To Keefe's surprise, Tiergan's first instruction was to Keefe, not Fitzphie.
He told Keefe he'd have to stop after every breakthrough—not because of the emotional toll but because his mind would have to adjust and make space for the new memory.
Keefe appreciated that Tiergan wasn't coddling him—but also, somehow, appreciated that Foster was.
She cared.
So then after Tiergan and Elwin both lectured all three of them on proceeding carefully, Keefe insisted that he was ready for what he called 'heart-crushing humiliation'—joking and yet not joking—and 'lots of Fitzphie eye staring'.
And then Tiergan gave him some news that made it just a little bit less scary. Less humiliating.
He told Keefe he could hide embarrassing memories or any he didn't want them to see.
Keefe didn't understand at first how it would help to hide memories when they were supposed to be searching memories, but then it seemed really obvious when Tiergan pointed out it was things he didn't remember that they were trying to trigger. So anything he did remember wouldn't really matter.
Tiergan promised it was a simple process that would only take a few minutes, and Fitz joked that he didn't really need to see what Keefe was hiding.
Keefe couldn't help but smirk at that one.
If only Fitz knew how true that was.
And then Ro looked like Elwin was her new best friend when he asked her to help make a stinky serum with pooka pus.
Ogres were weird.
Then it was time to get started. Keefe flinched when Tiergan reached for his temples.
"Sorry, I always forget how grabby you Telepaths are."
And it was a lot less fun when it wasn't Foster—he didn't mind, so much, having her that close. She could invade his personal space all she wanted.
But at least with Tiergan he wouldn't have to work so hard to control his thoughts.
Last time Sophie did this, he couldn't help but imagine her hands moving from his temples to his cheeks as he kissed her.
Which was a really hard image to shake away before she entered his mind.
Tiergan instructed him to picture an empty box in his mind, and give it a color.
And told him the color should have a connection to him in some way.
Immediately, the box in his mind was gold.
His favorite color.
He may not broadcast that fact, but gold had been his favorite color for a couple of years now.
Gold, like those flecks in Foster's beautiful brown eyes.
Those eyes that filled his thoughts and his dreams.
He remembered the first time he met her, the shock he got at seeing brown eyes for the first time.
She was usually embarrassed by the color of her eyes, since everyone else had differing shades of blue, and she thought brown was boring.
But it wasn't.
It was new and warm and inviting and deep.
Just like her.
Oops. He knew when he made the box gold, he'd also been picturing Foster's eyes. Had Tiergan seen that?
But the next words Tiergan said were, "don't tell me what color you pick."
"Can't you see it?" Keefe asked immediately.
"I'm not reading your mind. Why do you think I haven't asked your permission to enter your consciousness?"
Thank goodness for that.
"I guess that's a good question. But a better one might be: then why are you touching my face?"
"To make the process more tangible for you. Can you see the box?"
Keefe could. So Tiergan told him to take all of those memories he didn't want Foster and Fitz to see and place them in the box.
He did so, placing pretty much every memory he had with Foster in there.
If they saw his memories with her, they'd also experience his emotions from those memories.
And of all the different ways he'd imagined telling her how he felt about her, this definitely never made the list.
So he was extremely grateful to have a chance to avoid it—if it worked.
But it felt pointless, and he said as much.
Tiergan told him it was hard to understand the workings of a different ability, but Keefe pointed out that he was picking up a lot of confusion from Foster, too.
Tiergan promised they'd understand soon, and told him to close the box.
It still felt ridiculous.
"Now what?" he asked.
"That's it."
"That's it?"
It was time.
And Fitz's turn to place his fingers on Keefe's temples. But Foster kept her good hand in her lap, merely closing her eyes in concentration.
"So...are they just supposed to stay away from the big box o' secrets?" Keefe asked, still unsure how that whole exercise had worked.
"It was never about the box, Keefe," Tiergan told him.
"Oh!" Foster breathed, seemingly in awe of whatever she was seeing. "It was about the color!"
"The box was gold, wasn't it?" Fitz asked.
Trying very hard not to think about why he'd picked gold, Keefe nodded.
Fitz and Foster were both grinning, so Keefe asked why. Foster explained that some of his memories were gilded. So apparently, those memories weren't locked away in a box but were merely tinted gold.
So any memories they were in, they'd be able to see...and potentially wonder why he'd hidden them. He knew they wouldn't peek, but still.
Even with all the Foster memories put off-limits, this was an incredibly vulnerable place to be. They didn't seem to really be monitoring his thoughts yet, too enamored with his memories.
Fitz said Keefe had gilded a lot of memories, but Tiergan pointed out that those had all been pulled to the front of Keefe's mind and that there would be less gold as they pushed through.
"So...should we do that?" Foster still felt uncertain.
"I don't see why not."
"Me neither," Keefe agreed, but his voice sounded feeble to his own ears and he tensed, even squeezing his eyes shut as he braced himself for what was coming.
He felt Foster's concern even before she spoke up. "We don't have to--"
"Yes, Foster," he cut her off, opening his eyes to look at her. "We do. You know we do."
"Okay," she said slowly. "But then I need you to do one thing."
She held out her good arm, shaking the makeshift bracelet he'd made to hold her Prattles pins. "Take Krakie for backup."
Not even Keefe could fully explain to himself the way that made him feel.
Such a small gesture, but...it was a shared moment between the two of them, an intimate moment, the day he gave her that pin. And she was bringing it up again now, comforting him like he'd comforted her.
By asking him to take their pin for backup.
His heart somehow swelled and broke at the same time.
He knew something of that came across in his expression, but none of them questioned him about it.
So he merely nodded and reached out, carefully unpinning the kraken and fastening it to his cape.
Feeling, inexplicably, more brave now, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Okay. For real this time. Let's find what my mom hid."