Archive of Our Own

The pub wasn't one she tended to frequent, though she knew a lot about it thanks to the magical aura it gave off. She knew well enough who she'd find there, so she entered and immediately found herself soothed by the warm lights and comfortable atmosphere of a well loved community space.

She had barely taken two steps into the New Inn when Robert Gadling noticed her, and beckoned her over to a table he was sitting at surrounded by paperwork.
“Johanna! Good to see you again! Come on over, here let me get you a drink!” Johanna hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by his merry demeanour, which seemed almost inappropriate given all that had recently gone down.
“Sally! Here be a love and get my friend a glass of whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.” Hob called to the bartender and gestured for Johanna to order.
“Um, just a whisky. Straight. No ice. Thanks.” The bartender smiled and nodded and went to make up her drink.
“You seem oddly happy. Can’t say I was expecting that.” She said. When they had met and spoken at the wake, he was devastated, a complete mess. Johanna was dealing her own mixed emotions about the death of their mutual friend, but it was clear to her that Hob cared very deeply about Morpheus.
Hob huffed and shook his head.
“Don’t mistake my greeting for happiness Jo. I’m grieving, just like you.”
She sat down opposite him at the table.
“Sorry. I’m just still on edge. It’s hardly even sunk in yet.”
“It’s a lot to accept that’s for sure. I don’t think either of us ever thought we would outlast him.”
She nodded and found her eyes growing warm with unshed tears. But she blinked them away before they could fall. Refusing to let Hob see the extent of her feelings.
“I’m just so bloody angry about the whole thing. He was a pain in the ass at times, but he didn’t deserve to go like that. I tried to save him… but he… he wouldn’t…” She broke off unable to get out the words.
“I get it Jo. You don’t need to explain.”
She sniffed quietly and waited as Sally delivered her drink. Before she could think she swigged back the whole glass and revelled in the sting of warmth as it rushed down her throat.
“Easy there love, I don’t wanna be wiping you off the floor later” Hob joked.
“I can handle my whisky.” She spat.
“Alright. I meant no offence.”
Jo winced and murmured an apology.
“Look Jo, I’m happy to see you again. At the wake, it was good to find other people who knew him and cared for him, who don’t exist in completely different realms to this one! Even if you did give me a fright when we met because you look so much like your ancestor its almost creepy.” Hob chuckled.
“Yeah… So he told me. I thought for a while he might have shagged her, but turns out she was head over heels for his son… literally. Sorta…”
Hob blinked.
“Oh…kay. Well you learn something new every day!" He laughed. “The thing is, I called you because I wanted to talk about him. I figured maybe you would too?”
Jo sighed. She wasn’t sure she was best placed to lend an ear to one of Morpheus’ grieving friends? Lovers? She wasn’t entirely sure about their relationship but nothing surprised her nowadays. She was technically now dating a literal nightmare with teeth for eyes who was created and sent to her as a parting gift from the Dream Lord himself. It was all very odd and confusing.
”Maybe I just wanted someone to tell my story to, now that he’s gone.” He said.
“Seems only right.” She replied. “He was the Prince of Stories. What better way to honour him.”
Hob smiled.
“I knew you’d understand.” He said.
“Go on then Robbie.” She said as she took a sip of the fresh glass of whisky that had just been placed in front of her by the attentive bar staff. “Tell me your story.”
Hob nodded and began his tale.
“This story begins a few days after the wake. I don’t know about you, but I woke up with tears streaming down my face feeling like someone had carved a hole in my chest while I slept. It took me a few days just to pull myself together and leave my flat, and when I finally did it felt all wrong. The weather was too fine, the sun too bright, people all around me seemed too damn happy. It made me angry. The universe had lost this great power, someone so fucking special that everyone and everything should have been mourning him. I wanted rainstorms and grey clouds and misery, and not getting that was like a slap in the face.”
He paused and took a sip of his drink. Johanna didn’t say anything, but she understood exactly how he felt, because it was how she was feeling too.
“Anyway I didn’t get very far on my first venture out into the world again. Found myself walking a very familiar path just 5 minutes down the road from here. I don’t suppose he ever told you about our centennial meeting place? The old White Horse Tavern?”
“The dilapidated old building down on Crowleys Wharf? I’m surprised they didn’t tear that down when I was still in school.” Johanna had often wondered about the place. It had been listed as a Heritage Site back in the late 90s and there were all kinds of rumours about it, claims that the likes of Chaucer and Shakespeare had frequented the tavern as well as old wives tales that it was a meeting place for the Devil to make deals with unsuspecting patrons. Though she knew there were some truths there, including that Morpheus had first met her ancestor there. Hob smirked and nodded.
“There’s more truth to the rumours than you’d think.” He said proudly.
“Sounds like you maybe had some involvement in them.” She replied whilst taking another sip of her whisky. Hob laughed.
“Yeah you could say that! Though I never lied! Except for all that bollocks about the Devil! That was just people misunderstanding our mutual dearly departed thanks to his terrifying gaze!”
Johanna couldn’t help herself. She laughed into her whisky. If anyone was likely to be mistaken for the actual Devil by the God-fearing general public, it was definitely Morpheus. She could imagine his reaction to such an accusation so clearly. The raised eyebrow and slight purse of his lips as he stared unimpressed at whoever dared to accuse him. Before saying something absolutely absurd to any normal person like ‘I assure you I am no devil, and Lucifer Morningstar is fair haired and beautiful as any angel. You would know if you were in their presence.’ Johanna basked in the thought before the memories of his recent death set in again, and the ache in her chest came back with a force. She felt her eyes grow warm again and took another strong swig of whisky to stop the tears from flowing. Looking up at Hob, she found him staring at her sadly.
“I miss him too.” he said sympathetically.
“Just get on with your story.” she snapped at him.
Hob nodded and continued.

