JETSTREAM

He settles comfortably against Arya, even though it’d only been a little over twenty-four hours since the last time they shared a bed together, it somehow felt like weeks. Resting his head on his shoulder, he lets his eyelids drift close for a moment, the urge to sleep again suddenly tugging at him, but the soft kiss Arya brushes against his knuckles draws him back into the land of the living. 

And a pang of guilt hits him at Arya’s own admission, because he was the last one here that needed to apologize about not protecting the other. That had been his job, after all, not Arya’s, and he failed it twice already between Clint’s and then Vic’s unwanted entrance into his apartment. But that felt like ancient history now, after everything that had happened that night and that morning even. 

“You know I’m a big tough Guardian, right?” He huffs a laugh, before turning his head to plant a kiss against his shoulder. “And I walked into that Tower yesterday knowing that there were still numerous unknowns about all of this. It’s not your fault what happened, it’s not even Hyde’s fault- even though I wish his aim sucked a little more. I made the choice to go in, and I’m sure I’ll have to make another choice sometime down the road that puts me in danger again. But that’ll be my choice.” 

“Believe it or not, I didn’t just choose this gig for the pension and the chance of getting my own action figure,” he adds with a weak smile, before glancing back up to him, taking his hand in his as he does. “I do this despite the risks involved, because I want to help people. And even though I don’t see myself staying a Guardian for much longer, there’ll still be risks in whatever I do- but none of that will be your fault, or your burden to take on.” 

The weight of Darren next to him is a comforting thing –– it has been, every single time, every moment that they’ve been allowed to settle next to each other. It’s an addictive kind of warmth, a simple contact that makes Arya feel fervent in his devotion, hungry for more. He wants every second with Darren, as many as he can get, for as long as Darren will let him have it. And he can tell that the contact is helping Darren drift into comfort too, can tell that he’s ready to fall asleep. But the words came out anyway, the admission of his own insecurity, his own guilt about everything that happened in the Tower. 

He really does wish he had been faster. He wishes he had known more, done more research. He wishes he had psychic powers so he could have prepared everyone for every eventuality, so that no one would have gotten hurt, and no one would have had to live through any of the trauma that he faced. Part of him almost feels bad for bringing it up at all, when Darren has been through so much, when Darren must be mentally and physically exhausted by everything. 

But Darren, wonderful Darren, beautiful Darren... He laughs, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard. Like fireworks in his chest. It’s just a small huff of a thing, but combined with the kiss her presses against Arya’s shoulders, it’s enough to set him on fire with that still growing devotion he always feels. 

“My big tough Guardian.” He says, voice whisper quiet. Darren is in real danger, he thinks, of being Arya’s hero. He’s comforted by the words, as Darren says them. The fact that he doesn’t blame anyone, even Hyde, means a lot to Jetstream. He nods his head, as he listens, a delicate movement. He squeezes Darren’s hand in turn, glad for the contact, glad for something to hold on to. “Okay. I know. I know we’ll always be kind of in danger. We’re the risk taking types, after all.” He agrees, because its important to acknowledge the words. He shifts so that Darren can rest more surely against him, too. “And I support you taking all the risks that you feel like you need to. But I’m gonna keep worrying about you. Just a little. It’s not a burden.” 

He manages to laugh, despite everything, at Jet’s words, and there isn’t a shadow of a doubt in his mind that every word of it is true, that Jet would portal into his apartment and make him play battleship, or something else stupid, and a little bit wonderful. He’s really not sure what he did, in life, to deserve Jet’s friendship, his love, his attention. He thinks he’s spend the whole time half a step away from fucking it all up, thinks that if Jet were anyone else in the world, any less forgiving, he would have given up on Jase a long time ago. Jet had been the first person to refuse to go, when Jase’s worst instincts kicked in and tried to push him away. 

He’s pretty sure this isn’t the first time Jet’s saved his life. He’s pretty sure, in some way, Jet may never stop saving his life. He’s pretty sure that, for as long as he has a life, he’ll owe the majority of it to Jet. And it’s okay, he thinks, because if he’s going to spend his life indebted to someone, he’s glad it’s Jet. Because as much as he knows Jet is always afraid of people leaving him, he doesn’t know what he would do, if Jet ran away again.

     “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replies, voice slow but a little less slurred now, as Jet slowly works the heat back into his body. 

He’s still shivering pretty fiercely, and the pull of exhaustion is still tugging at him. But he keeps his eyes open, does his best to keep focused. Tries to think of something to talk about, so that Jet doesn’t have to take the entire burden of keeping him awake. And he should get out of the rest of his wet costume, at some point. They should really get out of here. But right now, he doesn’t think he could walk more than ten steps if he tried, and Jet’s got to be exhausted from keeping up multiple portals at once. So instead of suggesting it, he just leans closer, rests his head against Jet’s. 

     “You think I should get a costume that prevents this from happening?” he says, because it’s the first thing he can drag to mind to say, through the haze. “Like… one of those insulated surfer suits or something. Would that be dumb?” 

If there’s one thing that Arya will always be weak for, it’s the sound of Jase’s laughter. The first time he heard it it almost knocked him off his feet. He thought it was beautiful. It used to make his stomach wiggle, it used to make him feel bubbly and volatile and like he would do anything to rip it out of Jase over and over again. It’s a familiar sound now, and one he cherishes. It doesn’t quite light him on fire anymore, but it still has an affect, he’ll still never have enough of that sound. He’s glad that Jase laughs, now, because it has to be a good sign, it has to mean something for the both of them. It means he isn’t going to fade away, that he isn’t going to abandon Arya here on his own. 

He wouldn’t be able to survive if Jase left him on his own. Jase was his rock now. His best friend. It was strange, and he was sure that some of the other members of the Collective wouldn’t understand it. But Jase was good, and true, and loyal to him. Jase had been steadfast, even when being steadfast had clearly been terrifying. Jase allowed him to keep a hold on him, let Arya be his friend when he couldn’t be anything else. And Arya is so grateful for that, he could cry about it, he could kiss every inch of Jase’s face. He’d kill to keep a friend as good as this. So Jase isn’t allowed to ditch him, isn’t allowed to die in some stupid way, ice cold and frozen by his own power, by his own heart. 

He holds Jase tighter for a moment, holds his shivering body. He won’t stop holding the man until Nightingale is free to look at him, until it feels safe to move. Arya himself is half dizzy, from the absent effort of keeping the last portal open. He’ll crash when he can finally close it, but for now he’s fighting for every inch, and fighting for Jase too. 

