The lab was quieter than usual.
Not because the machines were off — they were alive, humming softly beneath the floor, lights pulsing in measured rhythms — but because James wasn't speaking.
Dr. Calloway noticed.
He adjusted the tablet in his hands, eyes moving over the readings, then finally glanced at the man lying on the medical bed.
"You're thinking too loudly," Calloway said.
James smirked faintly. "Didn't know that was a symptom."
"It is when you're staring at the ceiling like it owes you money."
James exhaled slowly. "Ethan's close."
Calloway's fingers paused.
"Close to what?" he asked carefully.
James turned his head, eyes sharp now. "To understanding why Dawson never left him alone."
Calloway didn't look surprised.
That annoyed James.
"You already knew," James said.
"I suspected," Calloway replied. "There's a difference."
James pushed himself up to sit. "He's asking questions again. Real ones this time."
"That was inevitable."
James laughed quietly. "You sound calm for someone who helped erase half a man's past."
Calloway finally faced him. "I erased memories, not blood."
James nodded. "Exactly."
Silence settled between them.
"Dawson tried to control it," James continued. "The distance. The protection without presence. He thought if Ethan never knew… then he'd be safe."
"And?" Calloway asked.
"And now Ethan feels like everyone in his life was playing a long joke without him."
Calloway folded his arms. "That's what happens when truth is treated like a threat."
James glanced at him. "You regret it?"
Calloway didn't answer immediately.
"I regret the timing," he said finally. "Not the decision."
James raised an eyebrow. "That's not comforting."
"It's honest."
James swung his legs off the bed. "If Ethan puts everything together, Dawson won't be able to hide anymore."
"That was never sustainable," Calloway said. "You don't fake deaths and split brothers without consequences."
James stood. "Dawson thinks revealing himself will break Ethan."
"And hiding already has," Calloway replied calmly.
James went still.
"That boy," Calloway continued, "has lived his entire life feeling like a missing page. He doesn't need protection anymore. He needs context."
James exhaled. "Dawson won't like that."
Calloway adjusted his glasses. "Dawson rarely likes reality."
A faint smile tugged at James's lips.
"Still," James said, "when Ethan finds out everything… it won't just be about family."
Calloway looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
James's voice dropped. "It'll be about why he was chosen to disappear… and why Dawson was allowed to stay."
The lab lights flickered once.
Calloway didn't like that question.
Not at all.
"Some choices," Calloway said quietly, "were made before either of them could speak."
James nodded slowly. "And now those choices are waking up."
Somewhere above them, in a city that didn't know it was holding its breath, two brothers moved closer to a truth neither of them had been prepared for.
And Dr. Calloway understood something with sudden clarity:
The experiment wasn't the dangerous part.
The reunion was.
James was halfway through a report he wasn't reading when his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered without checking.
"Tell me something interesting," he said.
"…Ethan knows."
James blinked.
Then he laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a breathy sound. A full, amused laugh that echoed around the room.
"Oh no," he said. "Please tell me he figured it out dramatically. Was there a pause? A gasp? Maybe a glass shattering?"
"James," Liam said dryly.
"Because if he didn't throw something, I'll be disappointed."
"He knows Ethan and Dawson are brothers," Liam continued. "All of it. The orphanage. The split. The blood."
James wiped imaginary tears from his eye. "Look at that. Family secrets have an expiration date."
"This isn't funny."
James grinned. "It's hilarious. Do you know how long Dawson has been pretending this wouldn't happen?"
Liam sighed. "Dawson knows Ethan knows."
"Oh, of course he does," James said. "The man feels disturbance in the Force. Did he panic?"
"No."
"Did he brood?"
"Yes."
James snapped his fingers. "Classic."
There was a pause. "You're not worried?"
"Worried?" James repeated. "Liam, I've been waiting for this. You don't raise two blood brothers on opposite sides of the truth and expect silence forever."
"He didn't confront him," Liam added. "Ethan just… understood."
James's smile widened. "That's the Reeve curse. No screaming. Just comprehension."
"He went back to the orphanage."
James laughed again. "Of course he did. Nothing says 'I'm about to ruin your secrets' like a nostalgic visit."
Liam hesitated. "What should we do?"
"Nothing," James said instantly. "Absolutely nothing. This is where it gets good."
He ended the call without warning and dialed another number.
Dawson Daniel Reeve.
Dawson answered immediately.
"James."
James burst out laughing the second he heard his voice.
"Oh, Dawson," he said between laughs. "You should've seen this coming."
"Liam told you," Dawson said flatly.
"Told me?" James said. "Please. I felt it. You can only hover over someone like a paranoid guardian angel for so long before they notice."
Dawson exhaled. "Ethan didn't say anything."
"That's worse," James replied cheerfully. "Silence means thinking. Thinking means connecting dots. And dots lead to very inconvenient conversations."
"You're enjoying this."
"I'm thriving," James corrected. "Years of you acting like secrecy equals safety, and now—boom. Brotherly awareness."
"Don't joke about this," Dawson warned.
James leaned back. "I'm not joking. I'm coping."
Dawson was quiet.
"He looked at me," Dawson said slowly, "like he finally recognized me."
James softened for half a second.
Then smiled again.
"Congratulations," he said. "You've officially been seen."
A beat.
"He didn't ask why I protected him," Dawson added. "He asked why I didn't trust him with the truth."
James winced theatrically. "Oof. That one hurts. Emotional damage, level five."
"This isn't funny," Dawson said.
James shrugged. "You split brothers apart. You get consequences."
Silence again.
"So what now?" James asked. "Mask off? Confession tour? Dramatic rooftop monologue?"
"I don't know," Dawson admitted.
James laughed quietly. "That's my favorite answer."
"James."
"Relax," James said. "I won't interfere."
A pause.
"But," he added lightly, "I also won't protect your feelings."
The call ended.
James stared at the ceiling, smiling to himself.
Two brothers.
One truth.
And a future that had officially stopped asking permission.
He picked up his report again.
Still didn't read it.