…
A few weeks ago…

Hob stood outside the dilapidated remains of the White Horse Tavern and stared at it gloomily. So many centuries, so many memories, and it still wasn’t enough. First he lost the tavern, and now he had lost Mo- he had lost- no. He couldn’t even think it. The grief was still too fresh, too raw.
He hadn’t set foot in the tavern since he had boarded it up himself in the early 90s. He fought tooth and nail to save the old girl, but in the end even his vast funds had their limits, and refurbishments would have cost far too much. Even after getting it listed, the grants from the Heritage Trust still weren’t enough. The building was as good as condemned now, and wasn’t safe for entry.
Resolving himself to his grief, he unlocked the padlock and unchained the construction fence, slipping through and relocking it behind him. He approached the looming building and quickly found what looked like a weakened board on one of the ground floor windows. It took very little effort to rip it off and climb inside. The original glass windows had all been smashed and destroyed decades ago.

Inside the dark and dusty tavern was as empty and sad as it looked on the outside. Hob stood in the centre of what once was a thriving pub filled to the brim with patrons going about their daily lives. Drinking merrily, complaining about the state of the country, making ridiculous claims about not dying…

Hob chuckled to himself as he approached the old bar and ran his hand over the dusty surface. Sighing as he let the weight of six centuries of memories fill his senses.

