Chapter Text
“Orpheus?”
Nemesis’s voice came from somewhere above him, filtering through his ears as Tommy lay on the rooftop of a convenience store. He didn’t know which one. Stars swirled above him.
“Hi.” he croaked.
“Orpheus, are you okay? What happened?” Nemesis asked, reaching his side. The yellow glow of the streetlight softly lit up her face from below as she leaned over him. Her mask framed worried eyes.
Huh. They weren’t blue.
“You left in such a hurry and didn’t respond to any of our messages or calls, we thought you might be in danger,” she continued. “Hermes is driving through the Prime district, Blade’s at the docks, and Thanatos is flying over Pogtopia right now. We’ve all been looking for you.”
That . . . was wild.
Absolute bonkers.
It was also incredibly dangerous. The heroes were all on high alert, the last thing they needed was a Syndicate sighting. He opened his mouth to say as much.
“I lost him.” he whispered instead. His bones were heavy, his insides hollow and cold. The rooftop that pressed against his back wasn’t solid enough to steady him.
Nemesis’s voice was considerably softer when she spoke again. “Lost who?”
The kid who had just lost one of his front teeth. The kid who wanted to save all of them when they fell out. So he could have two sets of teeth.
Like sharks.
“Shroud.” Tommy said numbly. “He’s—he’s just a kid. I told him to call if he got scared and . . .”
He knew it would happen. He’d known, and he’d still lost him.
“They took him, Nem. I was too late. He’s gone.”
A warm hand settled gently over his. Above him, the stars bleed into each other. His skin felt like rubber. The chill of the night seeped into the air, into the roof, into his bones.
Or maybe the chill was coming from him.
He’d probably cry if he had the energy.
“I’m going to go call the others to let them know I found you,” Nemesis said, “and then I’ll be right back, okay?”
It was dangerous for her to be out in the open. Heroes patrolled the area. It wasn’t even a good idea for Tommy to be lying there, dressed as Orpheus. With the way he was, he didn’t know if he could even get Clementine to show up.
“Sure.”
The warm hand lifted, and the air left behind in its wake was colder than it had been before.
What he wouldn’t give to fall asleep; to escape this dreadful night, to rest; to have one blissful moment where he didn’t have to press back against the fear that threatened to choke him.
Who was he kidding. His sleep would have nightmares, too.
What if he told the Syndicate that he was Theseus? Would it help them at all? Could it help them get closer to finding Shroud?
He wouldn’t be able to tell them where to find the place. He didn’t remember the directions he took to get out. He couldn’t tell them how he was taken, and he was unconscious when they brought him to the endless hallways and rooms that no one escaped.
He couldn’t—couldn’t—
He didn’t actually know if he could say any of it out loud. Maybe he would simply open his mouth and then collapse into panic. Or maybe he’d freeze, trapped in his own mind. They would ask questions that only led to horrible memories and then he’d go back there, he’d live it again, he’d see it and feel it and—
“Hot chocolate?”
Tommy turned his head, furrowing his brows in confusion. Nemesis was holding two coffee cups in her hands as she settled back down beside him. How long had she been gone? And where did she get—
He slowly pushed himself up, head spinning. He wasn’t going to ask. There was some old saying in the recesses of his memory about not looking a can of worms in the mouth. It seemed applicable to this. Somehow, she got hot chocolate, and he was going to accept that.
“Thanks.” he took the cup, and oh, his hands were colder than he thought. Stiff fingers held tightly as he drew it closer to his chest.
Nemesis took a sip from her own cup, looking out over the city. Tommy watched her, clinging to her stillness, her calm. He knew his own expression was blank. There wasn't enough energy in him to change it. His chest felt hollow, empty, his ears ringing.
What if he just told her he was Theseus? Right then, right there. It wasn’t like he could make the night any worse than it was already. The words to say it rolled to the tip of his tongue, ready to spring out.
I’m Theseus. I know who took Icarus. I know who took Shroud. I’ll tell you what I ran from.
A shudder rushed down his spine, hard enough for Nemesis to notice. She glanced over, worry in her gleaming eyes, in the unnaturally still tilt of her head.
He opened his mouth.
Shut it.
The words rolled back from his tongue, shooting down his throat, choking him. He swallowed hard and looked away from Nemesis. Silence wrapped around him like a straightjacket.
Coward.
