Thank You For The Lovely Bouquet 💐

This wasn't the first time a mission had ended in near disaster.

The time he had gone out on his own, jealously and desperation in proving he belonged resulting in getting himself trapped in an avalanche, narrowly avoiding hypothermia and crushed bones.

The time that his sister mercilessly and carelessly smashed her chip into a million tiny pieces, resulting in him and his brother nearly dying in a fire while trying to save employees at a chemical plant.

The time when they were evacuating a steel mill and his signal to the outside world was cut off by a interference in the roof, and said roof coming down on him along with his siblings, resulting in his younger brother jumping over an industrial grinder while pulling him out, ripping a good chunk of skin from his ankle.

And now this.

Another run in with the shapeshifters, another chance to stop them before they got their hands on the Superhero List, and they had been forced to pull away in order to save lives in a brownstone.

That part didn't bother Chase as much as it bothered the members of his team with an ax to grind with Roman & Riker, he and his sister had always prioritized saving lives over catching the bad guy and this was no different.

What was different though was that it wasn't Adam and Leo with them, it was Oliver, Skylar and Kaz.

Skylar, who was so used to being on her own that she ignored nearly all of his orders as mission leader, Oliver, who was still really mad at Chase about everything that had gone down while he was just trying to restore Skylar's powers, and Kaz, who actually did listen most of the time, but tended to focus on his gut instinct over anything else.

Add that to the fact that the prototype for their mission suits were having the final touches put on when the alert went off, and they were seriously out of their element.

They got everyone out before the building collapsed, and they managed to walk away from it semi-unscathed, but between Skylar narrowly avoiding a large chunk of roof from crushing her, and the slow, steady sting across his right wrist where a broken pipe had scratched him, it had been way too close.

Maybe that's why, when he got down to Mission Command just as Douglas was stepping back from the final mannequin, he was met with a questioning look that had him snapping, "what?"

"You look wrecked," Douglas said, raising his hands in mock surrender for a brief moment, "how bad was it?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Chase muttered as he pulled up the mission logs, opening a new one to add in the disaster of a mission.

"Chase."

There was something about the cadence of his voice when he said his name like that, it always made the truth tumble out of his mouth before he could even consider if he really wanted to let him in on what was going on.

Douglas had been back in his life for nearly two years now, but that cadence was still the same as the time he had tried to get him to betray his family back in Antarctica.

"This team really needs a crash course on how to follow their mission leader."

Douglas just clicked his tongue, allowing Chase to begin to type the report for a few, brief moments before suggesting, "you wanna go show the team their new suits? Boost some morale before you and Donnie rip them a new one?"

He was exhausted, his arm was still stinging and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to type this god-awful report before heading to his capsule for the night.

But maybe Chase had been a little too hard on himself, maybe he could use the welcome distraction.

So he agreed, and walked into the hyper-lift with Douglas' hand on his shoulder, leaving the mission report incomplete for the night.

He had no idea just how big of a mistake that was.

…

Chase had hidden injuries before; he really tried to avoid it so he didn't get looks of confused anger and because the pain only tended to be worse the longer he waited, but he had done it before.

The bruised ribs he had gotten in the avalanche had been one of the worst ones, not trusting Douglas to wrap them and not wanting to break the trust he had almost completely lost from Mr. Davenport, he had wrapped them himself the second he was able to get away from the claps on the back and the prying eyes.

The bruises and scrapes from Adam had been another example, he hadn't even done that intentionally but long, plaid shirts over his t-shirts made more sense for his style anyway.

So when he had gotten scratched on the pipe during the mission, still pissed at the team's performance, it hadn't even occurred to him to tell someone.

He just bandaged it up after typing out the mission report, deciding to let it heal on its own; that was before he started fighting with Skylar, before coming to a sobering realization.

The only way that this team was going to work is if he wasn't mission leader anymore.

So, he dissolved the title, and a sense of himself along with it, before making the terrifying phone call to Mr. Davenport.

"Chase, you're sure about this? You've had that title since you were twelve."

"I'm sure," Chase insisted, wincing as he ran a hand over his wrist, the phone propped to his ear by his shoulder, "It's time for me to figure out who I am without it, and besides, if I didn't, this team would have fallen apart."

"What do you mean?"