There was an old bench seat and small table still remaining by one of the far walls, near the chimney place. Hob walked over and sat down, getting himself as comfortable as he could as he looked around the old building.
“If only these walls could talk” he said out loud to himself.
“I suspect they could certainly tell a few stories.” came an answering voice that made Hob jump up and screech in terror.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you.” the voice said whilst Hob frantically searched for its owner.
“What? Who is that?” He answered shakily.
A figure appeared from behind the other side of the bar, dressed all in black. A young woman with dark skin and long curly hair. She had a silver ankh around her neck. She was remarkably familiar but Hob couldn’t quite place her.
“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked, dodging his question.
“Sure” Hob replied, sinking back into his seat. “Though you should be careful. No one is supposed to be here. It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful.”
She walked over and sat next to him on the bench seat. He eyed her suspiciously.
“You’re not here just for the thrill of breaking into an abandoned building are you?”
The mystery woman laughed.
“Not really no.”
Hob nodded.
“I know you don’t I? We’ve met before.”
“Many times yes.”
He looked at her again. She was beautiful, and had a warming presence about her which was rare to come across, especially these days. She looked back at him with kind eyes that seemed to know everything about him, all his secrets, and deep within something far more terrifying lay in wait. Hob gasped.
“You were there. You gave a speech. You’re his sister.”
The woman smiled sadly.
“Why are you here?” He asked hesitantly. He knew exactly which sister this was as well, and the thought unnerved him greatly.
“I’m here because I thought I owed it to you. Or maybe I owed it to my brother.”
Hob choked back a sob.
“So it’s really true then? He’s dead.”
She didn't respond, but her look of sorrow was enough confirmation for Hob.
“Fuck. That stubborn foolish bastard! I TOLD him to come to me if he needed help. I knew he was in trouble but-” Hob caught himself. “Sorry. He was your brother, and I shouldn’t say things like that. It’s just that I wanted-”
Hob paused as the woman reached out and touched his arm. Her hand was warm.
“You loved him. I understand.”
Hob choked at the truth of her words, finally voiced out loud. He sobbed again and felt his eyes well up with unshed tears.
“I never- I never got the chance to tell him.”
“He was the King of Dreams Hob. Deep down, he knew.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse to be honest.”
He leaned back on the bench seat and looked up towards the dark rafters of the old tavern. Partly to keep the tears at bay, and partly to find a distraction to the whirlwind of emotions in his core.
“This was our place you know. Mine and his. It almost broke me when it closed down. I did everything in my power to save the old girl. It all seems rather pointless now.” He sobbed.
Dream’s sister, whose name he was too afraid to even think of at the moment, looked around at the empty shell of the White Horse Tavern.
“I was here when you first met. I encouraged my brother to seek you out.”
Hob blinked at her.
“Why?”
“Because he needed a friend, and a little human perspective” She chuckled softly. “I thought it would help him.”
Hob wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“I thought I was a bet between the two of you.”
“That too.” she laughed. “But it was always more than that. I hope you know that Hob.”
Hob sighed sadly.
“I thought I had him figured out just over a century ago. Told him he needed a friend, that he was lonely. He didn’t take it too well.”
“I’m not surprised if you phrased it like that.”
Hob laughed. She had a point there.
“What I should have said back then was that I was lonely, and that I thought people like us, the ones who stay around a lot longer than everyone else, that we needed each other. When someone becomes the one constant thing in your life among the ocean of chaos, you sure do grow fond of them. I never considered that there would ever come a time that he wouldn’t be there.”
She smiled sadly, but didn’t say anything. Hob sighed. “I know why you’re here really. You want to know if I’m finally ready to call it a day? Am I right?”
“Kind of” She replied.
“I don’t know… Death’s a funny thing. I used to think it was a big sudden thing, like a huge owl that would sweep down out of the night and carry you off. I don’t anymore. I think it’s a slow thing. Like a thief that comes into your house day after day, taking a little thing here and a little thing there, and one day you walk around your house and there’s nothing there to keep you. Nothing to make you want to stay,”
He looked down at the dusty floor of the White Horse Tavern and finally let the tears fall from his eyes.
“Lots of little deaths, until the last big one.”
Death - for he had accepted that was who she was - kept gently stroking his arm in comfort.
“Perhaps losing him was my big one eh?” He admitted, voice breaking as he cried.
“It’s an idea i’ve heard before,” Death answered softly, “though I can’t speak for my brother's role in it.”
Hob huffed and sat back again, wiping his face with his hand. He sniffed and glanced over at her.
“Say I did choose to give it all up now, what happens then? Will you tell me?”
Death smiled kindly.
“What do you believe Hob?”
“Me? I s’pose I’m with old Kipling. You heard that one?”
Death nodded and recited the poem. It was not the first time she had invoked those words to bring comfort to a person in distress, and it wouldn't be the last.
“They will come back, come back again, as long as the red Earth rolls. He never wasted a tree or a leaf. Why should he squander souls? Is that the one you’re thinking of?”
Hob grinned through his tears.
“That’s the one. So is that the truth of it? Do we come back again?” he paused, then added “do your kind come back again?”
Death was quiet for a moment and Hob thought he saw a glimmer of her own grief hidden in her eyes.
“It doesn’t work the same way for my family Hob,” she said sadly. “But for you, you can find out.”
Hob stood up then, and ran his hand over the old stonework of the fireplace as he contemplated the choices in front of him.
“How will it happen? What about my body?” he asked.
“You won’t feel anything and you probably won’t be found for a while, not if you remain in here. Eventually though someone will find you and determine you had a heart attack, or a stroke and that’ll be that.”
Hob nodded and looked back up at his surroundings.
“There’d be an awful neatness to dying here wouldn’t there? Like coming full circle.” he said thoughtfully. “The place where it all began. It’s funny, I always thought he’d be here, when I finally decided to go. But I guess the symbolism of it all still stands.”
Death reached out her hand slowly.
“If that’s what you want Hob I can give it to you. Just take my hand.”
There certainly was an allure to the offer. She was such a comforting presence, that reaching out seemed like the easiest thing in the world. He almost did, except at that moment he caught a glint in her eye that made him pause. In that blink of a second he was watching himself from an outsiders perspective, as if he and Death were performing in a play. The Hob in the audience screamed at him to stop, demanding that he not take Death’s hand. The force of the feeling was so intense that he stumbled backwards. Eyes wide in surprise as Death lowered her hand. In yet another blink-and-you-miss-it moment, he could have sworn she almost looked relieved? Slowly, Hob swallowed and shook his head.
“I appreciate the offer my lady, I really do. But I don’t think so.” His mouth had gone dry and his heart was thudding in his chest as he spoke. “I’m not ready to die today, not yet. Maybe not ever.”