“We’ll find him.” Nemesis said softly. “We’ll find all of them.”
Tommy’s breathing was too shallow. “It’s been too long for most of them. The first fourty-eight hours are the most crucial for finding a missing kid. After that time has past, the chances of finding them alive—”
“Theseus was reported missing two years ago.” Nemesis interrupted. “It was only a couple months ago that Hermes saw him. He survived.”
Yeah, but he had healing powers. Not that he was going to tell her that, though.
What if he told her that he knew of a coffee barista who matched Theseus’s description? Some kid named Tommy or something, could they believe that?
Then he wouldn’t have to tell the Syndicate himself. He’d just . . . get cornered by one of them and they could pull it out of him. Yeah. It was like using cheat codes. At least if he couldn’t speak then, it would still tell them something. They’d know they were going down the right path. Maybe they could ask yes and no questions and he could nod and shake his head until he passed out.
It would be giving up Tommy, though. To the Syndicate.
He sighed heavily.
He’d be giving them his normal, civilian life. The one that didn’t mess around with heroes and villains and vigilantes. The life where his biggest struggles were customer service and the finicky espresso machine. Where he was a new adult in the world, living on minimum wage, third wheeling his boss and the guy who came in for the most boring coffee order of his life.
He was oddly protective of that particular slice of life he’d carved out.
But it wasn’t like the Syndicate knowing what Theseus’s face looked like would change anything, right? It couldn’t ruin anything . . . right?
It was the face that the Federation knew already, anyway.
Hmm.
Maybe that was worse.
Maybe he was going to pass out, actually.
He was going to pass out and spill the hot chocolate all over Orpheus’s outfit and he just washed this coat—
He needed to talk about something else. Anything else. Anything that wasn’t Shroud and Tommy and Theseus and the Federation and pain, pain, pain.
Nemesis. He clung to her presence by the fingernails of his sanity. She was sipping her drink, her black cape pooling around her on the roof. Calm. Steady.
Two words that Tommy wouldn’t ever use to describe himself. He cleared his throat.
“So, Nemesis,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just been seconds from a breakdown. She lifted an eyebrow just over the top edge of her lace mask. “What’s your part in all of this? The Blade and Thanatos obviously knew each other back when they were heroes, but how did you end up a part of the Syndicate?”
She blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Oh, I knew them both long before that. Never knew about their hero jobs until the Blade was in prison and Nightingale called me with a plan for a prison break. He needed my help.”
“Oh.” Tommy said, and yeah, the subject change was working. He tried to wrap his head around what that phone call had to have sounded like. “He told you who they were after Blade was arrested for killing Icarus? And you didn’t turn them in?”
“I trust them.” She said, like it was as simple as that. Like she hadn’t just faced her little brother’s horror at her being a villain. “I knew the moment Thanatos told me who the Blade was, he wasn’t the one who killed Icarus. It’s . . . hard to describe, I guess. It’s like . . . you ever have a friend who could show up at your back door with a dead body, and you’d help them hide it, no questions asked?”
Tommy didn’t have a back door. Or frie—
Well.
Yeah, actually, if Tubbo or Ranboo showed up, running from heroes, asking for his help . . .
Ranboo had sort of done that already, telling Tommy who his sister was. And if it were Tubbo . . . honestly, he wouldn’t even be surprised.
Tommy took a sip of hot chocolate.
“Blade had always been somewhat protective of Icarus.” A distant smile flickered over her face. “Once I was told who he was, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. After all, the vigilante saved his best friend from falling to his death. He’d rather push me off a building than hurt Icarus.”
Oh.
Well . . .
Huh.
“I don’t remember Icarus being such a big deal when he was alive.” Tommy said, his voice much quieter than he’d meant to make it.
Maybe he needed to become a . . . a monk, or something. Live in the Alps. Swear a vow of silence. If he didn’t speak to people, maybe they’d stop telling him things that gave him whiplash to hear.
“Well, I wasn’t such a big deal back then either.” Nemesis said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t have to explain why I don’t think my friend would kill a vigilante if that vigilante was never killed, now would I? Some things just go unsaid if there’s no reason to say them.”
“I guess.” Tommy conceded, begrudgingly. He supposed the way Icarus died might have had an impact on how he was remembered. It was odd to think about, though. “Uh, still, that was a big decision to make, joining them. You became a wanted villain overnight.”
