and who's going to save you?

elijah comments on the cold, and lunara waves off their concern with a laugh. “it’s not that bad. i don’t mind walking. fresh air and all that.” she stretches her hands above her head, casting her gaze towards them. “what about you? you won’t be bothered by getting recognized on the street?” 

already, a gaggle of college students are surreptitiously turned their way, one lifting their phone up to take a picture while the rest lean in to whisper to one another. she doesn’t normally care, but something feels off lately. it doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to answer why, especially with elijah next to her—everyone wants to know how paragon’s faring now that the city’s villains have new tricks up their sleeves. are superheroes not so super after all?

lunara rolls her eyes. “you’d think they’d have better shit to do.”

there’s a smile at their lips as they speak and they recognize a beat later that they’re -- happy. spending the evening like this with lunara, getting food with her, happy just feeling normal for once. 

the feeling, of course, only lasts until she points out that there are people gawking at them, as if they’re just things to be looked at. there used to be a time they were one of those people, admiring heroes from afar, and momentarily, they wonder if this is what baz has always felt like. 

it’s not all admiration. they know that now. 

“that’ll probably end up on the front pages somewhere, right?” they ask, keeping their head down as they turn the corner to move towards the diner. 

"i --- " he tries to lift himself, but he can't feel the floor beneath his hand, and another wave of disorientation crashes into him. since he joined crux, ryoji forged his powers to be helpful to his allies and himself. never did he wish to become a liability.

they never imagined it would come to this.

ryoji swallows, allowing elijah to lift and guide him to the couch. tries to calm his storming panic with deep breaths. "can't move my arm, so i think --- i heard the snap."

he closes his eyes, sifting through the memories of the battle. which slam against the wall punctured what? did he miss a bullet or did it lodged in his thigh?

but they're all blurry. he doesn't know.

there are so many things they still want to say to ryoji, it can't end like --

when their eyes meet, elijah swallows. of the two of them, they cannot be the shaky one now.

step by step, they think back to their training. eyes scan downwards, trying to pinpoint the source of the bloodflow. then carefully, they lift the end of ryoji's shirt, a nervous puff leaving them as they examine the wound.

"deep breaths, okay?"

elijah follows their own advice and lets their lungs fill with air, eyes closing for a brief moment as they concentrate. you know how to do this.

a familiar warmth begins at their fingertips, and steadily spreads throughout their hand, a soft, golden glow at their palm. slowly, they press their hand to ryoji's skin, feeling the hot stickiness against their palm.

"ryoji," they whisper, "is it going to come back? the pain?"

he gives elijah a silent once over with a slow slide of pale blue eyes before returning to his nervous wide eyes.“so i am.” the lilt of an irish accent softens his deep tone as cecil remains in the doorway, a slight but formidable blockade to the only exit of the darkened file room. he turns on the light, only blinking once at the sudden brightness. “what secrets are you hunting for that you can’t find elsewhere?”

but elijah finds that when they open their mouth to speak, they can't lie to cecil. a shaky breath leaves them as they finally lift their gaze from the floor to meet cecil's eyes.

"no one was telling us about the -- the serum. i mean, one of us -- one of us died." last word, whispered like a dark secret; there's a lump in their throat just thinking about it. "i thought i'd find something here. maybe. i don't -- i don't really know what i was looking for."

he pats at the metal shelving before wincing again. a flicker of worry burns; his weaves should’ve absorbed the impact of something so simple. so irrelevant when compared to the training he conducts.

it’s a warning, maybe, that he’s due for another maintenance check-up. he’ll have to take stock of his bills, the pay that’s never quite enough —-

“anyways, i should’ve announced myself.” he shoots elijah a smile before finally pushing the last box to its assigned spot. albeit in an awkward shuffle with a stiffening knee.

“and i know i’ve said it already, but thank you. for letting me join last minute. it feels — nice, helping out here. different atmosphere, compared to the office.”

“oh, i should be thanking you for the help. it’s definitely less —” clinical? elijah’s not quite sure that’s the right word for it, so nod in vague agreement before looking down at kiran’s knee. 