There was a change in the air as Hob felt his confidence in his decision grow. He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if all of reality had just let out a collective sigh of relief. Which was of course absurd. Death didn’t say anything. She just watched him with a small smile that held far more knowledge than Hob could ever imagine. Yet he still felt he had to explain himself.
“The truth is, I feel like I’d be letting him down if I accepted your offer now. Is that strange?”
Death shook her head.
“It isn’t strange at all Hob. Not at all.”
She reached up and kissed his cheek, and when she pulled back she had a wide smile and a happy glint in her eye. Hob furrowed his brow at her clear delight.
“Good Luck.” she whispered. Then she was gone.

…
Back at the New Inn Johanna raised an eyebrow as Hob paused and took a sip of his drink.
“So you had the chance to finally give this all up, but you refused again?”
“Yeah. See, it didn’t feel right. I felt like if I agreed to go with Death, that i’d be letting HIM down somehow ya know? I’m keeping so many people alive in my memories, in my dreams, that it seemed only right that I keep going for him too.”
“I suppose that makes sense. So is that the lesson you wanna teach me then? Keep going? No matter what? You know I’m not a suicide case Hob?”
“No thats not what I’m saying at all. I haven’t finished the story yet. Because that night, I dreamed...”

…
The beach stretched on to the horizon. Ahead of him, a deep blue ocean spanned as far as he could see. The waves gently lapped the shore and sung their soothing melodies into the wind. The sky was painted in beautiful pinks and purples, oranges and golds. Hob sat with his feet sunk into warm golden sand and sighed happily. What a lovely place.
He could tell someone was approaching, but he did not feel alarmed, only safe, at peace, and happy. The person sat down next to him in the sand. They were draped in black and felt cold where their arm pressed up against him. Without looking, Hob knew he had been joined by Morpheus, and he was surprised that he was there, as if something was niggling in the back of his mind that this was no longer possible.
“Hello you.” Hob greeted him. Morpheus only nodded in response, keeping his gaze on the horizon.
They sat there in companionable silence for a short while, but the niggling feeling in Hob’s mind wouldn’t rest, and suddenly he remembered. Morpheus was dead.
Hob spun around to face him but Morpheus did not flinch or turn to look at him. His profile looked the same as ever.
“But you’re dead. Aren’t you?” He choked, and then it became clear. “This is just a dream.”
Morpheus nodded.
Hob huffed a small laugh.
“So you’re not really here. You’re just my grief. Funny. I could usually always tell when it was really you. For a moment there I was certain it was.”
Morpheus remained still. But his mouth twitched into a small sad smile.
“I suppose you being here is me wanting a chance to say goodbye properly. There was so much I wish I had said the last time we spoke. Would it be alright? To tell you now? Since I won’t get the chance again?”
Hob could feel the desperation behind his words, now that he was aware this was a dream, it seemed only fitting to work through his feelings the only way he could. His therapist would be proud of him.
Morpheus finally turned to look at him.
“You may say to me whatever you wish my friend. I will be glad to hear it.”
Hob let out a shaky breath and looked at the being sat next to him. He was just as he remembered. Beautiful, ethereal, with eyes so intense they set your heart all a flutter. He gathered himself and said what he needed to say.
“The thing is, for far too long you became a sort of, beacon in the dark for me. Over the centuries during the more difficult times I would think of you, and wonder what you would say, how you would respond, to whatever my situation was at the time. I used to imagine you telling me to keep going, to push on through, that no matter how bad things got, you would always be waiting there for me at the end of the century.
Hob took in a staggered breath and struggled to hold back the weight of his emotion.
“In a forever changing world, you became my one constant. You became something precious, something worth living for. And I, I became a better person because of you.
Morpheus still hadn’t looked at him, but Hob watched him closely, and he saw as his lips parted in a small gasp. It spurred Hob on with renewed confidence.
“The truth is, I’ve lived a lot of lives, and I’ve had a lot of loves, whose love I have cherished all these ages of my life. But none of them held a candle to you. As much as I only ever wanted your friendship and never expected more, I need you to know that I have loved you for longer than any human lifespan. And I will continue to love you, until the end of time, or until Death has no choice but to take me because there is no universe left for me to live in. If you had ever wanted me in that way, I would have gladly given myself to you completely.”
Hob let his tears fall freely as the weight of his confession seemed to settle into the air around them. It was a lot more flowery than he ever would have said had he not been dreaming, but dreams are strange things, and without any waking barriers, it is easier to speak your hearts truth. The ocean and the breeze fell silent, as if the beach itself was waiting with baited breath.
Morpheus reached out to touch Hob’s cheek. He wiped away a tear, and smiled.
