Ambrosius and Nimona looked at each other in unison; terror on Ambrosius’s face and annoyance on Nimona’s. Footsteps were coming down the walkway through the middle of the archives.

The manager’s voice came again.

“We know you’re in here! Come out and we’ll keep this simple!”

Thank Gloreth the sword drawer closed quietly. Ambrosius could hear footsteps moving through a ‘A’ section of the archives. Maybe if they hid, the manager and crew would give up and leave?

Ambrosius and Nimona hurried, quietly as they could, deeper into the archives. Nimona pointed out a small window in the ‘S’ section - it was too high off the ground to reach, but there was a tall shelf blocking the line of sight to the main walkway. There had to be a ladder around here somewhere… 

Ambrosius’s phone buzzed an alert. Ambrosius shot his hand into his pocket and silenced it. The cadence of distant footsteps didn’t change. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he realized the packet of Ballister's ashes was missing.

Ambrosius felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on him. The last link he had to Ballister, gone. It must have fallen on the floor when he’d pulled out his phone to investigate the sword. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d lost it forever!

“I dropped something.” he whispered to Nimona. “Back at the sword.”

Nimona gave him a ‘whyyyyyy’ gesture.

Ambrosius turned to go back.

Nimona grabbed his arm.

“Are you trying to get caught?” she hissed.

“I can’t leave without it!” he whispered back.

Nimona threw her hands in the air.

“Fine - I’ll distract them. Meet back here. I’m leaving if you get caught.”

Ambrosius nodded and hurried back along the wall. He ducked behind a cabinet as the footsteps came closer. Closer. Closer. Ambrosius hunched lower, as if making himself smaller would make them walk past him quicker.

“Check behind those cabinets.” the manager’s voice came.

Ambrosius caught his breath. That was it. He was done for.

Just then, the rattling thud of a cabinet closing came from the other side of the vault. He heard the footsteps stop.

“Found you.” one of the workers called from the direction of the telltale noise.

The statement was followed by a shriek of terror.

The nearby footsteps hurried away.

“What? What is it?!”

“It’s him!”

“Oh good Gloreth!”

Ambrosius seized his opportunity and dashed towards the B section. The sword’s aisle was empty. He scanned the floor for the ash packet. There. It had gotten kicked part way under a shelf. Ambrosius grabbed it, relief washing over him. Now to get out of here.

The commotion at the other side of the vault continued as Ambrosius made his way back to the window.

“Security! We need security up here now!” the manager’s voice sounded frantic.

There was the sound of running towards the door. Then the slam of the door closing. Ambrosius glanced down a walkway towards the door, wondering what that had been about.

There was someone in the middle of the walkway, their back to him. They were shuffling towards the door, a heavy rope trailing behind them. The person turned to look at Ambrosius. Ambrosius felt his knees give way.

It was Ballister. He was wearing the same prison garb he’d last been seen in, noose dangling from his neck. His head was slumped to the side, face tinted purple and eyes rolled back in his head. He faced Ambrosius for a moment. Then he shrunk down to Nimona’s form and pointed to the back of the vault.

“Window!”

Ambrosius was still in shock as Nimona grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the ‘S’ section. His ears were ringing so loud, he barely registered what Nimona was saying when they reached the window.

“Snap out of it!” she said, shaking him by the shoulders.

Ambrosius stared at her, slowly coming out of his daze.

“…Don’t do that again.”

The archives door banged open.

“Security! Stand down!”

Nimona’s teen form was suddenly replaced by a giant pink spider. It grabbed Ambrosius with two legs and scuttled up the wall to the window. Ambrosius had just enough presence of mind to undo the window latch before Nimona threw herself against it, hurtling them both into the alley outside.

“See? Window around the back.” Nimona said proudly, bouncing back into a teen.

Ambrosius rubbed his head where it had hit the opposite stone wall. He could feel a bruise forming.

“Don’t do that again,” he repeated.

“What? The spider?”

“No…”

“Your buddy? I thought you’d want to see him again.”

“Not like that!”

“Well if you hadn’t gone back for… what did you go back for?”

Ambrosius pulled out the packet.

Nimona looked from it, to him, to it again.

“Seriously?!” she threw her hands in the air. “Uuuuughhhhhhhhh… so sentimental…”

~ ~ ~

Thankfully, no one questioned the Emotional Support Dog when Amborsius went back to the dorms. He wanted to get out of his armor, being off-duty and not wanting to get mobbed by fans on his way to the shopping district. A set of regular clothes and a cloak usually took care of that - it looked gloomy enough outdoors that the hood would blend in.

"Hey, we can match - villain and sidekick!" Nimona exclaimed as she spun on the chair across the bedroom.

Ambrosius scowled as he pulled his cloak from his closet.

