Of course he does. Nothing happens to stop Link from going inside - like the gate and sign itself are resigned to the fact that they can't do anything to stop him - and the books are all free to inspect, hefty as they are. This one is a bit lighter than the others, but makes up for it with a thick, heavy bind, scuffed heavily on the corners like it's been dropped or thrown many times, and a clip holding it together that Link has to unfasten before the covers flip open on their own.

Dustin's eyes open and immediately glance at the digital alarm clock next to his bed. With the lights off and blackout curtains drawn, this only source of light is easy to find and focus on.

7:09 PM. Explains why he's awake; all he needed was a quick nap after sneaking back in through his bedroom window, and he was likely helped along by the sound of Rose closing the door to her room across the hall. There's the rhythmic tap, tap of her shoes against the vinyl, then a gentle knock.

"Dusty, I'm headed out," she says, voice muffled. Expected - she's been taking a lot of night shifts lately, and probably won't be back until almost 9 AM. Dustin's counting on it. "Make sure you check the kitchen when you get up, alright? I left something for you."

That's less expected. Dustin had heard her shuffling around the house when he'd returned, briefly sending him into a panic when he thought she might be looking for him, but eventually she settled enough to assuage his own nerves. Now the pieces are fitting together a bit neater in his head. Something for him, in the kitchen, the faint smell of baked chocolate wafting through the door...

Dustin doesn't dare go to check until well after he hears the front door open and shut, hears Rose start up her car and rumble off down the road, estimates that she's not likely to return home for some reason. Then he throws off the blankets - still mostly clothed, only grabbing an outer sweater at the end of the bed to wriggle into to fight off the ever-present chill of late autumn - and cautiously peeks down the hallway. Sure enough, just visible in the center of the kitchen table, is a small cake covered in brown icing. There's a piece of paper stuck under the plate.

It's his sixteenth birthday. Well, legally speaking anyway; no one knows when Dustin's birthday actually is, including Dustin, but this was the day Rose found him. Saved him, her friends would say. He should be more grateful.

Scowling, Dustin ignores the cake for the moment and does a quick sweep of the house. Doors and windows locked, check the closets, the bathroom, under tables and in cabinets for bugs. He verifies that Rose hasn't logged into her work computer yet before quickly shoving a flash drive into remote desktop, loading a temporary mirror of her files while simultaneously downloading the actuals. This will take some time, so in the meanwhile, Dustin prepares other things: Double-checking that his backpack still has all of the essentials and hasn't been stuck with a tracker or something like it. Making sure that he won't leave any critical items that could be used against him behind. Stuffing what pre-packaged food items he can in his pockets. He waits to grab the ASIS blueprints from the locked cabinet in Rose's work desk, picking it open easily enough, glancing over the old, tattered papers with some minor flicker of reverence before bundling them up and tucking them into his backpack with everything else.

Only then does he go back for the cake. Well, more like the note - Dustin hasn't touched anything Rose has made for him for the last two years, and he doesn't plan to start now. It's written on a folded bit of plain cardstock in Rose's distinctive draft cursive.

Happy birthday to my incredible son
I never thought I could be so proud of someone,
But you always manage to teach me something new.
Love you, little Dusty

For the first time in the month or so that Dustin's been planning for today, he feels a strong pang of regret, heavy enough to steal the breath from him as it settles in his chest.

That isn't my fucking name.

Regret flashes to resentment, the anger hot and overwhelming, making his eyes water. Dustin knits his teeth, crumples the note in his hand and shoves it in his front pocket. Then he hurries back to the computer.

The file transfer has completed. On Dustin's end he sees an empty directory where Roses's research documents used to live; when she logs in at work in about five minutes, she'll see the names - enough to keep her from suspecting anything - but as soon as she tries to interact with them, she'll find that they simply don't exist anymore. It won't take her very long to realize who the culprit is or how they stole her work, although having her figure out the responsible party isn't Dustin's primary concern. He just needs some lead time. Half a day to catch a bus and get to his contact in New Hampshire, then he can sell this shit for a new identity and disappear.

The gravity of the situation hits him again, albeit in a different way this time. Like a hand squeezing his heart as he stares down at the USB drive in his palm. Dustin takes the time to close his eyes, count his breaths. Five...four...

But when he opens them again, the back cover of the book slaps shut and the memory ends.