“Do not weep for me my friend. Your love has not been in vain.” Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Hob’s lips. It was chaste and soft, and warm, and felt more real than anything his mind could have possibly dreamed up.
When they broke apart, Morpheus stood and reached out a hand which Hob took gladly. He felt solid, and strong. Hob’s eyes were still wet with tears but his heart felt lighter than it had in days. He looked at his companion and saw that he was smiling, and in his eyes he saw distant stars, much like the star that had formed when the boat fell over the waterfall into the night sky and shot across the heavens at the end of the wake. For a moment he was certain it was the same star that appeared in his eyes, but he was too busy basking in that smile to give it much thought. Instead, boldened by the kiss, he leapt forward, and flung his arms around his companion, burying his head into Morpheus’ neck. Morpheus hesitated at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around Hob’s back, and Hob felt the tension in his body relax as he sank into the embrace. Tears still falling down his face and into the curve of Morpheus’ neck.
“Hob Gadling. You should compose yourself.” came the weary voice beside his ear. He sighed and pulled back.
“Sorry. I just figured I probably wouldn’t get another chance to do that either.”
Morpheus flashed another rare small smile. “You don’t know that for certain.”
Hob furrowed his brow at that, but was distracted then by another booming voice from further down the beach.
“Hello there good fellows! Come now! We cannot linger here all day!”
The owner of the booming voice was a tall muscular man with a kind face and dark beard, who looked oddly familiar. Hob could have sworn he knew this man for a time as a street artist in Paris back in the mid 1800s, so why he would dream him up now was utterly baffling. He was carrying a long sword in a sheath at his side, which didn’t really fit with the casual modern jeans and plaid shirt.
Morpheus had also turned to look towards the stranger, and waved him off as if they were familiar.
“It is almost time for us to leave Hob Gadling. The hour is late, and you will soon wake.”
He took Hob’s hands in his and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together in a far more intimate gesture than Hob could ever have imagined from his oldest friend. Hob swore he could feel his heart skip a beat at the touch.
“Rest easy my friend.” Morpheus continued, “Much will become clear in dawn's first light.”
Hob blinked back his tears and nodded, accepting the cryptic words but unwilling to pull away.
“Come now. Time is waiting.” The stranger said with a laugh, clearly unphased by the intimacy of the scene in front of him. Hob thought that even stranger. Time didn’t wait at all. But then, dreams were often full of nonsense.
“Will I ever see you again?” Hob asked in a final desperate bid to hold on to this moment. “You can’t tell me no. You know I won’t believe you. I’ll never believe that.”
“Perhaps.” Morpheus replied. “Stranger things have happened in dreams, and in waking hours.” He gave Hob’s hands a final squeeze and let go. Turning and walking towards his tall companion.
As Hob watched the two of them walk away from him down the beach he felt himself slipping back into waking. Grasping at the final threads of the dream, he heard that hypnotic soothing voice echo through his mind.
“Fare thee well Hob Gadling. Until we meet again.”
…
Back at the New Inn, Hob took a sip of his whisky. He hadn’t shared all the details of the dream with Johanna, but he hoped he had shared enough that she may be comforted once she worked it out. Johanna studied him from across the table.
“That was quite the dream Robbie.” she said, sounding skeptical.
“Yes I suppose it was.” he answered.
They sat in silence for another few minutes before Johanna sighed and leaned back in her seat.
“So was it really him?” she asked finally.
Hob wasn’t sure how to answer her.
“I don’t know for sure. At times it seemed so vivid, so obviously him, but I think thats just wishful thinking. Maybe he planned it? Set up a dream of himself to comfort me after he was gone?”
Johanna raised an eyebrow.
“You think Dream had the foresight to send you a romantic sunset dream of him so you could work out your regret and grief, before he died?”
Hob laughed.
“Well when you put it like that! No! I don’t know Jo, I guess all i’m saying is that I got to work through a few things in my dream and it’s helped. I guess I hoped it might help you too.”
“Sorry to disappoint Robbie, but the King of Dreams never thought to send me a dream of him to sooth my grief. Then again, I think he would have known I wouldn’t have appreciated it. The last dream of mine he turned up in was a fucking sex dream. He still owes me the end of that.”
Hob laughed.
“Clearly you and I had rather different relationships with him.”
“Yes. I cared about him, but found him annoying and enjoyed irritating him. Whereas you were in love with him.”
They both took a sip of their drinks again and the air sat thick and heavy between them with more unsaid sorrows.
“I'm sorry Robbie. Thank you for telling me your story, but it doesn’t change anything does it? He’s still dead. We still grieve. Eventually we move on. At least we try to.”
Hob nodded at her.