“hey, can i —?” they ask, holding a hand out that gives a faint glow as they speak. “your knee. i can take a look at it.” 

it’s not something everyone is comfortable with, they’ve learned, ( and briefly, very briefly, they think of their mother ) so they keep their distance, holding their breath without even realizing it. 

they can't fucking feel.

logically, ryoji understands he can't use his arm. it hangs loosely at his side, unresponsive. but it's every step (labored, limping) and every slam against the fire escape railing that he can't sense. direction is only aided by the steps, and before that, the alleyways they've traversed through the two decades of living in novus.

moments. that's all they experienced before tonight. waking up without any sensation of blankets against skin, and then --- blink! they can move again.

but after experiencing everything --- the crack of bones against concrete, ears splitting, bashing into guards as he and suzu made their escape --- there's nothing.

it shouldn't be like this.

finally, ryoji finds elijah's window. their free hand fumbles with it, over-reliant on sight to understand what his nerves now cannot, and when it opens he tumbles through with a heavy thud.

then, there’s a rattle. once, twice, and they pause the video, brows knitting together in concern. a brief moment of silence if followed by a loud crash out in the living room. immediately, they scramble off of the bed and grab their handheld weapon, slowly inching towards the door when they hear their name.

the voice is familiar, and when they rush out, there's —

“...ryoji?” 

his hair is different; it takes them a few moments for their mind to register who it really is, but their mind can't stay there for long because so much blood. and once the realization sets in, they move. i

can do this — of all things, i can do this. they remind themselves over and over again, thinking back to all their training, the anatomy lessons, the logical steps they need to take here.

"ryoji, it's — it's going to be okay." their voice shakes as they rush up to wrap a careful arm around ryoji, slowly guiding them to the couch.

then again, maybe that sincerity is what paragon needs. 

but what does she know about being a hero? 

she supposes over food is the best time to ask. maybe. that, and, contrary to what they might think, she doesn’t dread their company. she wouldn’t be here in the first place if she did.

walking over, she falls in place next to them. “i don’t hate you, you know.” she glances up, a slanted grin revealing itself. “not anymore, anyway. besides, i don’t feel like eating alone. it’s boring. don’t tell me you don’t want to?” 

“food sounds great,” elijah nods slowly, stepping backwards towards the storage door. “i’m really not very picky, so i’m good with whatever you’re in the mood for.” 

and once all lights are off and doors are locked, they step out onto the street, the cool march air brushing against their skin. one deep breath later, they turn their head towards lunara. 

“you all right? it’s kind of cold. think it’s about a five minute walk to where all the diners are but i could call a cab.” 

but the sweetness of the moment is short-lived. the feeling of cruelty that elijah mentions is not unfamiliar to ryoji. but it’s forgetting that steals their breath. for a heartbeat, their mind steals them away and —-

— frightened eyes rolling back, blood spilling over their hands, they’re screaming for a healer as they try to take the pain that doesn’t ever seem to stop filling their friend, and it’s not enough, it’s not —-

— their grip tightens around the mug. the heat of it pools into his hands. “you don’t need to forget about them.” their whisper sounds as loud as a scream in the apartment. “you move them into a corner of your mind and visit the memories from time to time. and that — that isn’t cruel, don’t you think?”

he knocks his shoulder against elijah’s, offering a small smile. maybe it doesn’t appear pained. maybe it doesn’t appear haunted. maybe it’s simply, just simply, a smile.

and yet, it fades anyways. elijah starts their question, and ryoji waits. he senses the direction it will take. and he doesn’t fault elijah, for wondering; for following through on their own curiosity. but he still finds himself withholding a sigh and rubbing a thumb on the handle of the mug.