"Bree listens, she's used to it. Kaz goes with his gut and if I say something against that, he listens to himself over me. Skylar was a lone hero for years before joining a team, I don't think she knows how to operate under someone else and Oliver…" Chase pulled in a breath, trying to figure out to phrase himself so Mr. Davenport didn't make the trip when Tasha could have the baby any day now.

"What about Oliver?"

"Oliver and I got into a bit of a fight," Oliver was mad at him, not the other way around, "but we're working through it," they were not working through it, Oliver was only getting more upset with him as the days went on, "and we're learning how to trust each other again, that's all," Oliver ignored every single order unless it was A, from Skylar or B, common sense.

"Any updates on the shapeshifters?"

"No, not since they attacked that brownstone."

"Well, stay vigilant," Mr. Davenport assured him, "even if you're not mission leader anymore, you're the team's best chance at getting a hit on these guys before they overwhelm the city."

"I know."

"Good. I'll get that apartment set up for Perry."

"Bye, Mr. Davenport." And Chase hung up, the sting in his arm really starting to get to him as he made his way down to Mission Command.

He had a job to do, and it wasn't to make nice with Oliver when he had done nothing wrong.

It was to find Roman and Riker before they could attack again.

It was weirdly familiar, being around Douglas in a basement, like those brief, peaceful weeks after he had made nice with Mr. Davenport but before the world knew that they were bionic.

And yet, as he typed at the cyber desk, pointedly ignoring the ricochet of pain from his wrist to his hand with every word he typed, he couldn't help but notice the looks Douglas was giving him; if Chase didn't know any better, he'd think it was concern.

"What?"

"Something's different."

"What are you talking about?" Chase raised an eyebrow as Douglas approached slowly, like he was talking to a wild animal and not his own creation, "and why are you being cryptic?"

"You want me to be straight with you?"

"I would prefer that over whatever you're doing right now."

"Bree told me that you're acting weird."

Chase's spine stiffened, if there was anyone who could possibly see past his facade, it would be his older sister, "yes, but Bree has been calling me weird since I was five. I don't think she really gets a say."

But there was something about Douglas' face; the way he crossed his arms, or the way he raised both eyebrow in a "really?" motion, he couldn't be sure.

But he knew he was caught, letting out a sigh of annoyance before shrugging out of his plaid shirt.

"Not a word about this to anyone else."

"Depends on-" Douglas started, but the words died mid-air as Chase showed him the bandage wrapped around his arm, biting back a wince as Douglas gently took his wrist in his hand, his eyes widening, "this would have been a quick fix if you had told me when you got it."

"I thought I had it handled."

"You didn't," Douglas retorted, pulling in a breath, "I can handle this, I'm just going to need some supplies, and maybe a second set of hands."

"Douglas, no," Chase found himself pleading, "don't tell the rest of the-" Chase cut himself off by hissing through his teeth as Douglas started to pull the bandages away, tears welling in his eyes in an instant.

When he tried to blink them away, and saw the look of "I told you so", his stomach flipped and he found himself relenting in an instant, "fine, fine. You really mastered the whole "dad stare" down for someone who didn't start raising a kid until last year."

"Co-parenting's a funny thing," Douglas just shrugged, his hands still on the bandage, "are you okay?"

"It, fuck," Chase tried to breathe, tried to block out all the irritated nerves and the throb of infection as he glanced up at the ceiling, "it hurts."

"That's not what I asked," Douglas sighed before finally letting go and stepping away toward the hyper lift, only stopping to turn back and point, "stay. I'm getting backup."

"It better not be my sister!" Chase warned before he went up, leaving him alone with an aching arm.

He barely had a chance to think, let alone distract himself, before Douglas was back with Kaz in tow, the two of them discussing as they exited.

"I just figured since you were a superhero doctor and I made it through three years of med school, you'd be the best choice for this."

"Yeah, helps that I don't have a debilitating fear of needles either," Kaz added before his eyes finally met Chase's, assurance that had to have come from working in the medical field shining in his dark brown eyes as he clapped his shoulder, "we'll get this patched up quick. Don't worry about it."

"Douglas, are you sure about this?"

"Hey, I've saved your life before, give me a little credit," Kaz retorted as Douglas clicked a couple of buttons on the desk and one of the rock walls lifted, allowing him to go inside, "what happened anyway?"

"That disaster of a mission last week," Chase sighed, resigning himself to whatever was going to happen, "scratched my arm on a busted pipe."