“I don’t think anything would be dumb, if it means you’d be safer.” He says, a little fierce. “We’ll go get one. And then we’ll make Dr Green fix it up for you. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll make Mind Master bully their weapons chick into doing it for you.” 

location: dulce’s place, week following attack 

status: closed to @jetxstreamx​

It’d been a week since he first found himself living under a new kind of protection. After spending nearly the last year in one kind of a hideout or another, he’d oddly gotten used to being holed up somewhere, with little much to do but try to keep himself busy and not think too much on what all was going on in the outside world. He still felt like a caged animal, but this time around the walls around him didn’t feel quite as oppressive and cold. He could suddenly be able to see his loved ones again, which certainly helped, even though his hands were still bound in how much he could help them. But it was better than nothing, he reminds himself, especially after how close he got to not being able to see any of them at all. 

That afternoon, he’s chosen to occupy his time outside, after spotting Dr. Green pull into the driveway, likely there to have another session with Judgement’s former bodyguard. He’s learned out of experience now, that unless he wanted to get pulled into helping her out with whatever kind of test she needed to run, that it was best to make his presence sparse when she came calling. Overload was a better assistant anyway, he figured. 

After making his second loop around the property, he’s just about to sneak inside to see if the coast was clear, before he sees the familiar purple hues of one of Jet’s portals open up, just feet away from the home’s front door. He’d only seen Jet sparingly since the Tower attack, and even though they patched up the largest hole in their friendship, back during their run in at the abandoned amusement park, the unshakeable bond the two once had still was on unsteady ground. 

“You running another ferrying service today, or is it just you this time?” He asks, once he spots the villain’s face, only looking back at his portal briefly to see if someone else was about to pop out next. 

Arya hasn’t exactly been avoiding Dulce et Decorum’s place. He’s been busy. He has people to see, and Darren to take care of. And that feels like a full time job. A full time job that he’s in love with, more or less. A scary thought, but one that makes him smile. Because every day with Darren makes him feel  like he’s in deeper and deeper water, like he can’t throw all of this away. They’d jumped in the deep end, but Arya was pretty sure it was worth it, for someone as amazing as Darren was, someone as warm and as loving and as strong. But he also knows he could be doing more, he could be there, helping the people that had been displaced by everything that happened. He could be talking to Overload more, cherishing the time he gets to have back with her. 

And he should be talking to Velocity. 

That’s an idea that makes a knot grow in his stomach, every time he thinks about it. Because he loves Velocity more than he loves most people in his life. V has been his family since he was sixteen, has been the biggest and steadiest point of contact in his world. V was his rock, once upon a time. And it still feels like something was thrown off his axis, thrown off his gravity, because V isn’t around anymore. Because he had run away and left Arya behind. Because it seemed like he had talked to everyone except for Arya about what was going on. Because he had run away, the last time they saw each other. It stung. It made him feel… abandoned. And that was a feeling that was hard for him to shake.

But he also couldn’t shake the love. The devotion that grew in his chest years ago, the one he couldn’t weed out. Once Arya loved someone, it was impossible to change his mind about it. And he knew that the likelihood was that he was overreacting. He had never been particularly rational. Maybe he had understood something the wrong way. Maybe he had done something to give Velocity a reason to leave him behind, all those long long months ago.

They worked through some of it, the last time he saw V. But he feels like there’s so much confusion still in his chest. He also knows he’s the one who has to reach out and try here, with V needing to stay safe and tucked away in Dulce’s safehouse. So he portals over, and is half-surprised when V is already there to talk to him on the other side, a strange coincidence. He offers a half smile, pushing any of the sadness that wants to creep in away, and raising a hand to close the portal with a flourish. “Just me, today.” 

It doesn’t really surprise her, what Jetstream says next, that Darren had made the decision to take on that burden himself when it came to the eventual decision that would be made. It does surprise her that the decision stems from a relationship, considering how god awful he used to be at them, but it seems like he’s being more mindful this time, whether it be because he’d finally learned his lesson, or because Jetstream has made him want to change. 

Her face does fall though, when he mentions what her role to play in all of this was. She knew to a certain extent that her “death” was involved in getting Darren to join the Guardians, but it still stings to think that he walked into that lion’s den willingly, without realizing it was those very lions that sought to see her dead. 

“When I tell him what happened to me, and who was responsible for that, his loyalties will change- that I’m sure of.” She lets out a sigh, as she looks back over to Darren, still deep in his slumber. “But I can just as easily see him stay, to keep a closer eye on Clint, as I can see him leave to get the hell away from him.” 

     a week-ish after the Tower attack, late night, the kitchen, @jetxstreamx​

He’s spent the past week holed up in his lab, mostly, kind of obsessively working on the serum, trying to make himself feel a little better about the possibility that he won’t wake up halfway through whatever next job Hyde gets sent out on is and re-traumatize himself all over again. He’s been avoiding taking missions, or anything that will put Hyde back out in the field, or, honestly, anything that will make him have to succumb to the serum again in an uncontrolled environment, and he’s sure there will be hell to pay for it when he does, but at least Zenith hasn’t come calling again to demand he release Hyde like he’s committing some kind of crime against humanity by taking things slow. 

It means the only people he’s really seen are Mimic and Medusa, who has brought him food a few times to make sure that he eats, which he definitely wouldn’t be doing otherwise. And Medusa must have other things to take care of today, better things to occupy her time with than feeding her wayward best friend, because by the time his stomach begins to protest loudly enough that he can’t ignore it anymore, he looks at the clock and realizes that it’s almost midnight. 

So he heads up to the kitchen to grab a plate of whatever’s around an easy—maybe a muffin or two, maybe a sandwich. And is pleasantly surprised when the kitchen isn’t empty, not because he particularly wants to see other people, but because the person in it is someone has hasn’t actually seen in months. Because Hyde had been the one at the Tower, and because Daydreamer had rushed Sebastian out of there before half of the other teams had made it back to the meet up point safely. And because, the second Jetstream moved out of the Manor, his almost daily trips to keep Sebastian company in the lab had stopped rather abruptly, and had never started up again. 

     “And here I was thinking you’d died,” he jokes, pulling Jetstream into a hug for a second before stepping back so he can get a good look at him—no worse for wear, apparently, no terrible Tower-sustained injuries that Sebastian can see anywhere visible. “Or worse, that I’d somehow pissed you off and you decided to never forgive me. It’s been months, man, where have you been?”