“in paragon, my face would be plastered across this city and elsewhere. and if not my face, then aspects of myself that just…” he trails off, going still. he can finally feel the heat of the tea cooling. “i’m not keen on the larger public knowing who i am.”

he thinks — no, he hopes — that his brother and mother believe him dead. he doesn’t need either of them tracking him to novus.

finally, they take a sip of the tea. blueberry taste coats their tongue, faint but pleasant. a hum thrums in the back of their throat. slowly, the tension eases from ryoji’s shoulders.

when they place the mug down, they’re already reaching for the milk. curious, curious. “am i not really a hero since i’m not in paragon?” they ask elijah as they uncap the jug. they hold it just above the tea, steady hand creating a slow and short stream of milk.

ryoji’s words are so different from what they have been taught in the past few years that it catches them off-guard. how many times had they been told by their nsa-assigned therapist and agents and trainers to empty their mind, to forget about it, to move on and focus on their next mission? it’s strange, how they feel like they can finally breathe, now they’ve been told it’s okay to remember them, still. they meet ryoji’s eyes, only briefly, and they, too, return a smile that’s not quite there. 

their eyes drop back down to ryoji’s hand. although they’re not surprised by ryoji’s answer, it embarrasses them, still, thinking about the way their face is plastered everywhere. a small thought washes over them, and they wonder if ryoji thinks any less of them because of the way they’re presented to the public. they know it too — the way the nsa makes them sound like so much more than they actually are. 

they’re no saint, after all, unlike the name they’ve given them. 

“yeah, that makes sense,” eli nods, pushing their embarrassment down. “i mean —i get it. i didn’t think it would be like this, really. or maybe i did, i don’t know. i just never thought about how much time went into doing all of the — the other things. so many interviews,” and they laugh at that, but it tastes bitter on their tongue. 

they watch ryoji take the milk in mild surprise, but it’s the words that follow after that make their eyes widen. 

“oh, no, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to say that,” they stammer, feeling their face turn hot. “you’re — you’re amazing. when i saw you for the first time, it was —” breathtaking, they think, but they press their lips together to stop before they embarrass themself any further. “you’re more of a hero than i’ll ever be. honestly.” 

they finally sip at their tea as well, holding tightly onto their mug with two hands. but even their embarrassment doesn’t last long as the other mentions the nsa; even in jest, it makes elijah’s stomach drop for reasons that aren’t quite clear to them. 

“they don’t really —” elijah begins, yes floating downwards as they try to find the right words. what would they tell them to say? 

watch your words, saint. people will read into everything. 

“they prefer it if we stick to, um, nsa missions. except for emergencies, ‘course. so before when i said, you know, i just meant that we could work together more if you were . . . a part of it. i dunno.” 

the lights in the storage room switch off, and she lets out a small yelp, hands reaching out to stop the box she’s putting back from toppling forward. when they switch back on, she’s caught standing there on her tip-toes, trying to keep plastic cups from falling onto her head.

“boo,” she deadpans, then pushes the box back into place. “seeing in the dark didn’t really come with my set of powers, no.” lunara shrugs. “but it’s cool. i was basically done here, anyway.” bouncing on her heels, she turns to fully face them. “anything else to do? or you wanna grab something to eat now?”

“oh, i’m sor —” they step forward, but by the time they’re reaching with their hand, she’s already pushed it back into the right spot. so they push their awkwardly floating hand into their jacket pocket before nodding, vaguely noting the way their stomach rumbles at the thought of food.

“we — you want to eat?” elijah asks again, “you want to grab something to eat with me?” 

but then the kettle whistles, and ryoji sucks a quick breath through teeth. “don’t count out the milk just yet — who know if i’ll like blueberry enough without it, right?”

then, for a moment, ryoji closes their eyes, caution lingering as they consider their next words.

