Wreaths of snow sit on the windowsills of City Hall, picking up the warm light from inside. It gives the public building a strangely cozy atmosphere, especially against the stormy morning this is shaping up to be. A mixture of rain and snowflakes powders down onto my shoulders as I bound up the steps.

I slip into Aiden’s office and find his laptop open, the cursor blinking in the middle of an unfinished archival form. His phone is next to the laptop, as are his white cotton gloves.

I set down the two cups I brought from Mugshot, then hesitate, nibbling my lip.

I could just wait for Aiden to come back, but the arrangement on his desk makes me think he left in a hurry, and - I don’t know why, but I feel the need to go find him.

The hallways are quiet this morning, most people at work in their offices. I can see them through their open doors, and hear the ringing of landline phones, clicking and typing, muted conversations. There's only a handful of people walking out in the hall, which is how I quickly discern that Aiden isn’t here, but another familiar face is.

“Ripples!” I call, waving at him.

He looks up from his phone, then waves back. I walk towards him, and he comes to meet me halfway, pulling out his AirPods.

“Hey, Jamie. What’s up?”

I’m tempted to answer something along the lines of: not much, vandal, except that I went to look at your artwork last night, and it’s even better in person.

But I can’t do that, so.

“I was looking for Aiden? He’s not in his office.”

“I don’t know what he’s doing,” Ripley says, looking suddenly troubled. “I just saw him headed up to the second floor like he was on a mission, and when I tried to talk to him, he acted like he didn’t even hear me. I was standing right behind him, though, so he must have. Had to wonder if he’s - mad at me about something?”

“Oh, no, he definitely isn’t,” I answer quickly. “Aiden's hearing, it's - sometimes you just have to be a little louder than you'd think. Anyways - you said he went to the second floor?”

“Mhm.”

“Thanks, man!” I slap his shoulder, then set off for the stairs. "Later!"

My heart is hammering, and I have to actively force myself to walk at a normal pace. Aiden must have heard something. Why didn’t he call me? Was there not even enough time for that?

There’s no one in the stairway, and I break into a run, taking the steps two at a time. I stumble out onto the second floor, then stop for a second, getting my breath back.

There are people out in the hallways, so I slow down, trying not to look as frantic as I feel. City Hall is a big building, and there are lots of different places where Aiden might be. I don’t know where to start.

I head down the hall and take the very first turn. It leads to a second hallway, lined with filing cabinets and office doors.

The hallway itself is empty, but I spend a silent, anxious minute glancing into each open door, checking every office for him.

I'm almost to the end of the hallway when something stops me still: a faint whiff of vetiver.

Before I can move, two familiar arms wrap around me from behind, and a deep voice rumbles in my ear.

“Looking for me?” 

I turn in his arms, sagging with relief.

“Aiden!” I fling my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. “I saw your office sitting empty, I thought - I don’t know.”

“Aw, Jamie." His voice is warm and calm, steadying out my racing heart. “Hey, I'm okay, I promise.”

I pull back, then freeze, staring up at him.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over Aiden’s striking blue eyes. They’re so gentle and compassionate, so empty of that cold disinterest that frosted them in high school. Sometimes I have to linger over them, gaze into them.

This time, I’m staring for a different reason.

His eyes are the specific shade of ice blue that they turn when he’s trying to save someone, and yet - there's a glowing smile on his face.

It's a breathtaking combination, but I'm more than a little confused.

“What’s going on?” I whisper. “Is someone in trouble? I'm lost, right now.”

Aiden sets off down the hallway, in the same direction I was going. Glancing into each office, just like I was.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on, either,” he says. “I’m listening to someone in this building, but I don’t know who.”

“What?” I ask, hurrying after him. “Shouldn’t we be moving with a little more urgency, then?”

“Nobody is in fatal danger,” Aiden explains, peering into another office. “It’s more like someone is about to have a seriously unpleasant morning. I don’t technically need to interfere, but it’s been in my ears nagging at me, so. Figured I’d try to stop whatever it is from happening. It’s okay if we don’t get there in time, though. Whoever it is will just have a bad day, that’s it.”

A rush of warm affection for Aiden instantly thaws my remaining panic. I love that I’ve caught him in the middle of trying to make a stranger’s day better.

“Helps that you’re here,” he says, coming to a stop. “Actually - let me listen to you, for a sec? That should help me out.”

I double-check that no one else is around, then snuggle up against Aiden’s chest, so he can hear me better. He closes his eyes and curls an arm around me.

A silence passes. He listens.

“You sound happy,” he murmurs, after a moment.