“Its okay Jo. I just thought you could do with seeing a friendly face and having a drink in his honour.” Hob raised his glass and Jo mirrored him. Pausing as they both spared a thought for Morpheus, then each taking another sip. They sat in silence for a while longer, each stuck in their own thoughts.
"That's not the only reason I called you here though”. Hob finally said. Johanna furrowed her brow.
“Oh? What then?”
“I wanted to give you this.” He pushed over one of the documents that sat on top of the pile of paperwork scattered around him. Johanna glanced down at the title. It was a contract to hand over the deeds of the tavern. Johanna gasped.
“Robbie? What is this?” She asked him.
“I’m going away Jo. The arrangements have mostly all been made, but I needed to do something about the tavern. I can’t just leave it to eventually go to probate, it would end up in the hands of some dodgy American development firm who would destroy it for profit.”
Johanna huffed.
“So you’re giving it to me?!” she said with disbelief in her voice.
“I don’t know anyone else as deserving of it. Nor anyone else who understands the importance of it.”
Hob reached out and took her hand in his.
“Listen Jo, this place,its a temple to friendship, to loyalty, and to dreams. There’s magic built into the walls of this place. You know that, you complained about how obvious it was the first time you stepped over the threshold!”
Johanna laughed.
“Well yeah, any magic user between here and Oxford could sense the power radiating from this place. You’re not very subtle about it.”
Hob chuckled.
“Had to get a message to him somehow didn’t I?”
Johanna smiled and squeezed his hand.
“What about you then? Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’m not entirely sure if I’m honest, but its something I have to do. I don’t expect I’ll be back any time soon, not in this lifetime at least.”
Johanna sighed.
“So you’re giving me a tavern, and I’m never going to see you again?”
“I’m sorry that its all so sudden. It just seemed right. With your knowledge, your history… Please keep it safe and standing tall for all those seeking a space to remember him. I built it for him. I won’t have him forgotten, at least not under this roof.”
“Well I’m flattered Robbie, but I really didn’t want to lose you too, not now. We’ve only really just met.”
Hob smiled sadly at her. He reached out and brushed a loose hair behind her ear.
“Cheer up Chuck, I’ll still be out there somewhere. Besides, you’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of you yet. And don’t pretend you don’t have a fancy dream man of your own out there.”
Johanna laughed.
“He’s more of a nightmare. Trust me.”
They sat there for a bit longer, going through the paperwork as Jo meticulously signed all the places that needed her signature. Once that was done Hob gathered them up and placed them in an envelope, addressed to a prestigious London law firm, and stood up.
“I’ll get these sent off to my lawyers first thing in the morning. You’ll be all set. Everything’s been sorted.” he said.
“When are you leaving?” she asked him.
“First thing in the morning, once I’ve posted this.” he answered.
Johanna gasped and stood up to pull him into a hug.
“And I really can’t know where you’re going?” she muttered into the curve of his neck. Hob chuckled and held her tightly.
“You never know Jo, our paths may cross again one day, or perhaps in another lifetime.”
She pulled back and grinned.
“Well I hope you find whatever it is you are looking for out there.”
Hob smiled.
“Me too.” as they walked outside into the bright sunshine of high summer, Hob turned back to her with a knowing smirk.
“There was one other detail from the dream that might interest you.” He said. Johanna raised an eyebrow.
“His eyes. In the waking world, they were always blue. You said he had visited you in dreams before?”
Johanna nodded.
“I’ve dreamed of him a lot in my long life. But usually it was just a dream of him that my mind created. Those dream versions always had his blue eyes. But the real him, on the rare occasion he visited me in my dreams, his eyes were like stars.”
“That’s right. They look right through you, like they can see into your soul, and beyond.” She agreed.
“It’s the only way I could really tell the difference between the dream version of him my mind created, and the real him.” Hob continued. “So it’s funny, how in that last dream I had of him, after the wake when everyone had said goodbye and it was made so clear that he was dead, that those stars were back in his eyes, staring at me like he held the entire universe within them.”
Johanna’s eyes widened as realisation hit her.
“I just thought that was strange. You know. The one time I thought it absolutely couldn’t be him… but those eyes… you don’t dream up eyes like that.”
Johanna knew what Hob meant all too well. She had also had dreams of Morpheus many times that weren’t really him, but when he did enter her dreams for real there was no avoiding his captivating gaze. That was something he couldn’t disguise, and if Hob’s last dream of Morpheus had those eyes… then surely… she parted her lips in a small gasp.
Hob smiled at her knowingly.
“Goodbye Johanna Constantine. It was lovely knowing you.”
With that Hob gave a little bow, turned around, and walked off down the street.
Johanna stood there for a few moments longer, watching him until he was out of view. Finally, she shook herself out, and laughed.
“That clever bastard!” she said to no one in particular, before walking away from the tavern with a smile on her face, basking in the sunlight of another glorious happy day.

