Sarah’s relationship with Emily had always come naturally, instinctively. No surprise there - Emily was her firstborn after all - her biological daughter - not to mention she shared inherent traits with her mother - attention to detail, a startlingly high emotional intelligence, a hint of sassiness. All in all, she reminded Sarah a lot of herself as a child.

  She had an equally warm relationship with Daniel, having considered him her adopted child for some time, even when he had pretended to be an adult. It truly did not matter to her in the least that both her children shared one body, and had wholeheartedly accepted and embraced this fascinating existence.

  However, since learning that Daniel was in fact a child himself - one who needed the same guidance and love that Emily did - something had shifted. It was subtle—a gentleness, a warmth that Daniel felt before he fully understood.

  Her voice softened whenever she spoke to him, even when he slipped back into old cursing habits. She paused a hair longer after his ‘arguments’ with Emily, quietly smiling rather than stepping in directly.

  Occasionally, when he was the one driving, she'd reach out to smooth his hair or straighten his collar—small, affectionate gestures that surprised and thoroughly confused him, even as he found himself quietly savoring each moment.

  Initially, Daniel dismissed this new ‘working relationship’ as his mom merely adjusting to their…circumstances. He shrugged, didn't question it too deeply, instead quietly enjoying the unexpected tenderness of being treated like - well, a loved child.

  Until the chicken incident…

  —

  Dinner had begun as it always did.

  Thomas shared a story about a particularly challenging patient, while Sarah moved effortlessly around the kitchen, dishing out a variant on the chicken marsala from Daniel’s universe (Emily had provided her with the core recipe of course). Daniel, temporarily switched out with Emily to thank his parents for the food, offer compliments, and prepared to personally enjoy a few bites before Emily inevitably took the wheel again and attacked the plate like a voracious hyena.

  However, before he could move, Sarah stepped over and began cutting his chicken into small, bitesize chunks, chatting casually with Thomas as though nothing unusual was happening.

  Daniel froze, knife and fork suspended mid-air, stunned. He looked up at his mother, who hadn’t noticed that her child was staring at her as if she had grown two heads.

  “Uh…Emily?” he asked internally, not sure what he should feel. “What exactly is Mom doing?”

  Emily was suspiciously quiet, though he felt her amusement radiating like a beacon. Daniel frowned, why was she stifling her laughter? Why had she blocked herself off from their shared space? What was he missing?

  Sarah glanced at him - “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

  “Well, I’m grateful for the food and all. I love this dish” Daniel began slowly, carefully.

  He looked up to gaze at his mother, paused and then gestured vaguely at his plate with both hands - “Just curious why you decided to, you know…this?”

  “Oh,” Sarah said softly, her tone almost amused. “Don’t worry about it, you looked distracted. I did it without thinking.”

  “Huh?” - Daniel stared helplessly at his neatly diced chicken. “I..well…I appreciate it, Mom, but I'm not five. I'm at least thirteen, remember? Or something?”

  Sarah just smiled affectionately, reaching over to gently pat his cheek.

  “I know, baby. It was just instinct.”

  Daniel sat there, staring in quiet horror at his meticulously cut dinner. What in all that was holy, had just happened? He felt completely disarmed, helpless - and wasn’t sure if he was overthinking this?

  Until he laser focused in on one, particular word that Sarah had just said.

  “Baby.”

  “Wait a minute..?” he muttered to himself as he looked up at his mom who was now chatting with his Dad, absolutely oblivious to his plight.

  “Baby? BABY? What the actual fu—” He couldn’t even finish the thought before Emily burst into hysterical laughter in their shared mindspace.

  “Oh my God! She called you baby!” Emily wheezed. “You’re never living this down.”

  Daniel’s eye twitched as he looked down and squinted. “This isn't funny, Em! Baby? Cutting my da*ned chicken? Shrimp, I used to run projects. I had an apartment—I paid rent—”

  “Oh, whatever, ‘Mr. I-Used-to-Run-Projects.’ For all your worldly experience, you never saw this coming? You’re getting mommed into oblivion big bro!”

  Daniel scowled internally, still staring blankly at his diced chicken.

  In a word, baffled.

