Seventeen

Ryan wakes up to the beeping of their phone alarm, which is normal, and of Queen Cleanopatra the roomba, which is not. Groggy from sleep, it takes them a moment to realize that the little robot is beeping out the tune of “Happy Birthday.” 
“Okay,” They say, rolling out of bed to squint at the roomba. “I know I didn’t program when my birthday was into you. So did GAIA or Mel or--” they try to think about who they know who might casually reprogram their roomba, and come up with an alarmingly long list, “--someone tell you, or are you developing sentience?” 
Queen Cleanopatra beeps innocently at them. 
“Alright then, keep your secrets,” Ryan decides. When they adopted a Community Center roomba, they knew things might get a little weird. 
Now that they’re awake, they can feel the Gaunlet stirring in the back of their mind, and then a rush of emotion being pushed their direction--gratitude, pride--that is theirs-and-not-theirs, an uncanny feeling that’s become second nature after months of experiencing it. Honestly, that’s more than they expected from the Gauntlet; it’s not chatty even on its good days. Ryan thinks it takes the Gauntlet a lot of effort to communicate anything but the base, gut instincts of good, bad, tired, danger, or fix this. 
On its best days, when it can string together to be coherent, Ryan has tried to figure out what the problem is. The most they’ve gotten is a sense of helpless loss, trying to access parts of itself that aren’t there. It hurts, in a way it can’t communicate well to Ryan, and they don’t try to push it to speak more. It communicates in its own way--feelings, impulses--and that works for the pair of them. 
So they’re not expecting a voice--like theirs, but strained and stilted as though speaking in an unfamiliar language, familiar from the most important moment of their life. They pause as they’re dressing themselves, blinking in surprise.
“Ryan,” it says, and then there is a long pause. “I...am grateful for your birth.” 
Ryan smiles, hoping it can feel their happiness like they can feel its emotions. “Is that your way of wishing me a happy birthday? Thank you.” 
“I believe it is custom to give a gift,” The Gauntlet says as Ryan resumes getting ready for the day. “I...cannot give you what you desire. I apologize.” 
“It’s fine,” Ryan says, although they both know it isn’t. Today, in particular, their mother’s absence hurts, a deep ache in the center of their chest as though some part of them has been hollowed out and removed. 
She would be making waffles for breakfast, they think despite themselves. We’d go out for Indian food for dinner. 
They pull their hoodie on and try not to think about it more, pocketing their phone and picking up their backpack, starting to sweep books into it. 
“You miss having someone to speak to after waking,” The Gauntlet says again, after a moment. Ryan pauses as they shove their textbook into the backpack--they hadn’t expected the Gauntlet to have picked up on something that small, that mundane, but--of course--it was right. Sleepy morning conversation with their mother had been something so small and normal, until suddenly they were gone entirely. “I can give you that.” 
“Oh.” Embarrassingly, Ryan can feel their eyes start to sting. They blink it away and rub the band of their wristwatch in a way they hope is comforting. “You don’t have to strain yourself for me, buddy. But...thanks.” 
“It is nothing,” The Gauntlet manages, although Ryan can tell it is a lie. “Now--how do you intend to celebrate this day? With the rest of your Big Team--the man of lightning, the one with crystal magic, the three who are as one, the valkyrie, perhaps the one who becomes long?  Or will you visit the halls of history?” As much as Ryan has informed them that it’s called the museum, the Gauntlet is adamant about its own name for the building. Ryan has to admit it’s more poetic. “If not that, will you seek out the Avalonian mage you are so taken with?” 
“Oh, don’t you start,” Ryan grumbles, aware that they’re blushing, and also that they’re smiling like a fool. The teasing has lost a lot of its sting after Merlin had agreed to a date--had even been enthusiastic about the idea of a second date, after. Still, it was the principle of the thing. “Anyway, I have school today.” 
The Gauntlet sends out a wave of disapproval as Ryan ducks out of their room, waving at a passing GAIA-bot on their way to the kitchen. 
“Your schooling is tedious and uninformative,” the Gauntlet opines, to a snort of laughter from Ryan. “It wastes your time, and today should be savored.” 
“Are you encouraging me to cut classes?” Ryan teases back, keeping their voice quiet enough that people probably won’t think they’re talking to themself as they rifle through the kitchen for breakfast. 
