess, his demands and threats and cruelty.

Here, he was just Hob's "Little Dream", not --

"...Morpheus?"

Morpheus dropped his fork to the floor, shock flooding through him as he stared at Hob, eyes wide as the man looked back at him, looking at him in a way Morpheus had never seen him look before.

"That is your name, right? Morpheus Aterenus?"

Morpheus felt the cold seeping back into him, starting in the pit of his stomach, turning the food he'd eaten to sand. What was happening? He felt himself nodding, though the rest of his body felt turned to stone.

"Morpheus, I know what's happened to you now, at least, I know that you were taken." Hob said in his soft, kind voice, his voice that usually made Morpheus feel so safe.

"I don't know how or why you started showing up in my dreams. But I want to help you sweetie. I know you don't talk, but if there's any way you can let me know where you are in the real world, please, tell me."

Ice shot straight up Morpheus's spine. No. No no no no he didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to remember that this place, his room, his toys, his time here with Hob, where he felt more at home than he ever had with his parents, wasn't real.

Why was this happening?

He'd made this Dream so he could be safe. And now it was all turning against him. Forcing him to remember, to bring the cold and the hunger and the dark here, here into the last refuge he had.

Morpheus must have started to cry without realizing, because his cheeks were wet and his body was shaking all over and he only noticed when Hob pulled him into a fierce hug and started wiping at his cheeks with his kind, soft hands.

"Oh honey, please please don't cry." Hob shushed, rocking Morpheus back and forth in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I know you must be so scared. But you're not alone anymore, ok? I'm here. I'm not going to leave you there I promise. I just need you to be brave for me, just for this, and I'll be brave the rest of the way ok?"

Hob kept up a steady stream of encouragement and apologies and promises of safety, of rescue, and all the while he kept Morpheus cradled against his chest, secure and warm, until his sobs finally subsided, leaving Morpheus feeling worn and heavy and so so tired.

As tired and worn as he felt when awake.

Could Hob really mean it? Could he really find a way to rescue him?

But--Hob was just a dream. A dream Morpheus had made to escape…but then, Morpheus's dreams had never been just dreams.

After so many disappointments in his life, including the misguided hope for friends and adventure that had gotten him taken in the first place, did he dare hope for Hob to be able to help him, to be real?

Morpheus clutched at Hob, grounding himself in the safety and peace he'd felt here, in this dream place, over the last few weeks, as he tried to quiet his heart and mind, thinking over what to do.

He thought about what he knew of where he was. He'd heard other people talking to Mr. Burgess, and him shouting at them. He knew he was still in Sussex from some of the places they'd mentioned, Alex had told him the name of the house once, "Fawney Rig", in a rare moment when they'd had some time to themselves, before Mr. Burgess came down and yelled at the older boy for "consorting with The Freak'"

That had been the day…that was the day Mr. Burgess had torn up Jessamy.

He'd been so angry that Morpheus had -almost- talked to Alex, instead of him.

That had been the day that had started the dreams, the day that had brought him to Hob.

If he told Hob what he knew, would it be enough?

Could the nightmare of his waking life finally be over?

Morpheus hadn't spoken in over a month now, he wasn’t sure he still could….but, he wanted to try.

He wanted to believe that Hob could do it, could rescue him. If anyone could, it would be Hob.

He took a deep, deep breath, and in a small voice as cracked and hoarse as broken pavement he whispered:

"I-I'm at F-fawney Rig in, S-s-ussex. Mr. B-burgess has me in-in the cellar--"

He broke off to cough, retching at the pain the words caused in his throat--

But he didn't have time to cough, as just then the dream began to collapse around them.

The roof went flying off above their heads, the walls tumbled down, and furniture--the bookcases full of Morpheus's picture books, the comfortable chair Hob sat with him in to read them, the toybox full of all his wonderful toys--all went flying up into the swirling void that opened all around them, sucking up everything.

Including Morpheus.

"Hob!!" Morpheus cried out, clutching at the man as tightly as his small fingers could.

"Hold on Morpheus!" Hob called back over the crashing swell of noise, clutching him to his chest so tightly Morpheus thought he might crack, but he didn't want Hob to loosen his hold even a little bit, clinging onto him even tighter.

"Don't worry, don't worry sweetie I got you! I'll find you dove, you were so brave. Just hang on, I'll find you I promise!!"

And with that promise ringing in his ears, Morpheus woke up.

Cold, hungry, alone in the dark.

He didn't even have enough energy left to cry.

***

Hob didn't waste a moment even changing out of his pajamas. The moment he woke up he Googled "Fawney Rig, Sussex, Burgess". And instantly got a match. Lucky for him the house was old enough to be known by the name alone. He set the directions into his phone, and then the only things he wasted time on was making a perfunctory call to the police--he didn't plan on waiting for them--then grabbing his shoes, his keys, and his handgun.

As he sped down the road, he shot up a prayer to any deity or cosmic power he thought might be of any use, regardless of actual belief in them, to give him green lights all the way, and that he wouldn't be too late.

Someone must have been listening, that or he just had insanely good luck, he wasn’t going to be picky about as, as in and hours time he was kicking in the door of one Roderick Burgess of Fawney Rig.