Only Aiden would say that to me when I haven’t spoken a word. So strange, just like everything else about what we’re doing right now. But if I was made for what’s normal and ordinary, I wouldn’t be Aiden Callahan’s Companion Plant.

“I am happy.” I nuzzle my face into his neck. “I’m glad that you’re alright. I was worried about you.”

Aiden lets out a soft breath, and holds me a little closer.

We stand in silence until he opens his eyes, blinking away the white-blue light.

“I think… yeah, we’re on the wrong side of the building. C’mon, let’s go.”

The incident we’re trying to prevent must be getting closer, because Aiden picks up speed, and I can see the growing tension in the set of his broad shoulders, his jaw.

I know that the best way to help is to talk, and I have something to say, anyways.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long this morning.”

“No problem," Aiden says. "Where’d you run off to, though?”

I blink up at him, surprised.

“I told you, remember? I said I was going to Mugshot. You answered me. We talked.”

“Oh. I don’t think I was actually up, dude. I don’t remember that at all.”

Okay. So this is now the second time that Aiden has sleep-talked about loving me. If we weren’t in the middle of something, I would probably have to drag him into the privacy of that broom closet we just walked past, but. You know. Priorities.

I bite down on my smile, and face forward again.

“Well, I didn’t run off, exactly. I had to do a favor for Noah, then one for Melanie, and then I gave Noah a ride home, and then I went back to Mugshot, because I realized I hadn't gotten you a coffee, and then I realized that you had probably left my place, since the workday started-”

“How do you talk for that long without taking a breath, honestly?” Aiden laughs, ruffling my hair. “And how have you done that many favors for people already today? It’s not even 10 AM. You’re ridiculous.”

“As if you didn’t stop in the middle of filling out an archival form to go do a favor for a complete stranger."

Aiden comes to an abrupt halt. His eyes narrow as he listens, another flash of white-blue light flashing through them.

“We’re close. It’s one of these offices.”

We’re in a nook with four office doors. One is closed, but the other three are open.

Two of them are empty, and one of them is not.

“Shit,” Aiden mutters, as we stare into the crowd of people packed into the room.

It’s a large office, and there must be a birthday party or something happening. There’s food out on the tables. People are snacking, talking, laughing.

“Oh, no.” My heart sinks. “Which one of them…?”

Aiden makes a soft, pained noise. “I have no idea.”

I cast my mind around for any possible way to narrow this down.

“Aiden - you listened for Noah’s specific sound, once. Remember? When we found him in the forest, when he got lost? He wasn’t in fatal danger, either.”

Aiden shakes his head, running a hand over his mouth.

“That was different. Noah was so scared, his energy was practically screaming for help. The person we’re looking for right now doesn’t realize that they’re in trouble.”

I’m hit with a gut-punch of sympathy for Noah, as well as a sudden memory of how easily Ralph gave up looking for him, abandoned him out in the woods.

A bubble of anger starts to rise in my stomach, but I turn away from it. I need to stay focused.

“Use my sound, if you need to,” I tell Aiden. “You can do it, I know you can.”

He obviously doesn't think it's going to work, but he closes his eyes, concentrating. I take his hand, trying not to freak out as precious seconds slip by.

“I think…” Aiden’s eyes flutter open, and he peers into the office again. “Maybe him? That guy?”

I follow Aiden’s gaze to a man standing in the far corner of the office. He’s chatting with another employee, holding a plastic plate with a cookie on it.

I realize all at once that I know him.

“That’s Brian. I met him once, he was having a meeting with Gabby. Oh, he’s - he’s in charge of the tree cutting.” I let out a quiet groan, turning back to Aiden. “Really? So we’re nice enough to not break his stuff, and now we have to help him out, too?”

“The joy of being a Guardian,” Aiden grumbles. “Don’t get to pick and choose who you help.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” I ask.

Aiden clearly doesn’t know, either, and we both fall silent, scanning the office for something Brian might hurt himself on. But there’s nothing, except -

“The cookie?” I suggest.

Aiden stares at me, then looks back at Brian, the single cookie on his plate.

“How’s he gonna hurt himself on a cookie?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, “But - we probably shouldn’t let him eat it, right?”

Before I even finish my sentence, Brian plucks the cookie from his plate, and starts to lift it to his mouth.

“Hey, Brian!” Aiden says sharply, loud enough to reach him in the back corner of the room.

Brian stops, the cookie halfway to his mouth. “Um. Yeah…?”

