Sometimes a success is so overwhelming that it leaves you empty.

  Brom's eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he was disoriented. What grounded him was feeling a familiar, purring mass on his chest. His gaze moved from the ceiling of his bedroom to Sabbath making biscuits just below his clavicle. The big Maine Coon didn't give three shits about the night that Brom had had, the old man cat was just patiently needling his human until Brom got up and provided him with the wet food. No matter how much the world changed, some things would always stay the same.

  After a bit of a stretch, Brom groaned like a cable under tension, not wanting to move further. Now that he was awake, though, Sabbath became far more insistent, sitting his heavy weight directly over Brom's sternum and patting a paw on his jaw. Food. He needed food. He was going to waste away to fur and bone if he wasn't fed, clearly. "Alright, alright, old man. Get your ass off me." He gently shifted Sabbath off him and then levered himself up.

  He still ached, a first. Usually, by the morning after, his body had chased the lingering remains of whatever bullshit a quest or dungeon or fight had put him through. This time, the imprint went deep. He blew out a breath, pushing his fingers through his red hair, looking at his other palm. There was a faint scarring there in the meat of it. He didn't remember being injured at any point, and yet, the mark was there. A reminder.

  For once, Marble didn't try to murder him on the stairs. The big lump of grey was draped over the couch back like a flabby blanket, tail twitching as he observed the human-shaped food dispenser descend the stairs. Brulé was suddenly there, noisily chittering up at him, clearly displeased in the mealtime interruption, while Alice watched him from a nearby chair. He was starting to get worried that he hadn't seen Bean until he rounded the corner into the kitchen, finding the sausage cat asleep over the food dishes.

  "Weirdo." The word was said affectionately as he picked up the little orange menace, nuzzling against his fur before setting the sleepy sausage back down. Cups of kitty kibble were procured, Sabbath's wet food was opened and put in his special bowl that sat a little separated from the others. With the most demanding members of the family enjoying their breakfast, Brom opened the fridge. He could see the little notification icons on his HUD, waiting for him to rip the bandage off and actually deal with what had happened last night. But everything was better with a belly full of eggs.

  He was whisking them together with milk when the thuds of hurried footsteps on the stairs announced that TJ was awake, and less than a minute later, there the teen was. Skidding into the dining room, slipping on the wooden floor a bit in his socks. Still wearing those cartoon hotdog pajamas. Brom looked up and met his eyes, arching an eyebrow. "Eggs?"

  TJ's expression turned dumbfounded. "Really, Uncle B? We go through some actual bullshit, and you just... cook breakfast?"

  "Food is how I cope." Brom's massive shoulders twitched in a shrug. The admission was easier to make now. Last night had worn away a lot of the walls he'd built inside him, making it easier to let the little truths slip. "You want it with ham and cheese scrambled in or sprinkled on after?"

  TJ thumped down on his usual stool, forehead resting flat on the counter with a groan. "Ham in, cheese after."

  "Get your face off the counter. We put food on that." If elbows weren't supposed to be on eating surfaces, foreheads definitely weren't. "I had things I needed to do today, but I think I'm going to rain check them. That was a hell of a night, they can wait."

  "...it really happened, didn't it?" The teen's voice was soft. Afraid. TJ glanced over his shoulder for reasons that only made sense to him.

  Eggs sizzled against the pan, Brom's grey eyes focused there, using the familiar task to ground him and let him think through his words. "It's my fault, kiddo. If I'd known you'd get pulled into that, I'd never have let it happen." Now his nephew had extra bullshit to deal with, a terror that would lurk in his mind for the rest of his life. It wouldn't surprise Brom in the least if TJ had a fear of heights or the ocean after this.

  "Stop it." The snap in TJ's voice surprised both of them. It took the teen a few moments to recover, to keep going. "Okay, yeah, maybe you set it in action. But did you walk into the house, scoop me up, and tie me to the anchor? No. You didn't put me in danger, that thing did. You're the one who got me out of it. It would be like blaming the blacksmith for murder. He didn't stab the man, he just forged the sword."

  Forged the sword. "Kiddo, sometimes you've got a real way with words. You know that?" Considering what last night had been about and everything. Brom dumped the eggs on the plate, sprinkling on the cheese, and slid it in front of TJ. "Eat. We'll talk when our bellies are full. I have to go through my rewards anyway."

  TJ picked up a fork, stabbing the eggs. "And that asshole didn't even stick around for closure. Just fade to black and back in bed."

  "What, you expect a god to apologize for kidnapping a mere mortal? We're entertainment to them. Means to an end. You were collateral in a wager, kiddo, and only one side put any value on you." Brom sprinkled his eggs liberally with hot sauce, not bothering to offer the bottle to TJ. His nephew was something of a basic white bitch when it came to seasonings.