Burgess, for whatever sort of occult games he thought he was playing, had evidently never found a spell to prevent one from being bludgeoned into unconsciousness by the handle of a gun.

Hob had been tempted to use it properly, to send it through the coward's skull. But with the police on their way he didn't want to risk being brought in for murder, no matter how well deserved. And he wanted this bastard's deeds brought to light, to make sure he hadn't got any other children shut up somewhere.

From the way the man's cronies had fled, and his own son was eager to help Hob find the basement, he didn't think the police would have any trouble getting testimony against him.

The heavy iron door swung open with a groan, revealing a dark cavernous room, in the center of which, surrounded by a shining circle drawn on the ground, huddled up into a ball with his back turned to the doorway, lay Morpheus.

Hob was at his side in an instant, scuffing the circle as Alex had told him to do, and scooping the tiny form up in his arms before he even realized he'd done so.

Morpheus weighed practically nothing, and he was so pale, gray almost. With sunken cheeks and limp ragged looking hair, and eyes that were glossed over, not seeming to see Hob as he gently pushed the hair from his face, nothing like the bright eyed, tossle topped child of his dreams.

But it was still his Little Dream, he would know him anywhere.

"Morpheus?" Hob said softly, keeping the child close, willing his body warmth to soak into the tiny body, so cold and still. "Morpheus, can you hear me?"

There was a long, silent pause, long enough that Hob felt his heart start to clench in true fear that he had, in fact, been too late--

And then Morpheus curled closer, a deep, rattling sigh issuing from his tiny chest, and he blinked, looking up like he wasn't sure he wasn't still dreaming, and whispered in the tiniest voice:

"Hob?"

Hob thought he might cry from joy.

"Yes, it's me sweetheart. It's me, I'm here. It's over. It's all over. You're safe."

****

It wasn't quite all over, of course.

There had been police interviews--which Hob had had to lie for, he wasn’t about to tell them he'd dreamed about how to find Morpheus-- and Morpheus had been taken to the hospital and Hob had had to fight doctors to stay with him, never leaving his side even to sleep.

And then Morpheus had been taken back to his parents.

His parents, who had sent their solicitor to pick their missing son up from the hospital instead of deigning to come themselves.

And then there had been months and months of Hob putting together a court case--helped by friends of Johanna, on both sides of the law-- to have Morpheus, and really the rest of his siblings as well, put under the care of those who would actually care about them.

(He was happy to see that young Alex had already been taken in by much better people, even seemed to have found himself a little boyfriend.)

Morpheus had visited him, in those long months, in dreams. Their little dream flat had been rebuilt, but now it contained several other rooms, as Morpheus began to introduce his siblings to Hob, pulling them into the dreams as well.

His dreams got rather hectic after that

Olethros was possibly the most accident prone toddler Hob had met, and Hob was constantly cleaning up after him, but he was also a huge sweetheart and loved to color and beamed like the sun whenever Hob put his unintelligible scribbles up on the fridge in the dream kitchen.

The three babies were a handful, Epithymia was fussy and Aponoia always cried and Euphoria, was well, a bit of a literal whirlwind.

But they all calmed down and looked content as could be the moment Hob gave them even a bit of attention and a hug, it broke his heart a bit just how surprised they always seemed to be to receive something that simple.

Portos had told him not to worry about the court case, all would be as it should be. Hob thought he'd never met a more morosely optimistic ten year old, but did feel strangely comforted by this pronouncement, and was happy to help the boy with the window garden he was cultivating in his dream room.

Teulute and Hob had gotten on famously, and together in the dream they'd reconstructed Jessamy for Morpheus, who hardly ever put the bird down. Apparently she was unable to create the doll again in the real world, but Morpheus didn't seem to mind, as long as he could have her at night.

Hob when he had the time worked on something for him to have in the waking world too though. His sewing skills weren't the best but with Rachel to help him it didn't turn out horrible.

Then suddenly, about a year into the proceedings, things took a turn. For the better. Hob's luck seemed to increase exponentially, he got a raise that gave him hope he'd actually be able to both pay for his case and afford to care for seven children. His lawyer found some startling evidence of different illegal ventures the Aterenus parents had both been involved in, and their lawyers all seemed to start having nervous breakdowns or sudden changes of heart about their profession and quitting to join the Peace Corp.

Coincidentally Olethros and the Twins seemed to be figuring out what their Gifts were at the same time.

And in the end…Hob had won.

Turns out, they hardly even needed the illegal evidence. When your six year old son gets kidnapped and you give up looking for him a month in and then say your reasons for doing so were that "he'd always been a selfish, willful child" it really doesn't win you much favor with the jury.

By the end of the year, the seven new Gadling siblings were happily being tucked in at their new, smaller but much warmer and happier, home.

And as Hob tucked Morpheus into bed, his present, a hand stitched raven Morpheus had named Matthew snuggled up with him, Hob couldn't imagine feeling happier in his entire life.

"Goodnight sweetheart"

He whispered, placing a kiss on Morpheus's forehead, "Sweet dreams, I'll be here when you wake up"