It’s dawning on me how weird this looks. Aiden doesn’t know Brian, and I don’t even work here, nor am I in work attire. But we’re in this, now, so.

The party continues around us as Aiden crosses directly to Brian. I trail after him, wishing desperately that we’d had time to make a plan.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Brian asks, as Aiden comes to a stop before him.

He starts to bring the cookie to his mouth again.

“You-” Aiden begins. “Um-”

There’s no time for this. Brian is about two seconds away from taking a bite, and I move without thinking.

I reach out and give his hand a hard smack, knocking the cookie to the ground. It rolls to a stop on the carpet, leaving crumbs in its wake.

“What the hell?” Brian sputters, dropping his plate. “Who even are y-?”

“Someone lose a peanut butter cookie?” one of the other employees calls, bending to pick it up.

Brian was staring at me, his confused outrage written all over his face, but now he whips around.

“A peanut butter cookie?” he gasps. “What-? Some of us have serious allergies, people! We have the no-peanut policy for a reason! Who brought those in?”

“That’s a policy?” asks a guilty-looking guy by the food table. “I thought it was more of a suggestion.”

“Seriously?” Brian snaps. “You know what? Come here, I’m gonna show you how to use my EpiPen, so that you know how to do it the next time you nearly send me to the hospital!”

In the commotion, Aiden and I quietly make our way back to the door.

We slip away, unnoticed.

~~~~

We don’t stop moving until we’re back in Aiden’s office.

He shuts the door after us. There’s a silence, during which we just stare at each other, and then we both explode into laughter.

“Oh my god,” Aiden wheezes, rubbing his eyes. “Of all the Guardian stuff I’ve done in my life, that was easily the stupidest. I can’t believe you punched a fucking cookie out of that man's hand.”

“Oh, no,” I groan, pressing my fingers to my cheeks. “This is the second time that I’m going to get in trouble for a cookie-related incident!”

Aiden lets out another burst of laughter, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“You just had to eat an illegal cookie in our school library, didn’t you?”

“It was a crime of passion, okay?”

“Jesus Christ,” Aiden laughs, dropping into his chair.

He sits back, gets comfortable, and looks up at me.

My breath stops for a moment.

The laughter all over Aiden's face is making him glow, and that glow has some powerful magnetism I'm helpless against. It draws me right in.

Again, I move without thinking, and drop to sit on his lap.

His laughter slows, and he circles his arms around me, bringing me even closer.

“You’re getting so much better at this.” I smooth my hand along his stubbled jaw. “You just picked out Brian from a room full of people, and he wasn’t even in fatal trouble.”

Aiden smiles again, suddenly shy.

“Well, it’s a little easier when I’m not panicking, so-”

“Doesn’t matter.” I sit back, and tap his nose with my finger. “I’m proud of you.”

There’s a knock on the door, and before either of us can move, Ripley opens it.

His blonde eyebrows arch when he sees the way we’re sitting.

“Don’t let Gabby catch you like that while you're on the clock, Aiden,” he snickers.

I get to my feet, my face burning, and Aiden gets up, too.

“What’s up, Ripples?" he asks.

“Gabby sent me!” Ripley yells, then pauses as Aiden and I both startle. “Oh - was that too loud? Jamie told me that sometimes I need to be louder, for you to hear me, Aiden…?”

“Only if he doesn’t hear you the first time,” I hastily explain, biting back a laugh. “You’re - you’re fine at your regular volume for now.”

“Oh. Got it.” Ripley starts again, in his normal voice. “Gabby sent me to tell you that she’s sorry you’re upset about the trees coming down today, but that you can’t go around slapping cookies out of the hands of her staff, regardless of their involvement.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, tipping my head back. “It happened like, five minutes ago. How does she know about it already?”

“No idea.” Ripley shrugs, grinning widely. “But it was the best message I’ve been sent to deliver since I started at City Hall, so thanks for that.”

All three of us start to laugh, but Ripley stops, chewing his lip.

“Sort of sad, right?” he asks, more quietly. “That the art didn’t help?”

Aiden leans back against his desk, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“Depends on how you look at it,” he says. “I wouldn't say the art didn't help. Maybe there was no immediate result, but…” He locks eyes with Ripley. “These things tend to have a ripple effect, don’t you think?”

I see it flash across Ripley’s face: the realization that we know the truth, followed by the realization that we’re on his side, that we won’t say anything to anyone.

He smiles, a sly, shared-secret smile that disappears in an instant.

Then he slips his paint-stained fingers into his pockets, and heads back out into the hallway.

“Yeah,” he says, over his shoulder. “I guess they do.”