  The teen rolled his eyes, stabbing at his meal again, talking with the first bite still half-chewed. "Wow, way to suck at making me feel better."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "Truth hurts. I got flensed to the bone with my own stupidity last night." He locked his eyes on TJ. "I'm not good at this part, TJ. I'm not good at making the hurt go away or making the world make sense. I think it was some sort of cosmic recognition that whatever altered the world made me a Barbarian. Not exactly knowing for the thinking and feeling in pop culture now, are they?" An excuse, another attempt at using his humor. As he'd been told he wasn't funny. So he took a deep breath and got serious. "I wish... I really wish I had the right words to say. To make it right in your heart and to take the weight off your mind. Kiddo, you don't deserve the nightmares, and I wouldn't blame you if you end up hating the ocean."

  Brom watched TJ, who was now pushing eggs around his plate, not looking up. Shit. How did he fix this? How did he make this right? Well, the best way was to start at the beginning. "TJ, are you okay?"

  That got the teen to look up again, and for a second, Brom recognized what he saw there. The Jones stubbornness. For the space of three panic-heavy heartbeats, Brom could see his nephew on the precipice of the same fucking path that had ruined him. Stubborn rebellion and locking away something that needed exposure to heal. Maybe he let some of that panic color his expression. Maybe the worry in his face was naked enough to read. Or, most likely, TJ was just a little bit smarter emotionally than his uncle had been at his age.

  "...no. Not really."

  Brom abandoned his plate on the countertop, wiping his hands on his hips as he moved around to the other side. He was bad at this. Bad at comfort. But couldn't he improve? An arm reached out, squeezing TJ's shoulders. He felt the teen resist for a moment, just a moment, and then the hug was real. TJ was only sixteen. He was a ball of hormones and a still-evolving sense of self. No matter how tough he wanted to be or what template society told him he had to follow, he was just a kid. A scared one. Brom just let him cry it out, rubbing the other's back in a soothing gesture.

  "I've got you, kiddo." That was all he could think to say in the moment. "I've got you."

  The cats, sensing distress, were milling around Brom's ankles. Say what you would about felines, they knew when their people needed them, although some were more comforting than others. Alice wandered off first, Sabbath next, when the old man realized it was the kid and not his owner in crisis. Brulé stayed nearby, next to a heating vent, watching the drama like a diva. Marble made himself a tripping hazard, a cat trap waiting to spring. Ultimately, in the end, when TJ finally let go of him, it was Bean that Brom put in his arms.

  Slow, sweet, stubby-legged Bean the sausage. Bean only knew one language, and that language was love. He knew how to beg for human food and look adorable doing it, patting tiny, stubby paws against TJ's chest. The teen, confronted with the awkward orange animal, could only let out a wet laugh.

  He looked up at Brom. "This is why you have cats?"

  "That and the fact they shit smaller than dogs. Don't give him the eggs, though, no matter how much he begs." Nimbly, Brom stepped over Marble and earned himself a disgusted look from the big grey boulder. He went back into the kitchen, picking at his cooled scramble, eating despite his appetite having vanished. Honestly, at this point, Brom was starting to feel like he should stop making scrambled eggs. Everything seemed to go wrong when he did. He needed to stop being lazy, make some pancakes or waffles, or hell, even dust off his skills and power out some badass crepes.

  "So...what did you get from all that?" TJ's voice was soft, fragile, clearly trying to move on.

  "Haven't looked yet. Figured I'd do that after we talked, if you're ready to talk?" He held out his hand, taking the plate that TJ offered up. "Haven't even looked at the quest clear notification."

  "I've got like five notifications. Missed school." TJ's voice had a sad little laugh in it as he sat there, petting the purring Bean. "I'm sure they'll understand, right? I mean, what's the worst that could happen? They call Dad?"

  Actually, from Brom's point of view, that would be the worst thing that could happen. The next time he saw Jason Jones, they were going to have a heart-to-heart that would make the driveway scuffle look like a child's slap fight. Brom's house was notably not in a safe zone. He sighed, shaking his head. "Check and see. Maybe there's a penalty description in your quest log?" The shout a moment later made Brom break the plate he was cleaning, whipping around to see TJ on his feet, clutching Bean so tightly that the poor sausage was wiggling his legs to be let go.

  "Holy shit! Holy shit! I got rewards from your quest! I got a fucking passive skill from your quest!" TJ's hands were shaking, his grip on Bean easing up enough that the confused blob of orange started purring again, helpless in the teen's arms and just going with it. Trembling, he shared his HUD with Brom, allowing his uncle to read what was written there.

  'I gave my word that should the wager be won, I would reward generously. For believing in your uncle and helping in this test, you are given the following benefit: One randomly selected class passive.'

  Brom said nothing for a long moment, watching the joy cross TJ's face as the teen went to check and see what he'd received. Instead, he just stared at the little notifications at the top of his HUD. The Sea God had left TJ with a passive, and he was just an accidental participant in the wager between them.

  So what had he left Brom?