  Mommed? Was he seriously getting mommed? Was that even a word?

  Emily giggled again - clearly enjoying every second of her brother’s discomfort.

  “She’s nesting, buddy. Like…MAJOR MAJOR nesting. Just let her get it out of her system.”

  Daniel glanced back at his mother, who was understandably oblivious to the frantic internal dialogue between her son and daughter.

  He sighed heavily - “I’m doomed. Oh boy. Oh fu-”

  He couldn’t complete the curse. Emily merely howled with laughter.

  —

  Daniel didn’t talk much about his biological family from his original universe.

  Sometimes, in rare, unguarded moments, tiny fragments would slip through — but they always carried the edge of old wounds, scars that stubbornly refused to heal. He had never told Emily the whole truth - that his mother, for all intents and purposes, had abandoned him.

  In part, to protect his sister.

  He had once reluctantly admitted to Emily that he couldn’t control the flow of memories as cleanly as he would have liked.

  Some memories were all or nothing.

  As such, he kept memories that were not appropriate for Emily from her - some because he feared contamination, others because he did not want to risk trauma dumping on her.

  However, another reason he didn’t talk about his biological mother was - he never quite knew why she abandoned him.

  He only knew that he had carried the guilt and anger with him for the rest of his short life.

  On quiet nights, when he stayed with the few family members who had cared — a grandparent, a kind aunt or uncle — he used to wonder what it would feel like.

  To have a mother who wanted him.

  Who chose him.

  Who gave a damn whether he existed at all.

  By the end, even the memories of her had blurred. Snippets remained — flashes of faces at holidays, soft, morphed voices at the edges of crowded rooms, but they felt like someone else’s memories, like echoes.

  Sarah, though - she was the mother he had always wished for. Prayed for.

  Kind. Protective. Unflinchingly loyal.

  The type who would end all of existence if it ever hurt her family.

  Even if she did put the fear of God in Daniel if she caught him cursing.

  Frankly, she had been his mom, in her heart if not in words, for longer than either of them fully understood—maybe from the moment he’d arrived in this universe. Definitely since the night she’d met him in the Dreamscape, excited and nervous all at once, as he helped Emily recover from her near death experience.

  He thought back to that moment often, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  Sarah had stumbled into the Dreamscape by sheer accident, crossing a boundary she didn’t know existed. And yet—she hadn’t hesitated - she’d seen him, truly seen him - perhaps even guessed at what he was hiding.

  Then she’d said the words that had burned themselves in his heart since -

  “You’re like my child as Emily is, even if it took me time to realize it.

  I’ve come to realize that you’re just as much a part of me as she is.

  If you want to... you can call me 'Mom…once again'”

  That moment wasn’t new and yet every time Daniel thought about it, it still made his chest fill with a warmth radiating from his very center - like a sun exploding into existence.

  He’d even shown the memory to Emily once - she’d gone still, unusually silent, tearful even. She’d never said anything afterward. She didn’t need to.

  It was a special moment, the gravity of which even his gremlin of a sister understood.

  No - life was good - frankly, perfect - barring one little difference.

  Before his age and real self had come out, Sarah had treated him like some wise, steady presence. An adult, a guardian, a guide - someone she leaned on almost as much as Emily did.

  He hadn’t minded it - not really - even if it did come with a level of pressure.

  Now, however, that she knew the secret - for the first time in two existences - Daniel found himself being ‘mothered.’

  In some ways, it was liberating - getting to be a child again, not having to carry the weight of, well, everything - was rather enjoyable.

  In others? Confusing. Mortifying. Beyond embarrassing.

  Case in point, later that night after the chicken cutting episode, the family settled in to watch a movie. Emily promptly decided the movie was boring, announced she'd be retreating to the Dreamscape to watch some ‘real movies’ from Daniel’s memories, and promptly booted her brother into the driver’s seat.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Daniel blinked in confusion as his senses readjusted to the abrupt change. He glanced at his parents, who were settling on the couch beside him.

  “Hey Emily booted me out, she is gallivanting in the dreamscape” he said with a shrug. “I guess she didn’t like this movie, but if it's okay with you,” he said, pulling the blanket up around him - “I'd kinda like to stick around and watch this. There's still so much new stuff for me in this universe, you know?”