"Dude, that sounds bad. You've had a tetanus shot, right?"

"I would have tetanus by now if I hadn't," Chase deadpanned as Douglas returned, putting the various medical supplies on the table, "This is unnecessary, Douglas. I can patch myself up."

He was met with an exasperated glare as Douglas snapped on a pair of gloves, "you patching yourself up is how we got into this mess. Sit down."

Chase complied, the extension of his wrist automatic with the force of Douglas' tone as his stomach flipped in what he could only describe as the bubbling, anxious feeling that always simmered inside of him.

But to match Douglas' brash nature was Kaz, with gentle hands and a soft determination set in his features that helped to settle his brain just a little, "you ready?"

"I guess." Chase admitted, his palm undeniably shaking as Kaz's hands found the edges of the half-wrapped bandages.

…

As soon as Chase was taken care of properly, and Douglas sent him up to his capsule to rest with Kaz holding onto his good arm to help him upstairs, he found himself sinking into the chair next to the cyber desk, running a hand up through the spikes of his hair.

He had never really viewed his creations as anything more than that, even as he held the small babies while training the older kids on how to properly use their bionics.

In fact, it wasn't until that day Marcus had lured them into the house, and he saw his creations were now fully fledged, opinionated teenagers that it started to click, that they were his kids that his brother stole from him and not just three pieces of priceless technology.

And after finally seeing the good in the world, and finally accepting that Adam, Bree and Chase would never see him as their dad, only for Daniel to come back into his life to finally give him a chance at the whole "parenting" thing, his attachment to the teenagers only grew.

Especially to Chase, the child who was raised as the youngest, whose older siblings always outshined him, who reminded Douglas so much of himself that it was borderline painful when he referred to Donald as his father.

If he could go back with the knowledge he had now, he would do everything possible to raise the four of them together as his own, he knew he would.

But he also knew that if he could go back with the knowledge he had now, he probably would have taken a step back and listened to his brother, not even taking the steps to create Adam in the first place.

And without Adam, there could never be Bree, Chase and Daniel.

Being as smart as he was, though, he refused to ruminate on those thoughts for long, and did what he did every time they came back into his head.

Accept that there was no going back on the years he spent being evil, and going on with the day like nothing was bothering him.

It was easier that way.

So he made his way upstairs, going to find himself a water bottle only to feel his heart try and jump when he saw Chase sitting at the counter and Kaz leaning on it from the other side.

"Hey!" He shouted, getting both of the teens attention as he pointed a finger to Chase, "I told you to stay in your capsule for at least an hour to jump-start the healing on that wrist."

"And I wanted some water." Chase sassed back, a smirk briefly crossing Kaz's face at the remark.

"Well, your attitude is back," Douglas retorted, striding into the kitchen to grab a water bottle for himself out of the fridge before turning to the fire-powered superhero, "mind giving Chase and I a sec?"

"All yours." Kaz shrugged, gently clapping Chase on the shoulder on his way past before exiting onto the balcony.

"You really do need to spend some time in your capsule, for the regenerative capabilities," Douglas said once Kaz was out of hearing range, "and while I'm not going to tell Donnie about your wrist, you probably should."

"I know," Chase sighed, the glass of water in his loose grip, "I just called him this morning though."

"So I should let it slip to Bree?"

"That is not what I meant."

"I'm messing with you," Douglas smirked briefly before he let it fall, "but next time something like this happens, just tell me. No need to drag the others into it if we don't have to, but today could have been prevented if you had just told me last week."

He was not going to mention the fact that he had to yell at Kaz to hold Chase down so he would stop twisting under his touch, trying and succeeding in pulling away to the point where Douglas couldn't just clean the infected skin.

"Okay," Chase agreed, his eyes downcast on the liquid in his glass, "I get it."

"Good," Douglas nodded, seeing the hesitation in Chase's eyes that briefly tempted him to prod more but ultimately deciding against it, letting it become Bree's problem, "I have to head out, to restock infirmary supplies. I expect you to be in your capsule by the time I get back."

"I'm not making any promises."

"Of course you're not," he sighed, unable to keep a brief smile from crossing his face as he asked with sarcasm in his teeth, "when did you get so rebellious on us, Chase?"

"Gotta figure out who I am outside of the mission leader title, now that it's dissolved."