.

There’s something that Jet has always loved about the Manor at night, the way it falls into an easy kind of quiet. The dark corners and the dim lighting that makes the place feel actually cozy. He’s learned to appreciate it more and more, given the absence that he’s maintained over the last few months. He never realised he would miss it so much, but that had been foolish of him. He should have known. Because it was his first real home, the longest he had ever been allowed to stay in one place. He had grown up here, become a man here, it had shaped him in ways that he could never escape. And it was still full of the people that he loved, the people that he adored. 

He couldn’t help but linger, tonight. Everyone was cozied up with their people, he thought. Danny and Cat had been dozing on a couch together, the last time that he saw them, and he didn’t have the heart to bother anyone. But the atmosphere was enough for him, no matter how much tension might be lingering under the surface, no matter how often he had to stop and wonder about White and the others, the people who he could never trust again no matter how hard he tried. Banshee had only cemented that instinct in him, confirming the gut feeling that had driven him away from the manor in the first place. e had given him nothing but more reasons to trust his gut instinct, the thing that had sent him running away from the Manor in the first place. That uncomfortable feeling, that half certainty that she wasn’t really looking out for their best interests. 

The kitchen has been a safe haven for him for what feels like forever. Jay always felt like what Jet imagined an older brother might. And he’s made cookies tonight, left them under Jet’s care, still warm and gooey and comforting. 

Even more comforting is the sound of Sebastian’s voice, greeting him again. And god, it’s been so long. So long that he aches for it. Sebastian has always been a good friend, always made the time for him, and never treated him like he was an annoyance. He throws himself into the hug that Sebastian offers him, squeezes him tightly, cherishes the feelings of being in his arms for a moment. He grins up at Sebastian’s face, checking him over in turn once they pull away from each other. “Well, I was very offended by the way you handled that bunsen burner the last time I was in your lab.” 

It feels nice, after Jet had been gone for so many months, disappeared of the face of the fucking planet, and then shown up only as the job of planning an entire ginormous mission was dumped unceremoniously in her lap because hers was the only cell phone number V had memorized, to just sit and talk to him, with nothing more stressful at hand than how to persuade a mostly harmless internet-famous teenager that she doesn’t know everything there is to know about being a super villain yet. It feels so normal, to watch him roll his eyes at her and defend himself from her teasing, so normal to nudge his thigh with the toe of her boot where her feet are propped up on the booth next to him.

     “Oh come on,” she laughs, “I’m sure there are plenty of twinks out there who idolize you. But cool, competent young women need a badass bitch to look up to, and no offense, but you do not fit that niche. And, as much as I love her, Medusa is definitely too old for a bunch of kids who don’t even know who Gerard Way is.” 

And she’s grateful, too, for his genuine suggestion. It makes a ton more sense than anything she would have come up with on her own—her experience as a teenager was way different to his, or to Replica’s, or to the new Miss Mayhem’s, so as much as either one of them might look up to the person she is now, they probably both would have bullied the shit out of her when she was their age. 

     “Alright, that sounds like a plan then. Set up a tag team crime for the two of them, let Miss Mayhem work her magic, and hope for the best. We can call it a… collab or something, if that makes it sound cooler. I honestly don’t know.” 

Jet can’t help the flush of happiness he feels, here with Catalyst. It’s the feeling that always comes along with her companionship. Like warmth, like safety, like one of the few people he’s pretty sure will never walk away from him. One of the few people who will never really let him walk away either. He’s almost certain that Catalyst would come find him, if he ditched her, even if it was only to yell at him and kick his ass. But he would never do that to her, because she would probably cry, and then he would cry, and then he’d have to go jump off a building to put them both out of their misery. 

He wiggles back in the booth a little, mimics her by throwing his own legs up on the leather beside her body, makes himself comfortable there. A smile spreads across his face, because he likes the idea of being someones hero, of being looked up to by some of the kids out there, being an inspiration for them. It makes him feel like he actually did something right in his life, like he didn’t fuck it all up completely. Jet lets a small laugh escape his chest. “Damn, don’t let the scary statue lady hear you call her old. I said she had a kind of retro charm once, and I swear she almost turned me to stone.” He shrugs a shoulder, and nods his head in a teasing agreemnt. “But you do have a point I’ll concede that much to you.” 

He shifts, and nods his head. Catalyst is one of the people who nearly always takes his suggestions, who trusts him to come up with a plan. A grin, a soft laugh. “Maybe we should let Mayhem come up with a term for it.” A joke, with a teasing wrinkle of his nose. He shoves his second-last bite of pie into his mouth, before clanking his own fork against hers on the table. “Cheers, to making plans, and all that bullshit. And to teenage supervillians with superiority issues.” 

cw: mention of child abuse 

Jet is at his side, and then he’s gone, and then he’s back again, and he’s either moving too quickly or Jase is continuing to lose seconds every time his eyes drift shut. But he manages to pull himself out of his sleeves and get his costume half-off by the time Jet is back with blankets, by the time Jet is wrapping one around his shoulders. And he’s doing everything he should do, doing everything right, Jase knows, but it’s a lot of water, a lot of ice, and he can’t feel his hands, really, or his feet, or his legs. 

He leans in close, pressing himself towards the warmth of Jet’s body heat, turning his face to bury it in Jet’s shoulder. He feels so tired; he’d like to lean on Jet and go to sleep, close his eyes and let himself slip away for a while. But he knows that’s the hypothermia talking, that if he lets himself he might not wake up again. And the memory washes over him unbidden—the first time he’d given himself hypothermia, with his powers, in an Olympic sized swimming pool his dad had taken him to test just how far his powers could extend, how much he could freeze while treading water in the middle. His dad’s disapproving face, when he hauled himself back up over the edge and onto dry ground, ice crystals coating his skin. 

     “Jet,” he says, trying to force his eyes open. And Jet is there, right there, that worried little look on his face. And Jase’s chest aches, with it, with knowing just how far Jet had pushed himself just to make sure Jase was safe, to make sure he didn’t get himself killed playing hero. “Keep me awake. You gotta keep me awake.”

His voice sounds different, coming out, than it does in his head. Shaking, obviously, but also small, and vulnerable. Scared. It would be stupid to die here. To put Jet through all of that only to fuck up and die after they’ve made it to safety. It’d be a fucking waste, to die here of all places, he thinks. 