Their conversation continues, although the Gauntlet tires quickly and begins responding with its more usual bursts of emotion. It’s not a replacement for talking to their mother, of course, and the freezer waffles Ryan finds in the kitchen aren’t as good as home-made, but it’s something. Ryan heads out the door as GAIA wishes them a happy birthday, and the ache in their chest feels a little lighter. 
As they walk to Big High, they pull out their phone to check chitter, smiling at the string of messages about Faith before quickly posting their own--rattling off some of the cooler things that have happened on September 21st for Faith, Solae, and Luna. They aren’t expecting much of a response--surely people have better things to do than respond to more history messages--so they’re surprised when, a few minutes later, their phone starts buzzing with notifications. 
They are expecting Dawn’s message about Armenian Independence Day, and half-expecting the follow-up Happy Birthdays from not only herself, but Solae and Luna (who, fortunately, remembered to sign into their own chitter account). They aren’t expecting Fearless to respond before them with well-wishes and an offer of cake, or Gwen’s lackadaisical but still touching message. 
And then there’s more. They probably should have expected Emmy to do something, now that she’s active again, but they can’t help but smile when they realize she’s saved an old picture of them that Ryan hadn’t seen in years--back when she used to braid their hair before class every day, when their hair was much longer. It’s almost sweet enough to stop their indignation at her offer to send people on Big Team pictures of them during their horrible horn-rimmed glasses phase. Ryan quickly types out a response to her, knowing as they do that there is no force that can stop her from sending people those photos, and not particularly minding as they do. 
They get through Faith cheering for their birthday twins and Hisham asking them to stop by the museum “for a little surprise” before the text they’ve been half-expecting to show up all morning pops up on their screen. 
Dad: Happy birthday, Ryan! Can we talk sometime soon? 
It’s the same message it’s been every other year, like Bill copy-and-pastes into place, or has scheduled it to send the same message at 8 am every September 21st. If it was any other year, Ryan would be wryly amused by the routine message and send an answer. This year, the second sentence makes their stomach turn with nausea. 
They delete the notification, pocket their phone, put their head down, and hurry to Big High. 
Still, they can’t help but check their notifications throughout the morning as more messages come in. Cambria wishes them a happy birthday and passes on a message from Grace that makes Ryan smile so widely their face hurts; Boon says they’re taking Emmy up on her offer, but follows it up with a nonbinary pride heart and calls them the world’s coolest nerd, so Ryan supposes they can forgive them. Atlanta promises cupcakes, unsurprisingly. Lily sends a happy birthday from Merlin, and the rest of the Knights of Halcyon, and Ryan has to take a moment to appreciate how downright surreal their life has gotten, and also to stop blushing in the middle of Econ class. 
They have to take time to watch Ernest’s video during a passing period, and--the video is cute, and fairly accurate, but the fact that Ernest made it at all hits them the same way the Gauntlet straining to speak to them did, and they duck into a bathroom to wipe their eyes on their hoodie sleeve until they look presentable again. 
 I've been figuring out how to show people what my synesthesia looks like through my videos, thought I’d take a try at your retrocognition. He makes it sound so simple, but until Ryan joined Big Team, they could have counted the number of people who thought their retrocognition was something other than a problem on one hand. 
There’s something wrong with that child, their father’s voice says in the back of their mind, half-remembered, and they hit replay on Ernest’s video, watching the duplicated Ernests move across the screen. Ernest cared enough to wonder what the world looked like through Ryan’s eyes.
They leave the restroom, realizing as they do that they’re smiling a lot more than they thought they would, today. 
The rest of the day passes faster than they expected. Faith waves them over to the Big Team Fanclub’s area at lunch, which they weren’t expecting but welcome anyway; classes are largely boring, but the Gauntlet is still doing its best to be more responsive than usual, and Ryan can have conversations with it. 
They were planning to stop by the museum today anyway even before Hisham’s message, so they aren’t really thinking of it when they duck through the lobby and back to the staff room. And then they stop, abruptly, because there’s a cake on the central table, seventeen candles on it, and an old “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banner hanging on the back wall. 
“Surprise!” Hisham says, from where he’s standing by the table, as Ryan gapes at the display for a second. Jeremy, who’s also in the room, pops a party popper; actually, as Ryan looks around, a lot of people are in the room. Sophie Lindholm from the Viking Exhibit, Riley Fletcher from the front desk, Tamsin Vance and some of the other interns. “It’s nothing particularly big, but--Happy birthday!” 