"Fair," Douglas shrugged, he couldn't argue with that logic, "but if you dye your hair black and start listening to heavy metal, I'm staging an intervention."

Donald was, for lack of a better word, exhausted; that type of fatigue you could feel in your bones as it weighed you down with every step was currently cycling through him and there was nothing he wanted more than to curl up in his bed with Tasha and sleep off the day that he had experienced.

After coming to the conclusion that the cytanium would be lost, only to nearly lose Chase in the process, coming back to the lab to find that he had only made it out thanks to his brother, having to get the resources together to make sure that the block of ice that Douglas was encased in didn't melt only to find out that Leo had frozen both Janelle and Tasha and ending everything with rescheduling his leg wax…it had been a very long day.

He was so ready to go to sleep, to start the next day, to move on from all of this. After patting his now clean face with a washcloth, he asked Eddy as he slathered his skin in moisturizer, "any movement in the house?"

"Well, there's two teenagers snoring in the lab, someone getting ready to freeze more people in Leo's bedroom, and a grizzly bear in your bed."

That accounted for nearly everyone…"Eddy, you're missing someone."

"Oh, there's movement in the kitchen. I wouldn't worry about it, probably Tasha eating more of that salmon."

"Eddy!" Donald chided before pulling in a long breath, leaving the master bathroom and starting to make his way downstairs, walking quietly past a now sleeping Tasha who was curled under a heated blanket.

And when he came down the stairs and saw Chase sitting on one of the bar stools, still in his mission suit with the snow pants covering his legs, he just knew that he wasn't going to bed anytime soon.

"Chase?" He asked, unsurprised to see his son turn slowly, a raised eyebrow instead of a verbal inquiry greeting him; it was nearly impossible to sneak up on Chase due to his bionics, and it was clear that tonight was no different, "what are you still doing up?"

"Just thinking." Chase murmured, his voice quiet as he turned back toward the counter; Donald was unsurprised to see a mug cupped in his palms as he made his way around, steam still rising from whatever was in it.

"Did you make yourself tea?"

"Hot chocolate. We had some in the back of the cabinet."

Donald nodded, hoping maybe he could just send Chase to his capsule, that maybe he could put off the conversation that hovered between them until the morning, "are you still cold?"

"Not really. Your snow suit is really water resistant."

And that was a minor relief, that maybe Chase had managed to stay warm during all of this and the bare minimum had been achieved.

"Douglas also treated the frostbite, so-"

"Frostbite?"

"Well, frostnip," Chase amended, pulling back his sleeve to show his wrist, tiny red bumps climbing up it, "but it'll be fine. I already scanned it, no permanent damage."

And that was a segue, an opening for him to finally talk to Chase about what had happened in the last twenty four hours.

"You know what you did today was incredibly reckless," Donald told him as Chase pulled his sleeve back down, "and that you're incredibly lucky that it worked out the way that it did."

"I know," Chase responded in an instant, "but I needed to prove myself, Mr. Davenport, prove that I'm more than just "flash glue" to Adam and Bree."

"Look, I know that was a poor choice of words," he started, trying to look into Chase's eyes that he had pretty set on the hot chocolate instead, "but you have proven yourself as mission leader. If I didn't think you were ready, you would be sticking back with Leo and I."

"But I don't want to be underestimated by my own siblings, especially not when they're also my teammates."

"Look, I will talk to Adam and Bree tomorrow, okay? See if we can't come up with some conclusion to this," he tried to assure him, getting a sad glance in return, "but I'm not going to wake them up. It is almost midnight and you three have school tomorrow."

Chase nodded, his eyes still focused intently on the mug in his hands; Donald was starting to think that this was all he could do for now, he needed to let Chase process alone and their family would patch this crack in the morning.

He was ready to just pat Chase on the shoulder, tell him to try and get some sleep and head to bed, when he heard a wheeze, an unmistakable one.

He had dealt with his own wheezing of that same volume, when they had been captured by Douglas and Marcus and he had cracked one of his ribs; but Douglas wouldn't, right? He couldn't have. He had to have been hearing things due to just how tired-

There was another one, and he couldn't stop himself from rounding the counter, resting a hand on Chase's shoulder, and pleading with him to answer him honestly when he asked around the acid taste in his mouth, "what did he do to you?"

"What?"

"Did Douglas hurt you?"

"No, he didn't; did you not hear what I said, he treated my frostbite."