Holding Jase Courtney has always felt like the easiest thing in the world. The first time Arya had been allowed to wrap his arms around the other man was akin to a religious experience, to be allowed so close to someone so cold, someone who fought tooth and nail against being loved, like the slightest bit of vulnerability would kill him. And once upon a time, maybe it would have. But Arya had always known he would rather die himself than hurt Jase, and would always try his best to make sure the man was okay. He wasn’t always good at it, they didn’t always blend together well. But they cared about each other. They were something vital, something so important it hurt, something he could never bring himself to let go of. Arya wanted to be his best friend forever, wanted to make sure Jase would never let him go.

So now, it’s easy to pull Jase close, to hold his cold body and try and get the warmth back into him. Jase moves into him as well, like it’s second nature. He leans against Arya like he’s something sturdy, something to hold on to, and buries his face against Arya’s shoulder. Arya squeezes him a little tighter, shudders out a breath, chest full of that old unnamable emotion.

Jase tells him what the most important thing to do was, and Arya is stupidly grateful for that. Because he doesn’t know how to deal with this, doesn’t know exactly what Jase needs. “I can do that,” He says, still a little breathless with it all. He holds Jase closer, rests his cheek against the top of Jase’s head for a moment. “I’m good at that, right? Remember, I used to annoy you all the time, bothering you and making you stay up with me. I’m gonna do that for the rest of your life, you know. No matter what else happens. I’m gonna portal into your apartment when I can’t sleep and make you play battleship with me.” 

He really would, he thinks. Even when it made him feel like a burden. Because he couldn’t bare the idea of Jase not being there for him, couldn’t stand the idea that they wouldn’t accept each other no  matter what the time of night was. He’s looking around, even as he talks, even as he rubs warmth back into Jase’s arms. Looking to try and spot Nightingale, to flag them down and see if they could help Jase through this. He doesn’t spot the man, so he shifts, puts a hand on Jase’s face so he can look into Jase's eyes. “I’m gonna be the worst, J. But you’re gonna deal with it, cause we’re best friends, right?” 

Even though Arya had seemed to get out of his own mission in the Tower relatively unscathed, he’s still rushed with a feeling of relief once he confirms it. Catalyst had done well, especially given the mammoth of a task she was given. Arya had always talked her up, whenever her name did fall into conversation before, and at first he thought it was just his bias, considering Catalyst was far from the much more well known types such as Dulce et Decorum or The Shadow Man. But if tonight had showed anything, it was that Catalyst was well up for the challenge of leading the Collective where White so far had fallen short. 

“I’m glad you were able to help him,” he says genuinely, extending his free hand over to Arya’s fingers and giving them a light squeeze. The contact isn’t quite enough though, not after everything the two of them had been through that night, and so he soon tugs on his hand, motioning him to sit down on the bed near him. 

“I’m sorry…”, he adds quietly after a moment. The apology is intended to be for getting injured but it feels heavier as the words slip across his tongue. He feels sorry for so much more, not only for putting Arya in the position of being his short-term caretaker, but also dragging him into everything else that he feels like he’s pulled him into these last few months. 

.

The relief that he can see in Darren’s eyes is a gratifying thing, making something soft twist in his gut. Because Darren had worried about him, even a little bit. It felt good, to know that Darren genuinely wanted to know that he was okay. He lets out a soft sigh, when Darren reaches out, so damn grateful for the contact that it almost hurts. He wants to be closer to Darren, wants to crawl under his skin and stay there forever, he wants to feel so connected that Darren can never get rid of him. But any touch that he’s allowed to have is enough, for now.

He’s thinking that, even as Darren is tugging him closer. A slight pull on his hand. And Arya follows it, because it’s impossible not to, it’s impossible to refuse. He sits as close as he can, achingly careful, not wanting to accidentally hurt Darren by getting too close or disturbing him. If he hurt Darren, it would kill him. Not just physically, either. He would do anything, he thought, to make sure that Darren was happy, that he was safe and protected from the intense, scary world that they had found themselves in. And it was a comfort, distant in his mind, that Darren wanted him to be happy as well.

“Apology not accepted,” He says, but it’s gentle, it sounds like he’s aching inside. He pulls Darren’s hand up, presses a kiss to the knuckles, holds it there. “No, I mean. I’m sorry too. I feel like --” 

Unsurprisingly, Jet is on board with the whole helping out thing. Which, she knew he would be. Jet’s never—well, almost never—let her down before, even if the past few months have been sort of rocky, what with him disappearing off the face of the planet, totally ghosting here, barely even responding to her texts.  And she knows, now, that that wasn’t personal. But it still means more than she realized it would that he’s back around, now, that she doesn’t have to feel abandoned by the one person she was pretty sure had worse abandonment issues than she does. 

     “Aww, I’m Miss Mayhem’s favorite too?” she replies, beaming a little bit for a second before getting back on track. She doesn’t need the approval of a bunch of teenagers to feel good about herself, but it feels better than she thought to hear it twice in a week. She wonders for a second where she’d rank, in a Collective popularity contest, if she’d beat V, if she’d beat Daydreamer. She’d definitely beat Jet, no offense to him, because portals are cool but explosions are way flashier. 

And then she sets that aside, makes herself focus again, because she’s not here to get an ego boost from whether or not various super-powered teens think she’s cooler than everyone else or not. She’s here to help one of these super-powered teens, to do something that matters, and Jet’s right that it’s going to be tough, and that him telling Replica how cool the Terrors are will probably only set back their progress. 

     “That’s actually not a bad idea, though. Introduce her to some of the actual Terrors, so she can judge based on them instead of on the vague reputation of the team. It might crash and burn, but it’s better than any of the ideas I’ve had.” 

Jet takes a moment to playfully roll his eyes, because of course Catalyst loves that. Miss Mayhem said that Cat was her hero, and apparently Replica felt the same way. And Jet couldn’t blame them, when it came down to it. Catalyst was probably the coolest person that he knew. She was sharp, and smart, and so loyal that it must kill her. She was wonderful. He loved her, with a fierce devotion. If she ever started to hate him it really would break his heart, probably more than losing anyone else. Because she was the one person he could count on to always want him around. Both of them were so afraid of losing people, but it meant that they held on tighter. And when those instincts met, it bred the kind of devotion that was rare in other people. Catalyst should be adored by the entire world, as far as Jet was concerned. She deserved love, praise, and adoration from everyone that she met. 