Ryan blinks, trying to take in what is happening. There’s a small present that they’ll bet is from Hisham on the table, the cake looks like it has oreo frosting--someone remembered it was their favorite--and everyone went out of their way to do this. 
“...Ryan?” Hisham asks, and Ryan realizes that they’ve been staring blank-faced at the display in front of them for...alarmingly long, probably. 
They weren’t expecting anything, really. They definitely weren’t expecting a birthday party. It was the kind of thing their mom would have done, but...they suppose they had resigned themselves to not getting that, this year. Not having someone looking out for them, other than their friends and maybe their sister. Their hopes had been set at “maybe a cake, from Emmy.” 
They open their mouth, unsure what they’re going to say, and give up on it after a second. Instead they just cross the space between them and wrap their arms around Hisham’s torso. They’re awkward--it’s been a while since they’ve hugged anyone significantly bigger than them; it’s been a while, honestly, since they’ve hugged anyone besides Emmy. 
But Hisham hugs them back, without a moment of hesitation, and Ryan does their level best not to start crying right then and there. They pull back, act like they’re fixing their glasses, and politely ignore that Hisham’s eyes are also a little overbright. 
“You guys didn’t have to do this,” They mumble, once they’re done fiddling with their glasses. “But, uh...thanks.” 
“You didn’t have to put in an hour overtime helping me move all the mobile exhibits in the west wing last week, either,” Tamsin says, already lighting candles. “Now get over here, we got you an entire cake and you’re going to have some of it before you go off to whatever other party you’ve got this afternoon.” 
“You’re dramatically overestimating how many people are throwing me parties,” Ryan manages, but they suppose that Emmy isn’t not going to throw them a party, albeit a small one. And Atlanta has promised cupcakes, and any gathering of Big Team that isn’t for work ends up resembling a party. They’re smiling again as they step forward to blow out the candles. 
They don’t get them all in one go, but they consider it for a moment, relight the candles using the gauntlet, and try again. Hisham laughs, and the second time, Ryan blows them all out perfectly. 
The cake is delicious, and Hisham’s present is a silver coin; Ryan places it as a Parthian tetradrachm after a moment and grins, tucking it away to study later. They’re sure it’s going to be good--coins like this tend to let them peek into marketplaces and counting-rooms from thousands of years ago, and they’ve never had one of their own before. They hug Hisham again before they head out, and it even feels less awkward this time. 
As they leave the museum, their phone buzzes with a text from Emmy.
Emmy: Hey nerd, pick what you want from the menu. Our treat. 
The attached image is a takeout menu from an indian food place, and Ryan texts back a heart and their usual order, which hasn’t changed in the past three years. They’re expecting a tease from Emmy about that, when they arrive at her and Mia’s apartment. They’re expecting a lot of things: maybe a present, definitely a call, while they’re there, from Summer and Jake, if Jake doesn’t mess up time zones again. 
And then home to the Big Team, and whatever happens there. Chaos, probably; that’s how it always seems to be. 
There are worse things, Ryan thinks, As they exit out of the texts with Emmy and head to the bus stop, they see the message from their dad again. The same message they’d gotten, year after year. The motions of caring, reliable and yet impersonal. A caring that has always been linked, in their mind, to old arguments they see in their dreams and the corners of their vision--there’s something wrong with that child, and later, there has to be a way to fix them, Violet. Bill cares about them, they know, but it’s not a caring that has room for unexpected circumstances, for their eyes or their gauntlet or, probably, their new friends. 
They think of Ernest’s video, of being dragged over to the fan club by Faith, of Emmy sharing childhood photos and Merlin getting Lily to cheet at them to bypass his inability to use a phone. Boon asking them for help coming out to Atlanta, Kurt encouraging them to ask Merlin out, Mel putting up with their weekly interruptions to ask about the safety of time travel methods. Hisham getting them a cake with their favorite icing and a coin from 141 BC, because he knew Ryan would see things in it nobody else could.The Gauntlet, struggling to speak with a mind half-missing because it knew Ryan was lonely. 
The Big Team and the people Ryan has met and rediscovered and grown closer to through it are not neat, or orderly, or reliable, except in their sheer unreliability. Their caring is similar: messy, disjointed, and unpredictable. And never expecting Ryan to be anyone or anything other than who they are, eyes and gauntlet and historical trivia and all. And while Ryan wouldn’t trust half of them to plan their way out of a paper bag with a map, they also wouldn’t trade this messy, accepting care for any other present in the world. 
Category:Rewind