Epilogue

In a kingdom made of dreams, a new king sits on his throne in contemplation. He fumbles with a large emerald that hangs around his neck, running long thin fingers over its many facets. He remembers the times when he was someone else. He remembers how he had kept secrets, even from himself. He does not know what those secrets were, but he can guess. He smiles.
…

Under the bright grecian sunshine, an immortal man barters with an elderly fisherman. The fisherman thinks he is foolish. He cannot take him to where he wants to go, there is nothing there after all, nothing but tiny abandoned islands with no docks with which to moor his boat. The immortal man (not that the fisherman knows that he is immortal) shakes his head and pulls out more euros. The fisherman sighs and takes his money, he needs it after all, and it’s not his fault if these silly tourists want to pay to be stranded on a rock in the middle of the Aegean sea.

…
In a park in London, a woman sits on a bench and feeds the pigeons. She wears a black vest top, black skinny jeans, and black boots. She has a large silver ankh around her neck. There are many people in the park, playing games, soaking in the rare English sunshine of high summer. None of them pay her any mind. She listens to the birds fluttering their wings and cooing excitedly at the food and remembers another time she sat here, remembers who she sat here with. She smiles.

…
An immortal man sits at the front of a small fishing boat and sighs happily as the wind rushes through his hair, the warmth of the Mediterranean sun shines down on his face and the salt sea smell in the air almost overwhelms his senses. Life is good. Life is about to be very good indeed. He opens his eyes as they approach the rocky islands ahead of them. High cliffs rising from the horizon. He smiles.