But as one of her best friends, it was also his job to roll his eyes at her. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the coolest.” He points a finger at her. “I’m never letting you meet Feline though. I need at least one fanboy in my corner. I can’t let him realise that I'm a C-lister at best.” 

He doesn’t really mean it, but he does kind of like that someone loves him, just the idea of him. He loves the idea of the Terrors as a whole, throughout their history, and by default he loves the people who are leading the group now. He would do anything for them, for those kids who were fighting to make their way in the world, fighting to make a name for themselves. He had made it clear, the last time he saw them, that they could always come to him if they needed help. The Collective might not officially be collaborating with the Terrors, but Jetstream could do whatever he wanted, as far as he was concerned. And he would protect them if they needed it. Fight for them if they ask him to. Most of them would be in the collective someday, anyway. He was protecting their futures. And Feline was probably one of the few who really would make that call, who would genuinely ask Jetstream for help if the chance came up.

All of this suddenly felt a little less overwhelming, now that she realized she at least had one other person on her side when it came to all of this. Darren getting out of this healthy and safe would have been a lot weighing on her as is, but having to both heal the wounds her “death” caused, as well as help him as his physical ones healed, had seemed daunting. 

“I’ll cut back on the missions I’m taking up,” she responds, as she jumps to figuring out some kind of a plan for the two of them, since that sounded easier. “Since you’re living there, I can pick up on some days, and give you a couple evenings every week.” 

Glancing back down to Darren, something soft and aching blooms in her chest as she watches his eyes dance beneath his lids. She wonders briefly, if he could sense her presence there or not. Once upon a time, the neural link between the two of them was strong. Once Darren had gotten his powers, a good deal of their conversations had happened privately within the safe corners of each other’s minds, rather than out in the open. You better get through this, asshole, she thinks, just in case he could hear her. 

“He’s going to have a decision to make- when he’s over this hump,” she says eyes still looking down at Darren, but talking to the villain her own mind has supplied her with the name of Jetstream. “When I had joined the Guardians, I did it for him. I thought he’d join with me, and it’d finally be a chance to get him away from our dad. But he didn’t, and in the end I was glad he didn’t when I realized what it was really like.” 

She lets out a small sigh before she looks back over to Jetstream, curious what he made of it all. “Part of me thinks he’ll leave, once he hears the truth. But I also see him trying to stay and fix the place. He could never pass up the chance to try to fix something himself, when given the opportunity.” 

Jetstream nods his head, along with the words that leave her mouth. The delicate way she plans this out, the way they’ll take care of Darren, because there isn’t any question that they will. Jetstream has never been able to walk away from someone that he cared about, especially not when they were sick and wounded. It was probably a good way to repay Darren, even, for all of the things he had done for Jet over the last few months. Offering him a place to stay, protecting him from the people who wanted to hurt him, caring about him so much more intensely than Jetstream probably deserved. 

His mind sticks, on the idea of Darren making that decision. That was a topic that had come up, in the vaguest sense, over the last few weeks. Being forced to make a choice one way or another, people finding out about them and taking issue with it. After talking to Banshee, that worry had been compounded –– the threat that White would find out and cast him out for real, that everyone would turn against him. Darren had assured him it would never happen, that no one would ever force him to make that choice, that he would take the fall. But now, Jet was pretty sure Darren would make that decision without prompting. It wouldn’t have much to do with him at all, in the face of other, bigger relaities. 

He swallows, as he thinks of it, lets his eyes skate up to look at his face, before he looks back at her. “We talked about it, a little bit. Him being a Guardian, me being a villian. What would happen if things got... if someone had to make a choice.” He shakes his head, and almost feels guilty about it. “He said it wouldn’t have to be me.” 

She’s really not sure how she ended up in the position she’s in, right now, but she’s glad that Jet’s letting her drag him into it fully. It’ll be more fun, and probably easier, with someone else as back up, wrangling the teen super villain Dark Wing had introduced her to, with someone who knew what it was like to be a teen super villain, rather than a nerdy high schooler who dropped out of college to be a superhero until she got cheated on by her superhero girlfriend and threw the most destructive possible temper tantrum about it. 

But Replica says Cat’s her favorite, which shouldn’t mean as much as it does, seeing as it’s coming from someone who wasn’t even born yet when American Idiot came out. 

     “Not a loner, a TikTok star. Jet, she has, like, a little nerd friend producer who does, like, PR for her. She posts videos of herself blowing up toilets and shit. Dark Wing had to go to Vancouver to get her to stop pretending like she was already a Collective member a few weeks back, and they got her to agree on the condition that she get to meet me, so I went and hung out with her for a few hours, and she wants nothing to do with the Terrors. She thinks she’s already got more cred as a villain than any of them.”

She knows that if anyone can help her with this, it’s Jet. Yeah, V had had the star power when he was a Terror that Jet had never quite reached, but Jet’s the one who still talks about the Terrors, Jet’s the one who she knows is invested in them, who was really fucking impacted by his time being a Terror. She has no doubt that Replica could end up in the Collective a few years down the line even without any teen team experience on her villainous resume, but she also thinks that if Replica joins the Collective without learning to be a little bit of a team player first, she’s not gonna enjoy it. And the Terrors are basically The Collective Jr., even if they don’t actually have official support from the Collective. It seems like an obvious fit.

Except for the part where Replica had laughed in her face, when she suggested it, and said, you’re really cool, Cat, but don’t be fucking lame. 

     “It’s a big job. Think you’re up for it?” 

Jetstream leans forward in the booth a little, propping his head up with his hand, as he listens intently to Catalyst. He can feel a familiar spark in his stomach, and he realise its the spark of feeling good about something. Feeling excited at the prospect of being here with a friend, not planning to save every Superhero who usually made him feel like shit, prior to a few months ago. Excited at the prospect that Catalyst wanted his help with something, because thankfully he was still trustworthy, because he was still worth something to his friends in the Collective. 

And excited too, at the prospect of helping a kid that... okay, probably didn’t need it as desperately as he had, when he was a sixteen year old mess. But could use it none-the-less. As far as Jetstream was concenred, every kid needed a group like the Terrors. They were still the first thing that popped into his head, when he thought about family, even if some of them had lost touch, even if things were still so weird and awful with Velocity. Nothing could sully them memories, or the fact that those were some of the best days of his life. They were the people who had taught him to trust, who had given him a chance. He was pretty sure he would be lost in a gutter somewhere if it hadn’t been for the Teen Terrors. 