“You are aware you’re doing the same thing, right?” Nemesis shifted to sit facing towards him. The smile that was flickering on her face had become solid. “The heroes will probably add you to the list of villains sooner or later, and you don’t even know who we are.”
He could see how it would seem that way.
She didn’t know just how well he could keep an eye on the heroes, or how easily he could slip into a different identity and disappear when things got too hot for Orpheus. She also didn’t know that technically, he did know who she was.
Tommy shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I guess to me it all seems easier to do this as a sort of, uh, business relationship, then it would be to find out your friends are wanted criminals and just . . . joining them.”
In his peripheral vision, he could see her shaking her head. “See, I think of it the other way around. If you don’t have any personal stakes in it, why put so much on the line?”
She had a point. He thought about Ranboo’s hand clutched in his, how his shaking voice had sounded over the phone. In his mind, he could hear his friend’s voice overlapped by Shroud, calling for help. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and a very faded Clementine briefly flickered into view beside him.
Why would he put so much at risk to help the Syndicate?
Because it was personal.
He was looking into the mystery of his own faked death. Because what got him before could still get him again. Because there were kids he’d left behind when he got out. Kids—some older, some younger—who had cried under his hands as he kept them alive with golden light. Kids with blurry faces, smudged outlines, echoes of a memory, because he couldn’t think too hard about that place, that time, those walls—
He was going after his own bogeyman, and when faced with something like that, maybe it was a little comforting to be doing it with some of the city’s most wanted villains.
But he couldn’t say any of that. The words to do so had been shoved so deep behind the walls of his heart that he couldn’t tear them out.
“I guess,” he said quietly, “it’s easier this way because personal stakes have never ended well for me.”
Shroud’s scream was still echoing in his ear.
“I’m sorry.” Nemesis whispered.
Tommy’s eyes glowed faintly brighter, and he turned his head to where he knew he’d see Clementine sitting beside him. Her incorporal eyes looked sad. She looked like she wanted to argue with him, to say it wasn’t true, but she didn’t.
She was probably coming up empty on proof.
“I knew some of my phantoms when they were still alive.” Tommy whispered. He didn’t know if he’d even intended for Nemesis to hear. It just felt like something he needed to say out loud.
Like it was as close as he could get to admitting something he’d been denying.
The next sip of hot chocolate went down like a thin beacon of warmth. One that faded too soon, too fast.
“So the rumors are true.” A new voice cut in from behind.
They both scrambled to their feet at the sound, spinning around. The Captain stood on the rooftop. Her gaze was sharp, piercing, and she was staring right at Tommy. “The Syndicate seems to have a new member.”
So it seemed things could get worse in one night. Brilliant.
The laugh slipped out before he could stop it. It wasn’t funny; but it was, kinda, a little. If he squinted his eyes while he thought about it. In a crazed, hysterical sort of way.
In a shield against bursting into tears kinda way.
Nemesis stepped in front of Tommy, holding out an arm to keep him back. The other hand still held her hot chocolate. “Orpheus, get out of here.”
Yeah, no way. He wasn’t leaving her to fight one of the best heroes alone, not after she’d got him a hot drink and sat with him while his life fell apart.
He wasn’t abandoning Niki. Not when the whole reason she was out there in the first place was because of him.
He gripped his hot chocolate harder, the silver in his eyes flickering brighter as he brought two phantoms into visibility. “You don’t suppose the Captain would believe me if I told her why we’re up h—”
Puffy rushed towards them, her sword suddenly too fast, too close, and Tommy was being yanked to the side by Nemesis with a yelp. He stumbled back as Nemesis let go, his phantoms rushing up barely in time to shield her from the next blow.
And the next.
Tommy rushed to the side, trying to get his bearings, trying to find an opening to help—
Feathered wings burst into sight, blocking his view. Pink ones. Pink that darkened into black at the tips.
They were from Nemesis’s back.
She shot into the sky and made a quick, sharp turn, diving back down behind Puff—the Captain. There was a dagger in her hand, her drink gone, and its sharp edge skidded across the force shield that guarded the Capta—Puffy’s back.
Puffy whirled around, her sword already arcing through the air, and all Tommy could think was I have an opening.
He threw his hot chocolate.
It splattered against the shield at the same moment that the Captain’s sword sliced through feathers, Niki just barely raising a wing to protect her. The drink did make both women pause for half a second, eyes darting to the liquid that fell to the roof, before Nik—Nemesis was back in the air, but wobbling this time. The black ends of half her feathers on one wing had been sliced off, dissolving into dust the moment they were severed.