…
In a hall of endless mirrors, she paces through cold mists that swirl around her feet. The rats that nip at her skin are keeping particularly close today. She thinks of her brother, the one who died. She misses him, and she finally thinks she understands how her other siblings must have felt, after she died. She should go and visit her brother soon, she will make more of an effort with him this time, after all, they have something in common that none of their other siblings share. She remembers how he used to be, when he always had one foot firmly within her realm. A comforting presence that she became so used to feeling she at times forgot what it meant. Not anymore though. She doesn’t sense his presence here at all anymore. The thought makes her smile.
…
An immortal man jumps down onto a sandy beach surrounded by tall cliffs. The fisherman is muttering away in greek to himself. He probably assumes that the man cannot understand him, he chuckles to himself at how wrong that assumption is, but then again, he has made many a living on using peoples assumptions about him against them.
“It is alright my good man! I know where I am going from here. You can leave me now.” He says to the fisherman in perfect greek. The man blinks at him and nods his head. At least he is smart enough not to ask any more questions. He sets off towards the cliffs, looking for the hidden staircase that should be carved into the rocks.
…
At the threshold, within the chambers of a huge beating heart, the being known as Desire sits in an intricately carved plush red chair. Desire does not dwell on the past, they only consider the now. They look up at their gallery, where the sigils of their siblings sit within their frames. Desire’s eyes linger on the helm of Dream and for a moment feel a pain within their heart that seems to make the walls of their dwelling shiver. Desire blinks the moment away and moves on to focus on other sweeter things. They stretch themselves out and sense the many desires thrumming through the threshold, desires of creatures all across the universe. Soaking in the feelings, they don’t pay attention to individuals, and therefore miss the heady desires radiating from one particularly interesting immortal human, but then Desire never did pay too much attention to him, he may have been a delicious feast for them, were it not for their two older siblings leaving their marks all over him like hungry wolves. No, Desire kept a wide berth from one Hob Gadling, and they considered that a smart decision. They stretch out lavishly and smile.
…
The immortal man climbs the hidden staircase carved into the cliffside. It is not easy to find, but he knows where to look. With every step he grows steadily more nervous, and his heart thumps in his chest so hard he thinks it might burst through. But the sea breeze caresses his skin like the cool hands of a lover providing comfort and calm. The sun kisses his cheeks and the distant crash of waves speaks to him silent words of encouragement to keep climbing, to keep moving forward, for his destination is drawing closer.
…
A young woman sits on the curb outside of a nightclub in Sydney, Australia. She is curled up with her head and arms resting on her knees. She has had far too much to drink. Another young woman, who looks about the same age, appears next to her and sighs.
“Do you think the people who make the lights on the buildings worry about the birds?”
The drunk woman raises her head and blinks at her new companion.
“What?” she slurs. “I dunno… they sell cola.”
They are sitting within the glowing lights of a huge Coca Cola advertisement that casts everything around it in an eerie red glow.
“I just worry about the birds sometimes because of the bad light, the whats the word? The pollution! The light pollution! The birds need dark and I like birds, sometimes if I concentrate I can make little birds, but they usually just fly off and disappear or become more colours and I don’t like it when they turn back into colours,” she pauses and furrows her brow whilst the drunk girl stares at her in complete confusion. “My brother has a pet bird. One of those big black ones that talks. He’s funny… I can’t remember his name though, but I like him, he taught me how to drive and I am an excellent driver.
She pauses again and worries at the frayed netting of her stockings, tearing another hole.
"That was when my brother was someone else. I miss him, but he’s not as scary now. I get upset when I think about him too much, because he left me. That’s a secret I’m not supposed to know. But I figured it out. That he can be dead and not dead and my brother and not my brother all at the same time…Oh, I’m not supposed to talk about that. But you won't say anything will you Britney."
She flashes a grin at Britney, her drunk companion. Britney blinks at her, but she has already forgotten what was said. Something about birds and dead brothers. Its not like she has anyone to tell anyway. She has been struggling for months, and she shouldn’t drink because it messes with her meds, but she can’t help it, the drinking, the clubbing, it all helps her, but she feels herself slipping every day. For some reason the presence of this strange girl with multicoloured hair soothes her, and she lets herself slip a little further into Delirium's realm. Delirium smiles.
…
In a place far away from Earth, where the vast plains stretch far beyond the horizon, and diamonds hang in the sky like clouds, a lone being lies among the purple grass. He thinks of everything he told his brother, and how desperately he had hoped that some of it would stick. He remembers the beach fondly. Remembers their embrace. He remembers how he had spoken with his new brother before that. Oh he'll figure it out eventually. No doubt his elder siblings already have. He laughs at the thought, a great booming jovial laugh that makes the diamond clouds above him seem to shake. He is happy. What a thing.
…
In the garden of forking ways, Destiny walks one of many well trodden paths. He turns a page from his great book. He flashes a rare smile as he reads on
"With a deep breath, Hob Gadling finally reaches the top of the staircase and peers out across the cliffs…"
…
With a deep breath, Hob Gadling finally reaches the top of the staircase and peers out across the cliffs. There is the temple he has been seeking, appearing through the mist. Still perfectly preserved as if he has stepped back in time 3000 years. Its vast columns and domed roof shine brightly. The sun is setting now and the sky is awash with spectacular colour. Its a breathtaking view.
Though the view is not what makes Hob catch a breath, but the figure standing just beyond the temple, looking out to the ocean.
Hob approaches slowly, though his heart beats faster with every step. He passes a gravestone with a familiar name engraved upon it, but his gaze remains fixed on the figure in the distance. Even after all this time, he is still terrified this isn't real, that the person ahead of him is simply a figment, or a dream. Hob takes on every detail he can as he approaches. The dark messy hair swaying in the wind, the slender but strong frame, the loose navy trousers and white? linen shirt… the clothing choices seem out of character, and make him doubt for a moment, but then the figure turns and Hob realises he has got close enough for the sound of his footsteps to reach his companions ears.
A strong jaw, high cheekbones, plush lips and icy blue eyes that speak of hidden promises and dreams come true. He is real.

Dream of the Endless, no, Morpheus, stands in front of him. Alive, well, and practically human. He smiles.
“Hello you.” Hob says.
"Hello Hob." He replies.