He arches an eyebrow, as she explains the situation to him. Holy hell. Yeah, he thinks he’s seen Replica online, once or twice. She certainly had good taste if she wanted to meet Catalyst, but Jetstream wasn’t sure exactly how they were supposed to convince her that the Terrors were a good fit for her. Some people just weren’t cut out for a team. 

But Jet and Catalyst were different. They were made for a group. For friends. For a family. The devoted ones who could never really let go, even if it was probably for the best. Jet could have made a clean break and avoided all of the drama of the last few months, but he loved the Collective too much to do that. He knew that the only way he would stop fighting for them was if they kicked him out themselves. 

“Hey, you know I never back down from the impossible.” He says, because it isn’t even really a question. If Catalyst was asking for help, Jetstream would be there with her, trying his best. He could handle a teenager, he was pretty sure of that. 

He can’t help but reach out and touch Arya the moment he’s close enough, making sure to school his features so they don’t reveal the tinge of pain that shoots up his side, as he leans over to press a kiss against his cheek, before grabbing the box from his hand. When he opens it up, he smiles at the assortment of eclairs that are waiting for him to dig into. Grabbing one, he hands the box back to Arya to grab one for himself, before he settles back into the mountain of pillows behind him. 

“I’ll live,” he nods, before taking a bite. “So unfortunately you won’t be able to start collecting checks yet from the Guardian’s Widow Fund.” 

It’s easier to joke for now, on the just how bad this could have been, especially after how heavy he still felt from everything he and Dylan had gotten into. After taking another bite of his eclair, he looks over to Arya again, and squeezes his knee lightly with his free hand in thanks for everything- between him likely staying with Dylan all night, to giving him and Dylan the time they needed before reappearing. 

“How are you holding up?” He asks, genuinely wanting to hear how Arya’s half of the mission went. Given his physical lack of injuries, Darren can only guess it didn’t go nearly as bad as his half. 

“Were you able to get everyone out in your section?” 

It’s a concentrated effort, to keep up the lighthearted and joking mood he himself had put in place. He’d figured, after all, that Darren delt with enough of the intense emotional stuff with Dylan. A reunion of long-lost twin siblings was the kind of stuff you saw in movies, fraught and intense and so much more important than any of what Arya had to offer him. They were lingering in the honeymoon period of a probably ill-advised romance, but it wasn’t the stuff of legend, despite the way Arya felt. It felt massive in his chest, suffocatingly big, but he pushed it away in favor of a tight, yet still warm, smile.

“Drat,” he manages. “There goes my evil plan to mooch off your memory forever.” 

He can see the gratitude in Darren’s eyes, despite everything. Can see that Arya had done the right thing, staying and waiting for him to wake up, giving them the space they needed to sort things out before he came back. So his smile softens even further, and he looks at Darren with warm eyes. He lets Darren ask the question, because he can hear how genuine it is, because he’d be prodding Darren for information if their roles had been reversed here. 

“We did good,” He says, thinking about it. His side of the mission hadn’t been anywhere close to the kind of emotional messes that everyone else had seemingly gone through. “Catalyst did good, mostly, more than me, I mean. She was amazing.” 

     the diner in town, a week and a bit after the Tower attack, afternoon, @jetxstreamx​

She texts Jet sixteen times before the portal finally appears across from her and he steps out, which she’s pretty sure means he was busy with his new boyfriend, but she doesn’t really feel that bad about interrupting them, given said boyfriend is almost certainly supposed to be on bedrest, and after talking with Banshee, she feels like he should probably be careful about the whole boyfriend thing anyway.

Granted, all sixteen of those texts were sent within the span of about eight minutes, so it’s a pretty quick response, even from someone who can make a portal halfway across the world in a split second. He steps out of it, and she pushes the goodwill slice of pie she’d ordered for him across the table so that he’ll sit down across from her, next to where she has her boots propped up on the opposite booth, and then she takes a bite of her own pie, waiting for him to get his bearings for a second before she charges right into it.

      “Slow, for me saying it’s an emergency, but I’ll take it,” she says, through the mouthful of pie, and scrunches up her nose so he knows that she’s joking. 

     “But in all seriousness, I need your help. I was too much of a nerd to be a supervillain before I turned nineteen, so I’m out of my depth here. How do I convince an extremely cool teenager that the Teen Terrors aren’t lame as hell?”

Taking care of Darren isn’t quite a full time job, but it’s still one that takes up a signifigant portion of his life right now. Him and Night Hunter have been trading off, back and forth. Someone is always with him, someone is always there in case he needs something. And Arya is glad that she’s there to help, that he’s not the only one with all the responsibility in this situation. Because he can’t ignore his friends anymore, and now that most of the Tower stuff is out in the open, he feels worse and worse about being a little bit absent. 

He still isn’t quite comfortable with White, is his problem. Still doesn’t feel like the Collective is the safest place to be. But he loves his friends, every single one of them. And if they’re in the Collective, then he’ll never manage to leave.

Catalyst texts him, early in the afternoon. A barrage of one text after another that he doesn’t deign with a responce, since he’s going to be portaling to her location in a few minutes. He just has to get dressed, chug a glass of water, and kiss Darren goodbye. 

And then he’s slipping into a booth opposite Catalyst, smiling down at his pie. He spares a moment to take a bite, hungry, before he arches an eyebrow at her. 

“You desensitised me to emergency texts the last time you and Dark Wing wanted ice cream at midnight.” He says, a little wry. He’s playfully offended at her accusation that he’s been neglecting her.  That had been a fun night, actually. One of the last nights that he really felt comfortable and happy and like things in his life were going right. “We need a codeword or something, for real emergencies.” 

cw: vomit

He can tell, as he watches Jet make his way to Reptilian, open a portal, drag him through, that Jet’s pushing himself too hard. Overexerting himself to make up for what Jase hadn’t been able to do. And he’d probably feel bad about it, except that he’s so busy fucking shivering that he can barely think straight enough to feel anything besides cold. Cold, and tired, and the real telltale sign of hypothermia is setting in, the way he wants to go to sleep, can feel himself getting dangerously drowsy. He blinks, and Jet is dragging Reptilian through a portal. He blinks, and Jet is walking back towards him through the waist-deep water, and he doesn’t know where the time in between those two things meant. He blinks again and Jet is nearly at his side, and then touching his face, his hands warm.

Jase makes himself nod. It’s going to be distinctly unpleasant, getting pulled through a portal when he already feels like shit and doesn’t have the energy to steel himself against the motion sickness, but better throw his guts up on the other side than keep freezing to death.