Heart in his throat, Tommy tried to pull a phantom into visibility inside the Captain’s shield. A small form flickered there long enough to distract her for a moment, but there wasn’t enough room for it to stay.
And then Tommy was diving out of the way of Puffy’s blade slicing for him.
His breath was visible escaping from his mouth. His bones ached as another phantom appeared in front of him.
It wasn’t able to bear more than one swipe of the Captain’s sword before dissipating. The next swing was already coming, and then Nemesis was there, crashing into her. They hit the rooftop rolling, all limbs and feathers and sword.
Tommy gasped for breath. His feet were going numb. Everything was happening too fast, and he was responding too slowly.
What was he doing?
Hero and villain were grappling, one of them getting a foot underneath them, heaving them both up.
“I’m here, Theseus.” Clementine said softly into his ear. “What do I do?”
He didn’t know. Clementine didn’t often show up during the fights he got into as Orpheus. And he was fighting her mom—
Nemesis gave a short scream, and his eyes snapped back up just in time to see her flung towards him. Her wings disappeared from her back barely a second before they collided.
The wind was knocked out of him. He was vaguely aware of Nemesis scrambling back up as he struggled to get a breath in. He wasn’t being much help at all.
“Eyes over here, coward!” Nemesis yelled, somewhere above him. “Your fight is with me!”
A thin breath drew into his lungs, burning.
“Oh you think so? My fight is wi—” Puffy’s response was cut off with a short gasp.
Tommy pushed himself up, wheezing for air. What little breath he’d managed to gain left him at the sight that met his eyes.
Puff—Captain, the Captain was frozen in place, arm raised, force shield still solid around her, eyes wide as she stared at Nemesis.
Nemesis, who stood inches from her blade, hands half-raised in front of her, eyes locked on the hero. Holding her gaze. Shaking.
Keeping the Captain in place.
“Breathe, Theseus.” Clementine said, her voice tight and panicked. “Breathe!”
He inhaled, blinking the stars from his eyes.
Nemesis had . . . she . . .
She screamed, stumbling back, a hand raising to press against her temple. The Captain gasped, also stumbling as she regained control of her limbs. Tommy stood on unsteady legs. He needed to . . . do something.
The Captain rushed towards Nemesis and Tommy panicked. A phantom flickered in front of Niki as the sword came down, deflecting it just enough for it to skim the villain’s sleeve.
Without hesitation, the Captain pulled her hand back the way it came, smashing the handle into the side of Nemesis’s head.
She crumpled, and Tommy ran. He had to do something. His phantoms were too weak to protect her, he’d overused his powers before the fighting had even begun. He crashed into Puffy’s side and sent them both tumbling away from Nemesis.
“Stop, please, stop,” He gasped, fumbling to push away her sword hand as he tried to get up. She didn’t listen, of course she didn’t, but he wished she would just the same.
Nemesis wasn’t getting up. He was shaking, and numb with cold, and so, so, tired.
But he couldn’t leave without Niki and the Captain wasn’t going to stop and he could barely use his powers. He detangled his legs in time to jump back from a wild swing. “I don’t want to hurt you, please, just go.” he said desperately.
He’s hurt Puffy enough already.
Standing up, her eyes darted to the unconscious villain behind him. Her face twisted in something like anger, and she shoved him out of her way. “Should have thought about that before siding with them.”
“No, stop!” Tommy rushed after her, grabbing her arm and pulling. It was a stupid, desperate move.
But he was a stupid, desperate sort of guy.
And she was going to kill Nemesis.
Niki.
An elbow smashed into his face, causing his grip to slip from her arm. He couldn’t stop her. He had to stop her. Nothing he said or did was working.
She was steps away from Nemesis, her sword raising.
“Stop!” he yelled. He ran, but he was seconds behind. His mind was snatching desperately at straws. He couldn’t stop her.
He had to.
And he only had one idea left.
“Stop!” he screamed, the sound tearing out of his throat. He reached up and tore away his face mask.
“Puffy stop!”
The sword didn’t fall. Puffy turned her head, eyes wide. Staring. Motionless.
The two of them stood like statues in an earthquake; shaking, heaving, stuck. Tommy’s eyes flickered from silver to blue to silver. Time had halted, dragged to its knees by the weight that threatened to crush Tommy’s chest.
