Haa..."
Cassian sighed, flopping unceremoniously onto the bed.
The scent of clean sheets filled his senses, grounding him. He was back.
Relief flooded him in trembling waves. It had worked.
The future he had once lived through— bleak, hopeless, catastrophic—was not set in stone. He had returned to stop it. He would ensure that it never came to pass.
As his thoughts drifted, heavy with exhaustion, he let his body slip toward unconsciousness.
There would be enough time later to worry about what year it was, how far back he had come.
For now, sleep claimed him.
---
A knock at the door roused him.
"Young master, may I come in?" came a familiar voice.
Cassian grumbled softly, still groggy, but forced himself to answer. "Come in."
The door creaked open. Soft footsteps padded across the floor until someone stood beside the bed.
"Young master, it's time to wake," the butler said warmly.
The voice pierced the fog of sleep clouding his mind.
He turned, blinking clearly—and froze.
"Ja...mie," he whispered, throat dry.
It was him. Jamie—his butler, his shield during the dark years of war. Alive. Whole. Unbroken.
A tight, helpless sob escaped him before he could stop it. Cassian pressed his face into the pillow, muffling the sound as his body trembled.
Jamie hesitated only a moment before gently patting his young master's head, soothing and steady.
It took longer than it should have, but eventually Cassian calmed, breathing deeply through the familiar scent of home.
"Shall I prepare a bath, young master?" Jamie asked, already moving to do so.
Cassian could only hum weakly in response, still clinging to the thread of reality that tethered him here.
---