     “Y—yeah,” he says, his voice coming out slow, a little slurred, through the violent shivering. And he can see the meeting point through the portal, as Jet opens it, so he grips at Jet’s arm with shaking hands and lets Jet pull him through.

A flood of water spills out behind them, on the other side of the portal, in the moment before Jet closes it behind them. And without the water holding up his weight, he ends up on his knees somehow, Jet’s arm slipping from his weak grip as he stumbles to the ground, the distinctive nausea of teleporting setting in almost before he’s fully aware that they’ve made it out the other side. 

But maybe it’s good he’s on his knees, because the first thing he does is double over and throw up onto the concrete floor, wiping his mouth with his shaking hands before scrambling backwards away from it. He finds his back against a wall, leans back against it, and his eyes are drifting shut of their own accord. He tries to tug at the zipper of his suit, weakly, distantly aware that he won’t be able to warm up if he’s still covered in waterlogged spandex and polyester. 

It’s an actual relief, when they hit the other side of a portal. Because Jet can close it, quick, and lessen some of the strain he’s been feeling. The downside is it’s harder, now, to keep the one near Catalyst open. Distance, that’s an issue. But he can conceptualise right where he left it, can see the distant glow on the far end of the meeting point that means it’s right there, exactly where it’s supposed to be. He’s startled out of this line of thought when he feels Jase slipping from his grip, watches as the man falls to his knees. 

And then Jase is throwing up, of course. That makes so much sense. Jet really should have expected that, given the state he had been in when he found him. Of course the portal would be too much, on top of everything else that was going on, on top of the hell his body was going through. 

“Yeah, there it is.” He says, completely absentmindedly, filling the absence of sound, filling the space. It’s a newer instinct for him, but he thinks if he was in Jase’s positiion right now, he would find the sound of someone’s voice comforting. “And here I was, thinking I had lost my touch. No one has thrown up post-travel in like a year.” 

Jet feels like he’s out of his depth, suddenly. Jet feels like he doesn’t quite know what to do. he watches, frozen for a second, while Jase settles back against the wall. He wants to fall to his knees in front of Jase and hold him, wants to nurse him back to health. Jase is stripping himself out of his wet clothes, and Jet finally kicks himself into motion. “I’ll get you a blanket.” He says, nodding his own head. Something dry and warm for Jase to wrap himself in, so he can start to warm up for real, so he can shake off the ice inside of his core and overcome this. 

time / location : general hospital near guardian tower, day after Tower attack, around noon

status: closed to @jetxstreamx​

When he wakes up in the hospital that morning, the early morning sunlight sending a soft haze of light through the curtains of his room, the very first thing he sees is Dylan. She was curled up in a chair by his bed, her features turned into a scowl. He thinks he’s dead at first- because, right? How else could he describe seeing Dylan, after all these years, sleeping next to him right after he took two shots in the chest. 

Sitting up gingerly he tries to get a better grip on his bearings when he realizes the second person in the room- Arya. And that’s when he realizes he’s not dead, because Arya is staring back at him, looking like he barely slept a wink all night. It’s just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask him what in the hell was going on, when suddenly Dylan stirs awake, and she takes precedent once again. 

Before he can fully register what’s going on, Arya is out of the room, and Dylan is practically on top of him, and fuck… he starts sobbing the moment she lands on top of him, even if it hurt like a bitch. She’s sobbing too, which he’s pretty sure is the first time Dylan has ever cried in front of him, but none of that mattered, not when somehow she’s alive and okay. 

The next hour passes with just them catching up with one another, with her letting him know more about the details of the night she “died” and where went after. His head is absolutely swimming with the amount of information that passes between them, but it’s a good kind of overwhelming, considering how long he didn’t have her at all. 

A couple hours later, after Arya had disappeared, quiet as a church mouse, he sees him appear in the doorway of his room again. Dylan had just left only minutes before, and so he’s alone when Arya finds him. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, a warm smile blooming across his tired features that soon spreads into a wide grin when his eyes land on the white box in his hand. “Is that what I think it is?” 

“You know you could get thrown out of here for that kind of contraband.” 

Arya had been quick to clear the space, when Darren started to wake up. Dylan wanted some time alone with her brother, and she desevred it. They deserved alone time, no observers while they aired out whatever they needed to. That wasn’t for Arya to see. If Darren wanted to talk about it later, he would listen. But in the meantime he clears out and gives them the space they need so badly. He leaves the hospital and gets himself some coffee, because god, does he need it. The caffiene helps him feel like a human being again, a little less gross and exhausted, a little more ready to face whatever else the day has in store for them. 

Then, he gets the food. He was sure that Dylan was mostly joking, when she gave him that reason to leave. But when he thinks about it, Darren could probably use something good to eat, something comforting and familiar. And Arya is proud that this tiny burst of information he’s stored away about Darren’s favourite place has come in handly. So he picks up a couple of servings of Darren’s usual order, and heads back when an appropriate amount of time has passed. 

He’s cautious, when he makes his reappearance, not wanting to interrupt anything that might be going on. But Darren is alone in the room. His sister must have just left to do something. So he slips into the room, and into cheering up my injured boyfriend mode.

“Yeah, this is what happens when you start to date a renegade.” He says, and allows himself a small smile. It’s okay to smile, now, because Darren is awake, and happy to see him. And they can talk, finally, after this long mess. There’s no big war on the horizon, no tower that they’re responsible for anymore. Just the two of them in a room, with Darren’s favourite food. “Eh, it’s kind of cute that you think they’d be able to keep me out.” 

He’s achingly careful, when he perches himself down on the edge of Darren’s bed, looking at him with the softest eyes. “So, what’s the verdict? Will you live, or do I need to practice my woeful widower look? Because you have to know that black doesn’t suit me.” 

She can’t help but size up this latest fling of Darren’s, as he walks into the room, trying to gather what she can about the two’s relationship by how he interacts with her brother. If felt strange being so in the dark about Darren’s personal life, when before she was always among the first to learn everything that happened to him. This new one still seems in his puppy love stage, she thinks, as she watches him. She smiles anyway, when he mentions the French bakery by the museum that had been a favorite of the Lilly siblings, given how much it reminded them of their childhood. 

“Look at you, he’s trained you well,” she hums with a small grin, can’t help but already teasing him despite the fact they’d just met seconds before. “You should double his usual order, he’ll be wanting to wolf down what he can once he’s awake.” 

