“And I would bet my last dollar that the AM has seen stuff like that before,” he explained. “And they’d be idiots not to be coming up with a solution for it. I mean, the destruction that someone could cause, not to mention, it’s hard to keep Atypicals a secret if there are a bunch that are out of control. So, my theory is that the immunity drug could be tweaked to make an Atypical immune to their own ability. Basically like a suppressant.”

“But they kind of already have that, don’t they?” I said. “I mean, they gave me these powerful sleeping pills that basically knocked me out so completely, I couldn’t dreamdive. And we both were put in rooms meant to dampen our abilities.”

“Yeah, not like I needed it,” he muttered bitterly.

“So why wouldn’t they be able to do something like that for your friend?” I asked.

“I mean, the fact that last I heard he was in an AM facility in California, still spontaneously combusting every five minutes, would suggest that they have not come up with a solution,” he said dryly. “I think each ability is, you know, its own beautiful snowflake.” He rolled his eyes. “And maybe they haven’t figured out what to do for kinetics. Pyrokinetics, telekinetics…”

“Right…” I mumbled. Damien gave me a meaningful look, like he was waiting for me to speak. When I didn’t, he sighed heavily and continued.

“I’m just saying that the AM is a totally corrupt organization and they might actually have all the pieces to put together a solution for your dad and they haven’t because—”

“Because they’re a totally corrupt organization?” I echoed skeptically.

“Look, Rose, I know you’ve had a good experience—” he started, leaning toward me.

“No, I get it,” I said. “And I actually … I actually might have an idea.”

“Oh really?” He looked impressed and I preened a little.

“Just give me a few days,” I said cryptically. “I need to talk to someone first.”

“Ooh, the intrigue,” he said flatly.

“You’re not the only one who gets to be all mysterious,” I quipped and he laughed, the sound harsh and croaky as always. I smiled into my coffee cup, feeling like every laugh I got out of him was a little victory. Like the person I am, unfiltered, is funny and interesting.

“Do you miss it?” I asked suddenly.

“Miss what?”

“Your ability,” I said. “I know I talk about maybe someday taking sleeping pills all the time so that I don’t dreamdive anymore, but I think … I think I would be crushed if it was just taken away from me.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. He grimaced, squinting into the winter sun, as I sat patiently, waiting to see if he would say more.

“It’s like a part of me is missing,” he said. “Like everything is just a little … duller. A little blurrier.”