"I told you, I'm not a villain. And we don't need to match."

"Too late!"

When Ambrosius glanced back at her, she was wearing a cloak that matched his. She bounced off the chair and held a hand up.

"And don't think for a moment that you're going alone. You wouldn't have gotten close to this far without me."

Ambrosius weighed his options as he pulled his own cloak on. She wasn't wrong. And she wasn't... unpleasant to be around. But his cloak wasn't foolproof - if someone noticed him running around town with a strange teenager, there would be questions.

"Not like... that." he gestured at Nimona.

"C'mon, what's wrong with matching?"

"I mean... the girl form."

On cue, Nimona shrank back down to a service dog, vest matching the color of his cloak.

"Better?"

“And animals need to be leashed on the subwa--”

“One step ahead of you!” A leash sprouted from the vest. She picked up the handle in her mouth and tossed it to him.

Ambrosius held the handle awkwardly. Nimona cocked her head to the side.

“Never walked a dog before?”

“My dad hated dogs.”

“That's not an excuse - he died when you were what, 8? Don't tell me your mom hated dogs too...”

“She said she was too busy for a pet. Most senators are.”

“You missed out, man. But anyway it’s easy - just hold on!”

Nimona darted to the door, the leash jerking Ambrosius forward.

~ ~ ~

Nimona practically dragged Ambrosius all the way to the subway station. Ambrosius could swear she was grinning the whole time, if dogs could grin.

The duo had just missed the morning rush hour, getting a car with only a few other passengers. Dog-ona sprawled on the floor under Ambrosius's seat leisurely, earning a stink eye the passenger at the other end of the cabin. Ambrosius kept his head down, phone in his hands.

“Could you not?” he muttered, just loud enough for Nimona to hear.

“Relax - it’s not like someone else wants this space.” Nimona’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the subway.

Ambrosius glared at her, then went back to the game on his phone.

Nimona’s voice got his attention.

“I can’t believe your mom never got you a dog. Everyone in your family before you had at least one dog.”

“I’m sure somebody in the line didn’t.”

“Nope. Believe me, I would know.”

That didn’t sit right with Ambrosius. Most details about his family were public knowledge, but that felt oddly specific.

“How would you know?”

There was a brief pause before Nimona replied, “I did a report for school.”

Ambrosius glanced up from his phone.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Didn’t your parents tell you to never ask a lady’s age?”

Ambrosius rolled his eyes.

“Do your parents know you’re out here?”

“They’re dead. It’s just me.”

Ambrosius hesitated. His habitual politeness didn’t want him to pry, but he wanted answers.

“Were… they like you too?”

“Dogs?”

“No I mean… you can change into whatever. Is that… hereditary?”

Nimona stretched her paws out, yawning.

“Probably… I never met them, so I wouldn’t know.”

“So you could always do that?”

“As far as I can remember.”

“How?”

“Because I’m awesome.”

That wasn’t a sufficient answer, but the car had reached an interim stop and several more passengers boarded, one sitting across the walkway from Ambrosius. The conversation would have to wait.

The nearby passenger flipped open a newspaper, front page in full view. Ambrosius’s grip on his phone tightened. The image printed on the front was of him, arms wrapped around Ballister's limp body while two guards tried to pry him loose. Ambrosius was suddenly back at the event - he could feel the tears on his face, the dead weight of his lover in his arms, the knowledge that this was all his fault - that if he hadn’t been so slow with the paperwork, Ballister would still be alive.

Ambrosius didn’t hear the digital voice announcing the stop for the shopping district. He didn’t feel the dog nose prodding his hand or the paw scratching his leg either. Then suddenly, he felt his face get smacked by something wet.

He blinked, slowly coming back to the present. A pink dog was up in his face, wet tongue hanging out of its mouth.

“…Nimona?”

Dog-ona grabbed the end of the leash and looped it around Ambrosius's wrist, then darted towards the now-closing doors, barely pausing to grab Ambrosius’s dropped phone in her mouth. Ambrosius was just alert enough to get to his feet before the leash snapped tight and yanked him out of the subway car before the doors closed.

Nimona had tugged him all the way to a bench away from foot traffic before he got out of his fog. He slumped down onto the bench, limbs weak from the emotional toll of the flashback. Nimona dropped his phone - now wet with dog slobber - into his lap before speaking.

“Hey - hey, wake up - we’ve got stuff to do.”

Ambrosius rubbed his face, coming back to himself.

“I am, I am, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Just... give me a moment.” he took a deep breath, then glanced around to see if anyone had noticed him talking to a dog. Nobody had. Then he noticed his soggy phone.

“Why is my phone…”

Nimona waved a paw.

“I don’t have thumbs, remember?”

He wiped his phone on his shirt.

“…Thanks.”

“Just watching out for you, Boss.”