  Sarah's eyes flicked toward him, softening instantly.

  “Of course! Glad you have better taste than your sister…this is a classic!”

  However, in the next moment, without missing a beat, she leaned over, carefully tucking the blanket around him.

  Daniel froze, staring blankly at the blanket. He looked up again, shot a confused, bewildered look toward his father.

  Thomas’s eyes connected with him, who coughed, and turned away, his shoulders gently shaking in suppressed laughter.

  “What the hell just happened?” he thought numbly as he felt the velvety texture of the blanket.

  Sarah, entirely oblivious to his stunned silence, went right back to watching the movie.

  With an irritated sigh, Daniel loosened the blanket and nudged it away slightly. Within seconds, Sarah—eyes still fixed on the screen—reached over and tucked him right back in again.

  Daniel stared at her, dumbfounded, his jaw threatening to hit the floor.

  Unfortunately for him this wasn't an isolated incident - Sarah was relentless and the pattern presented itself in new ways every day.

  If Sarah realized he was driving the body, she'd kiss his forehead in passing without thinking. She’d tut softly if she noticed him padding around without socks. She nagged him—gently, lovingly—about not drinking his milk, reminding him that growing boys needed calcium.

  His attempts to explain—that it was technically Emily’s body, and therefore Emily who needed the milk, and that his identity as a teenage boy was more a little more psychological than truly physical—fell completely on deaf ears.

  Sarah was nesting - far more intensely than Daniel could have predicted.

  Thomas was of no help. He quickly exited such scenes, barely able to control his laughter.

  And Emily? She was incorrigible. Worse than incorrigible.

  Daniel stood silently, staring at his unwanted glass of milk, feeling utterly defeated as Emily’s laughter echoed through their shared mind.

  “Oh my God, you are her BABY BOY,” Emily announced gleefully. “How does it feel, baby brother?”

  Danny shut his eyes, groaning in resignation - hoping this nightmare ended soon.

  —

  After a few days of relentless ‘momming,’ Daniel finally worked up the courage to approach Sarah—albeit cautiously.

  “Mom?” he called, carefully swapping control with Emily. “Danny here. You got a second?”

  Sarah turned from folding laundry, smiling warmly the moment she recognized his tone. “Yes, sweetheart?”

  Daniel hesitated, scratching at the back of his head—his trademark tic when nervous.

  “Uh…” he started, trailing off. Because honestly? He wasn’t sure how to say any of this without sounding like a total idiot.

  Sarah, ever the mom, caught the hesitation instantly. She set the laundry down, tilting her head - “What is it?”

  Daniel shuffled his feet, glancing away—only to feel a sharp, unhelpful nudge from Emily.

  "Move it, you sap! This is gonna be entertaining."

  Gritting his teeth at her, Daniel finally looked back at Sarah and blurted, “You’re… different with me now.”

  Sarah blinked—then smiled softly, as though she’d been expecting this conversation. Perhaps, Daniel realized, she had in fact been expecting.

  “You know what I mean,” he added quickly, desperate not to sound ungrateful. “You’re… treating me differently.”

  “I suppose I am,” she admitted with a shrug of her own.

  The blunt honesty surprised him.

  He crossed his arms, tilting his head—half confused, half curious.

  “…Why?”

  Sarah stepped forward, reaching out instinctively to fix his collar - again.

  “Because you’re my son,” she said simply.

  Daniel frowned. “Yeah, but—you knew that before, right? I mean… you ‘adopted’ me. You’ve known this for a while now.”

  Sarah’s smile grew wistful. “I did,” she agreed.

  More slowly, she added - “But before… I saw you as someone protecting Emily. Someone older. Someone more like—”

  “—a second adult,” Daniel finished, almost hopeful. “You know I still have my knowledge, right? All my experience? Literally two universes worth of it? I’m still watching out for Shrimp?”

  “I know you are,” Sarah smiled. “You can’t help yourself. I know that.”

  She cupped his cheek, thumb brushing gently across his skin. “But now I see you, Danny. Really see you.”

  A pause.

  “What does that even mean?” Daniel wondered to himself, his throat tight, his heart clenching.