She falls silent as the villain- whose name she honestly didn’t know, nears Darren. Darren must have managed so far not to piss him off yet, with how soft he seems for him, slipping a strand of his hair behind his ear like he’s something precious. Darren was always precious to her, that was for certain, but it wasn’t often she met someone who saw him in the same light. 

“You’re living together?” Are the first words out of her mouth the moment he brings up the subject. She figured this guy was another one of his fleeting flings, but apparently she was wrong if Darren seemed to like him enough to not only give him a key, but let him move in. It’d be the first time Darren did that, as far as she knows, unless he’d made a habit of letting guys live with him since she “died”. 

She has to put aside the numerous burning questions she has for him though, the moment he asks his own. Because there was a pretty big piece of news, she supposed he needed to know too, although it wasn’t as pleasant as hearing her heartbreaker of a brother may have finally settled down some. 

“I’m alright- he…” she trails off, wishing the nurse was back so that she could be the barer of bad news again instead of Hunter. Picking up one of the pamphlets the nurse had given to her earlier, she leans over Darren’s still sleeping form to give it to the other villain. The words “Pneumonectomy Aftercare” were printed in bold across its front, over top an xray of a chest showing an empty space where a lung used to be. 

“The nurse said he’s healthy and young enough that he should bounce back fairly well after the recovery phase. If you really are living with him, the two of us should figure out some kind of schedule, so that he’s not alone in the apartment at any point for the first week he’s back.” 

He can feel her eyes on him, watching as he surveys the room, as he examines Darren’s face. It makes him feel a little bit vulnerable somehow, like he’s doing something wrong, like he shouldn’t be here. But they’ve had enough of a heart to heart by now to convince Arya that he should stop doubting himself so intensely. Darren likes him. Darren wants him to be happy –– Darren wants him, which means that this is exactly where he’s supposed to be, exactly what he’s supposed to be doing. 

So he relaxes his shoulders instead, and manages to plaster on a teasing smile at her words. At least she isn’t being weird about it, questioning him about his presence here. He’d hate to make a bad impression by having to put up a fight if she wanted him to get the hell out and leave her alone.

“Yeah, yeah. I know all my tricks. Sit, stay, bark.” Arya winks in her direction, before he shifts, fixing the blanket so it lay more carefully over Darren’s chest. He’s so achingly careful, not to disturb him, not to touch any of the parts of him that might be aching. 

The hospital chair is distinctly uncomfortable. He hates places like this, he always has. The clean hospital feeling always makes him feel like he’s back in his childhood. With exams, and tests, and a clinical upbringing devoid of warmth. He wants to bring Darren home, somewhere softer, somewhere he can wrap Darren up in careful warmth. Soft pillows, soft blankets, delicate kisses layed across his forehead. And the thought makes him blush, because she’s asking the question even as he realised what he implied before. 

He can’t tell if it would be a lie to say yes. But it doesn’t feel like it would be. He hasn’t slept anywhere else in months. Darren asked him to stay, told him he could stay for as long as he wanted. He shrugs his shoulders, nods his head a little bit. “More or less.” He says. “More more than less, though.” And then he winces, and remembers why he always gets so nervous around new people, wonders why he can’t just shut up like he normally does. His anxious quiet wouldn’t actually help, but maybe he wouldn’t embarrass himself anymore either. 

He furrows his brow in worry, when she stumbles over her words. His mind is running through worst case scenarios, wondering how bad this could be. And he takes the pamplet when she hands it to him, the scary big words and the scary pictures. He bites his lip, and glances back at Darren, so small and weak in the hospital bed. “Fuck, yeah. No. He’ll be good. He’ll be fine. I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t.”

Once upon a time, he might have felt useless, having Jet have to come in and save his ass when he couldn’t get the job done himself. But pride wasn’t something that survived a life like the one he’d had to lead, at least not for very long. He’d made a tactical error, thinking his powers could do anything to contend with the sheer volume of water they’re facing here, and get Reptilian out is clearly the better plan, one that’s only available now that Jet’s down here, and one he’ll happily concede to. 

So he slips down off of his ice platform, the water counterintuitively warming him as he submerges himself for a moment, trying to thaw the ice out of his frozen suit. It isn’t much help, given the circumstances. He’s shivering pretty violently, despite it, his skin numb in some places. And he feels cold all over again when he stands up finally, in the waist-deep water, the evaporation of all of the water he’s soaked through with pulling all of the heat out of his upper body.

He watches Jet trudge through the water in Reptilian’s directions, willing himself to warm up as much as he can while he waits for him. But warming up is something he’s never been much good at. There’s no way he’ll be able to get warm again until he’s out of his soaking wet suit and into something dry. He won’t drown, is the good news, able to keep himself on his feet and half his body up and out of the water, but he can’t make any promises when it comes to freezing to death.

     “Is Catalyst okay?” he calls after Jet, half because he wants an update and half because he feels so tired, and he thinks maybe talking will help keep him awake until they get out of here. “Did Paladin and the Youth Brigade make it out?

.

He fucking hates this, he thinks, as he sludges through the water. It makes him want to throw up a little bit, and he can’t help but think how lucky Jase is that Jet loves him so much. Unconditionally. It was such a con, but he also wouldn’t trade this endless devotion for the world. He was lucky, that Jase was here. That they hadn’t ruined their love by fucking up a romantic relationship – they had proven that the two of them would endure through everything, that they had earned a place in each other’s lives. 

Jase had never abandoned him. And Jet would never be able to do it either. Would never be able to turn his back. So he powers through his own discomfort, finds Reptilian in the mess of the room. It takes all the strength that he has to grab Reptilian by his costume and hoist him up a little bit. It takes even more of his strength to open up another portal, in conjunction with all of the others scattered throughout the building. Two to the roof. One all the way out to the meeting point. And now this one, to a secluded street several blocks away from the tower. He manages to drag Reptilian through, leave him slumped against a wall. And then he takes a moment to double over and fight back the urge to vomit, something which has never really happened to him in a long long time. 

It’s been years since he overexerted himself. 

But he doesn’t hesitate for long, because Jase is back in the water, probably freezing his balls off. 

So he steps back through and lets the portal close behind them, momentarily. Goes back over to his friend. He reaches Jase, huffing out a breath, and reaching up to run delicate fingers over his face. He’s freezing cold, that much is clear. “Let me get you out of here, okay? You gonna be okay to portal?”