And then, a whisper—
“Theseus?”
Theseus. Puffy’s runaway foster kid. The boy who wouldn’t stay.
And she was Puffy. His foster mom. The woman who had welcomed him in to the only place that had felt like home since his parents died.
He wanted to wake up.
He wanted this to all be fake, a trick of his mind, a hallucination. Anything to take him away from this moment, to make it untrue.
Anything to get him away from the shock—borderline horror—in Puffy’s eyes that glued him in place.
He’d never revealed an identity before.
It was such an important rule it didn’t even count as a rule: keep the identities secret. Don’t let anyone know. Not by accident and never on purpose.
Puffy was the first to move, taking a step back, lowering her sword. Numbly, Tommy stepped into the space between her and Nemesis.
The good news was that his plan was working. The fighting had stopped.
The bad news? Nemesis was unconscious, Puffy knew who he was, there was still plenty of reason for her to arrest them both, and they were still stuck on the rooftop.
He had a feeling she wasn’t going to just walk away if he asked.
“Theseus,” Puffy breathed. “What—whe—how?”
He didn’t have a plan anymore. Not even a desperate one. All he had was a goal to get Nemesis out of there, and panic. Not even the useful panic. It was the tight, heavy, paralyzing kind. The kind that held deer captive in front of headlights.
Movement registered in his eyes, and just behind Puffy, Clementine flickered into sight. She was biting her lip, hesitantly reaching out towards her mother. Clementine had a plan.
Okay.
Tommy darted his eyes back up to Puffy.
“Please.” He said hoarsely. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for.
“What happened to you?” She asked, but not in an accusing way. She said it the way someone might ask a loved one why they’d come home bloody and bruised. Worried and sad and . . . and something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
It had been a long two years since she’d last seen him. Too much had happened. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’d picked up on that so easily. He was, after all, hanging out with the Syndicate with ghost powers.
Clementine flickered out, and then reappeared, inching closer. He wasn’t completely sure what her plan was, but she was almost there.
Then again, he wasn’t the only one who had been through a long two years. Only difference was that he knew what had happened to her. His voice came out in a whisper. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
Clementine’s icy fingertips touched her mother’s hand, and his breath caught, realizing what she was trying to do. What she's only done once before.
Puffy’s eyes fluttered closed, and Tommy rushed forward to catch her as she fell, carefully easing her down onto the rooftop. Fast asleep.
And then he stood there in silence, the night crashing down onto his shoulders.
He wasn’t going to think about what he’d just done. He wasn’t going to think about what he’d just revealed.
He was going to . . . to find his face mask. And put it back on.
And then he was going to check on Nemesis. Yeah.
She was fine. That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway. She was fine, she was going to be fine. He tried to check her pulse but his hands were shaking too badly. She was breathing though, so her heart was probably beating, right?
His vision went blurry, and he tried to blink it away; he needed to see, he needed to do something. Nemesis was unconscious, and hurt, and she’d almost died.
His breathing sped up but the air he needed evaded him. It was just him there. Just him, a lone vigilante, on a rooftop with a sleeping hero and an unconscious villain.
His old foster mom and his friend’s half-sister.
There was a hysterical laugh trapped somewhere inside him, hopelessly lost.
He couldn’t do this. He wanted to curl up in a ball and shut his eyes and hope for everything to go away, to fix itself. But Nemesis was still hurt. She was still a wanted villain. He couldn’t let another hero find them, especially not with Puffy lying unconscious nearby.
Tommy had to take care of this, and then he could go find a hidden corner to cry in. Maybe stay there for a few days. Maybe never come out.
But that had to be later.
His fingers were stiff and uncoordinated as he fumbled to pull out his phone. Help. He needed help. He should call . . . someone.
Ranboo, maybe. But Ranboo had promised that the next time he’d see Nemesis, he’d arrest her. He might not, though, not with her like this. He might panic instead and teleport her to the hospital—wait no, he couldn’t do that, not with her as Nemesis.
Tommy couldn’t think. He pulled out his vigilante phone and stared at it, breathing hard and fast. His head felt light and achy. For some reason, he considered calling Nemesis for help, before remembering that she was the one he was calling help for.
His mind was oddly and unhelpfully blank. He stared at his phone without a single thought behind his eyes.
Help. Right.