  Oddly enough, Emily was quiet—radiating something… tender.

  Sarah threaded her fingers through his hair absently, like a mom lost in her own thoughts.

  “You’re not a guardian spirit. You’re not some wise old soul sent here to protect her. You’re my son. And I should’ve been treating you like my child this whole time.”

  Daniel swallowed hard. He had no idea what to say.

  Sarah sighed softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

  “I’m your mom. That means I worry about you. That means I take care of you.”

  Danny sighed in return - “I can cut my own food….”

  Sarah laughed, pulling him into a hug before he had any chance of escaping.

  “I know, baby,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But I’m still gonna do it sometimes.”

  Danny groaned, muffled against her shoulder. “Could you at least stop calling me ‘baby’? You don’t even call Emily that.”

  And right on cue, from the depths of their mind, Emily cackled.

  Daniel glared upward and jabbed a finger toward his temple.

  “Your other kid gives me so much grief when you call me that.”

  Sarah pulled away, just smiled knowingly, moving back to fold the laundry.

  “BABY. BABY BOY DANNY. You can never escape it now,” Emily sing-songed gleefully.

  “Shut up, Emily…” Daniel muttered, glancing at his mother as he walked away - still confused.

  “I CAN’T. THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ME.”

  —

  Of course, Emily wasn’t just a perpetual prankster or an instigator—Daniel knew that better than anyone. Beneath the sarcasm, the smirks, the constant teasing, he was aware of her remarkably high emotional intelligence - with or without him.

  Which was why, one day when Daniel came close to snapping after another relentless round of ‘momming,’ Emily—stepped in, perhaps realizing that it was her turn to guide him.

  To be the Guardian.

  "EM. SHRIMP! AAAARGH," Daniel screamed silently in their mindspace.

  Emily, lazily from wherever she was lounging in the dreamscape hummed, “Yes, baby boy?”

  Daniel paced the bedroom, hands gesticulating wildly in agitation.

  "Make it stop. Please," he grumbled. "I love Mom, but I’m not five. I’m not helpless. I’m not—"

  "—a mother’s brand-new son who recently almost died alongside his sister in a tragic, traumatic accident?"

  Daniel froze, blinking. "What?"

  He felt something else radiate from within. His sister was thinking, considering her words - carefully. This was a sense of gravity, of inescapable seriousness to it.

  A moment later, she softly said — “Come on. Meet me in the Dreamscape.”

  Daniel frowned but acquiesced. He closed his eyes, breathing slow and steady, feeling that familiar pull—and then the world changed.

  They stood beneath a golden-orange sky, the sun beginning to set. Tall, bare branched trees stood around them, shimmering with an inexplicable glow. The air smelled woodsy, earthy, faintly sweet, almost floral. A trail wound its way through the trees, somehow glowing in the fading light. Elsewhere, out of sigh, Daniel heard the sound of Emily and his beloved stream - the first feature they had conjured together in the dreamscape.

  Emily, dressed in a comfortable puffer coat and jeans, her head covered in a puffy red hat, motioned to him to join her.

  Daniel obliged.

  For a long time, the two siblings merely walked, neither saying a word. Their footsteps crunched over fallen leaves, mingling with the occasional, distant chirp of unseen birds.

  “Wow, she outdid herself” Daniel thought with an occasional glance at his sister.

  No matter the circumstance, he was proud of her.

  She inevitably found ways to surprise those around her - be it with creativity, focus, kindness, sassiness, encouragement or a firm kick to the rear.

  He sighed, closing his eyes and lifting his head to feel the cool wind blow through his hair.

  Finally, Emily broke the silence, her voice serious, calm. Daniel felt the shift instantly and realized that his sister was about to share some of her wisdom.

  "Listen, genius," she started, her voice surprisingly gentle.

  "Mom just found out she has another child. A literal child. Same body or not—it doesn’t matter to her. That’s a lot to process."

  Daniel opened his mouth, but Emily gave him a look—a quiet plea to just listen.

  "And not just that," she continued.

  Daniel felt it then—a soft pull in their shared mind. Memories neither of them wanted, but couldn’t escape. The accident, the hospital, the grief that had haunted Sarah’s face when she saw Emily injured in the hospital.