"Then why are you wheezing?" Donald questioned, getting wide, guilty eyes as a result before an answer slipped from Chase's lips.

"I didn't trust Douglas to wrap my ribs."

And that forced Donald to soften, to look back on the loud scream as his son had been buried under pounds of hard snow and ice before bringing himself back to the present.

"Okay," Donald said, gently squeezing Chase's shoulder, "okay, why don't you sit on the couch, and I'll wrap your ribs."

Chase just nodded, standing slowly with a brief wince passing over his face that would have been impossible to miss.

It did nothing to help relieve the guilt tearing its way through Donald as he went into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit from the cabinet.

When Tasha had put a first aid kit in every bathroom in the house, Donald had been convinced she had been exaggerating; right now, he was nothing short of relieved.

He came back to the living room, sitting opposite of Chase, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was pointedly directing his attention anywhere else.

"Chase," he started, waiting for hazel eyes to finally pull away from where they were fixated on the floor, "shirt off."

Chase wordlessly complied, the vest of his mission suit falling to the floor in a crumpled pile before he tugged off the dark gray undershirt, wincing as he maneuvered his arms so he could tug it off and drop it into the pile.

And when Donald was met with the blue, purple and green bruising, the guilt that had crept in quietly before had returned full force in an instant.

"Mr. Davenport?"

"Sorry, sorry," Donald apologized, under his breath but for what he wasn't even sure, before raising his voice, "how much does this hurt? On a pain scale?"

"Right now? It's around a four."

"And when you move?"

"A seven."

Donald nodded, pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth as he used one hand to wrap around Chase's chest and the other to hold against the boy's back to keep his spine straight.

There was no excuse for this; he had allowed his siblings to make him feel inferior, he had done nothing to build him back up like he had told him to do for his older brother just a couple months prior, and he had listened while grasping at straws as the impact, over his invention, nearly crushed Chase to death.

It was the first time in a very long time that he was thankful for his brother, for saving his son's life even if it was an excuse for him to try and fail to get Chase on his side.

But god, had it been believable; when his brother gripped Chase around the shoulder, vowing to give him more abilities and the two of them working together like he was the same as Marcus had been, Donald had felt the failure in his chest as it tried to crush him.

"Mr. Davenport?"

"Yeah?" He looked up, taping down the last of the bandages so they were secure.

"Am I like him? Douglas?"

Donald stilled, his hands falling to his side as he looked into hazel eyes, eyes that were just a few shades darker than his brother's green ones.

"Why do you ask?"

"He said something after he rescued me, about us having similarities and I just…" for a moment, Chase averted his eyes to his hands, pulling in a deep breath before looking back up, "I guess I just wanted to know if he was the only one who thought that way."

Donald knew what Chase wanted to ask, he had been raising him since was a toddler; it wasn't if he could also see similarities like being the youngest but rather, if Donald thought that Chase would become like Douglas.

He couldn't lie to himself, when he saw Chase standing side by side with Douglas, he hadn't been able to shake it since, that he almost lost his son to the man who wanted to send him off to the highest bidder.

But when he was with Chase, who got giddy about atomic stabilizers and was really, really close to his siblings no matter what squabbles or pranks tried to get between them, he knew that he had done his best to do a good job with raising all three of them.

And more importantly, he had done his best to raise them with the best morals and the ability to make their own decisions.

"You two have some similarities. You're both the youngest, you're both very smart, and you two can be quick to anger."

"Oh."

"But," Donald added, "You're also incredibly calculated, you have a very strong moral compass, and you are very, very loyal to your family," he paused, letting his hand rest gently on Chase's bare shoulder, "you were the one who insisted that even if Douglas created you that I was still your father. That goes two ways, Chase."

For the first time since he had passed him the cytanium in the lab, a smile spread across Chase's face but this one wasn't smug and full of it, this one was soft and genuine and hammered home the reminder that Chase was still fifteen, no matter how much he puffed out his chest and hid behind the facade of his "mission leader" title.

"And as your father," Donald added, "it's time for you to try and get some sleep. It's been a very long day."

Chase nodded, the smile morphing into a wince when he stood from the couch, his hand resting against his bandaged chest as he grabbed his shirt.

But before he could head towards the elevator, Donald found himself adding, "Chase?" Getting his son to turn around, an eyebrow raised in questioning, "do you need a hug?"