He needed to call for help. He needed . . . Blade.
The Blade would know what to do.
Tommy pulled up his contact and called him, trying to bully himself into calming down and failing miserably. He wanted to fall apart. He was shaking hard enough that he might be already.
He was a mess but someone needed to get Nemesis.
“Orpheus?” The Blade’s voice swept over him and he nearly collapsed at the sound.
“Blade.” He said. It was going to be okay. Nemesis was going to be okay. “Can you get here? I’m at, uh—”
An unexpected sob in the back of his throat cut him off.
“Orpheus?!” The urgency in Blade’s voice was giving him an odd sense of déjà vu. Was that what he’d sounded like when Shroud called him?
“I’m on a r-rooftop of a convenience store in—in—where Nemesis found me. Please, it’s bad. I can’t—I—please help.” His voice cracked. “I can’t do this.”
“I’m coming. Are you hurt? Are you still in danger?”
“No.” He reached out and grabbed Nemesis’ hand. “But Nem—”
He lost his voice to tears. He’d held it together for too long, and now he was finally shattering apart. Between crying and panicked breathing, he dropped the phone; his hands like cold rubber.
He was too tired to reign in his sobs. Too overwhelmed to make decisions. Too drained to do anything to help the two unconscious women around him.
He was too young for this.
At some point he’d buried his face in his hands. Everything was wet and cold and he wouldn’t mind it half as much if his nose didn’t join in and start running. Breathing in hurt because he was taking such big gasps for air and it was all through his mask and why was crying so much work.
“Hey, hey, Orpheus, it’s me,” a low voice cut in, and there were hands on his shoulders, pushing him up. “I’m here, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m going to check on Nemesis. She’s gonna be fine.”
The hands left his shoulders, but he only swayed a little before finding the solid form of the Blade crouching beside him. Something steady to lean on. He felt like he was twelve. Nine. A small age that didn’t have to pay attention to his surroundings while he hurt.
The Blade was murmuring something, but he wasn’t listening. Couldn’t. Didn’t have to.
A small, confused feminine voice reached his ears, and he let himself go boneless with relief. Nemesis was awake. Alive.
Good.
He was going to cry some more about it.
His head felt like static, stars exploding behind his eyelids. His breathing was an erratic mess and his tears went from hot to cold as they escaped from his eyes. A gust of wind rolled over him, and a new voice joined the others.
He heard someone say ‘Thanatos’, so he didn’t worry about it. He wasn’t sure he actually could have if he’d needed to. If someone from the Federation itself showed up he’d simply have to tell them to take a number and wait.
Broken laughter mixed in with his tears at the thought.
The Blade shifted, and his hands returned to Tommy’s shoulders. “—nd then come back for Nemesis. I’ve got him.”
Tommy sniffled, a hiccuping sob shuttering through him. The voices around him were clearer than before.
“—uld I leave her?” Thanatos was asking. His voice was from the same direction that Tommy had left the Captain laying in.
Tommy let his head fall forward, and it collided with the Blade’s chest. It felt good. Like a release of tension to a headache he hadn’t noticed. He left it there.
“Just somewhere that isn’t here.” the Blade said, and Tommy could feel his voice rumble through his bones. “Hospital maybe? Doctors are less likely to prioritize calling the police over taking care of a patient.”
There was shuffling, and then another gust of wind that Tommy realized was probably from Thanatos’s wings.
“N-Nem?” his voice wobbled.
“She’s here, she’s okay.” Blade said. A light groan came from nearby. “Gonna have a killer headache, but she’ll be fine.”
Tommy shivered. He couldn’t stop doing that shuttering inhale thing that came with crying. He was pretty sure his tears were just from exhaustion now. Whatever adrenaline he’d had during the fight had long since gone, leaving a particular hollowness behind.
That was fine.
“I couldn’t save him.” he whispered, “and then I thought I w-was gonna lose her too.”
The Blade shifted into a better sitting position. “I got you.”
Fresh tears slipped down faster than the ones before. Like they’d missed their cue before and were racing to catch up. “I couldn’t—m-my powers.”
“Everything’s alright. It’s over.”
“It’s jus—just been a—” he took another shaky breath. “Long day.”
The Blade was talking, but he couldn’t pick out the words anymore. He let the man’s voice wash over him while he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended that he was on the edge of sleep.
It was almost good enough to be the real thing.