  "Last year," Emily murmured, eyes fixed on the horizon, "she thought she lost me. Her only daughter."

  She stopped walking, placing a hand on Daniel’s shoulder - "But what she didn’t know at the time was she almost lost you too."

  Daniel’s breath caught. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

  Emily’s gaze softened as she gently squeezed her brother’s shoulder.

  "And now? Now she knows. She knows she came this close to losing both of us. Two children.”

  They stood there, the woods quiet around them.

  "She met her invisible son, in a dream world she’s not sure she can even reach again," Emily added quietly. "She knows you’re carrying things she can’t fix.”

  A pause.

  “And she’s nervous, Danny. Maybe even scared, scared of losing you before she even gets the chance to be your mom."

  Emily exhaled slowly as she gazed up through the trees.

  "She’s nesting, Danny. Hard. Because she just got you… and she can’t lose you."

  She paused, her brow furrowed as she added more softly - “She can’t lose either of us.”

  Daniel closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. "I’m not going anywhere."

  Emily gave him a sad smile. "She doesn’t know that, does she?"

  She let that hang in the air a moment, before continuing. "Think about it—she thought she had one daughter. Now? She has two kids in one body. And she’s realized, one of those kids has been sacrificing himself over and over just to protect the other."

  The wind picked up slightly, rustling the trees. Daniel shivered, folding his arms.

  He was unsure why he was cold - the dreamscape was their domain to control, weather, temperature. Perhaps it was his nerves, or chills from the weight of what Emily was sharing.

  "So what do I do, Em? Just… wait this out?"

  Emily smirked, a flash of her usual self.

  "Roll with it. Be compassionate. You’re good at that, bro. You put up with me daily, don’t you?"

  Daniel huffed but didn’t argue.

  "Let Mom get it out of her system," Emily added. "She’ll ease up. Eventually. Somewhat."

  Daniel kicked a pebble down the path. "She is gonna stop calling me baby, right?"

  Emily grinned as she shook her head, silently laughing.

  “It will stop, I’m certain the whole baby thing is a phase. Yeah, she’ll always be protective. That part isn't changing. But don’t worry, the whole—cutting-your-food, tucking-you-in thing? That’ll fade once she feels like you’re safe."

  She glanced sideways, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Might take a couple weeks… maybe."

  Daniel groaned. "That long, huh?"

  Emily bit her lip. "Or…" she added with way too much amusement, "possibly forever."

  Daniel tripped over nothing, scowling. "I hate you."

  Emily just laughed, the sound echoing through the trees like wind through leaves.

  "No, you don’t. You love me. I’m your little sister."

  Daniel sighed, but even he smiled faintly as they kept walking—twilight deepening around them.

  —

  Time had a way of smoothing out even the strangest of circumstances. As Emily and Daniel had learned many times before - what was once extraordinary eventually became routine.

  What seemed overwhelming slowly settled into normal.

  Much like when Sarah first learned about Emily and Daniel’s dual consciousnesses, there were adjustments—awkward, messy, necessary—until a new equilibrium quietly came to be.

  Sarah did ease up—eventually.

  The food-cutting, the blanket-tucking, the unsolicited head-patting all slowed as she grew more comfortable with the reality of having two children—one body or not. The ‘hyper-momming’ phase faded, replaced by something steadier—a mother caring for both her children, even when only one could be seen.

  Emily and Daniel knew she was patiently waiting for the day she could see them both, side by side, in that incredible dreamworld they’d created.

  But until then, every now and then, it still happened - she reverted.

  One morning, weeks later, Daniel sat groggily at the kitchen table, blinking at the plate in front of him. Emily was still asleep, leaving him to handle the morning routine alone.

  He reached for an apple slice—then froze.

  It was already pre-cut.

  Slowly, he looked up—in his mother’s direction.

  She smiled innocently, cradling her coffee cup like nothing was amiss.

  Daniel exhaled extra hard, dropping his head to the table with a dull thud.

  A moment later, he sat up, grabbed the apple slice, and ate it without another word, grateful for this existence. This mom.

  Sarah just patted his head, her smile widening ever so slightly.

  And life went on.