“yes and no.” he swallows before carrying on. “i can only speak for myself, not for baz or anyone else. but i have a decade on you in terms of experience with all of this. making these decisions, being sure about them, is part muscle memory — and part compartmentalization.”

a beat passes, and then ryoji steps forward, placing himself next to elijah. he doesn’t wish to crowd, but keeping his distance seems — apathetic.

his voice is low when they start. as if sharing a secret, even though it’s only a truth they’ve repeated through the years. “there’s not a day where i don’t feel like i can do more. i’m — if i’m not careful, i’m constantly replaying memories of who i didn’t save.”

ryoji swallows again, forcing their hands flat against the counter. “but if i sit with that for too long, elijah, it will hinder what i can do next time. it took a long time to accept that. and that acceptance, with all it means for what we do, is something that can only happen with time. you’re not behind — and one day it will feel like you aren’t.”

and as though his presence alone isn’t a gift in itself, he offers them advice and something about it makes them feel warm, like they’re being seen for once. the apartment doesn’t seem so big and empty as it usually does, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other now. 

“i think — i know you’re right.” they pour the hot water into their mugs and slide one over to ryoji as they contemplate their words. “it’s just . . . sometimes trying to forget about it feels so cruel, too, you know? i want to forget it but i don’t want to forget them and it’s . . .” elijah sighs, feeling as though they have said far too much. they hadn’t asked ryoji here to put all this heaviness on them, after all. they step aside for a moment to grab milk out of their fridge and setting it down on the counter. momentarily, they consider giving ryoji space, but they find themself slotting back into the space they’ve left behind. 

“ryoji, can i ask why you’re not,” brows knit together as they search for the right words, the right way to ask. they’ve learned in the recent years that heroes are a sensitive topic to some, especially when it comes to paragon. everyone has an opinion of them, as they understand, but they hope the other knows that they mean no harm. 

“i feel like we worked well together. and if you had the resources that paragon had . . .” 

and here, it’s offered as patience. as kindness.

so ryoji waits, with no expectation, until elijah is ready to share. years within crux has bestowed lessons of what works with fledgling heroes; rarely does it ever involve pressure to divulge.

and elijah offers more than fine; if they finished there, concern would spike. ryoji cups elijah’s confessions and carefully parses through each. part curiosity, part connection.

“you know, i was happy you were there too.” they swallow, trying not to dwell on their hands. of what they can only take and give.

ryoji clears his throat. “you’re not giving yourself enough credit, elijah. even if you hadn’t witnessed something like that before…it’s hard to envision you staying frozen in place the entire time. and that’s a testament to what you’re already capable of.”

but they think ryoji’s wrong about one thing, though they don’t voice it. they’re not capable — and as much as it stings, they know that no one looks at them and truly think themself as someone capable. they can try, but is it enough? when they can’t even close their eyes now without seeing the same scene at the ball over and over again. their hands grip the edge of the counter a little too hard at the memory. 

“does it ever get easier, seeing people like that?” they ask, “because i — i see baz go out to missions all the time and he always seems so sure about what he’s doing. you did, too, at the ball. and i just —what if i never get to be like that?” 

they hear the beginnings of a whistle and turn around quickly to turn the kettle off. it makes them feel silly, blurting all of this out to ryoji. 

“milk? actually, that doesn’t sound right with blueberry tea, sorry —” 

Her kindness is about the only thing she has.

But then there’s Elijah. Wonderful, incredible Elijah; she’s grateful for their presence during such a tough week, and even more so that they’re willing to have lunch with her. The sight of their face causes her to light up. “Danishes? Really?” she asks, quicky sitting taller to view the contents in the bag. “Oh, you’re a lifesaver. I haven’t had a danish in so long – sit! Sit, I insist. I made a couple of pastries myself because I can’t stand doing nothing, so consider this a much-needed lunch and learn. How are you doing?”

“okay, i guess,” they begin, looking down at their fingers. “i keep looking up the accident to see if . . . if they’re saying anything about how many people —” died. how many people i couldn’t save. the words are stuck in their throat and they can’t seem to look up at emmy, feeling ashamed of their title as one of the paragon heroes more than anything else. 

“ — but i’m fine, em. honestly, i’m okay. what about you? you didn’t get hurt, did you?” 

elijah’s head lifts slightly at the mention of the suit, and they meet eamon’s eyes for a moment. they remember the first time he showed them the suit — and while they can’t recall all the technical terms he had used to explain all the features, they remember how they felt when he told them it was designed just for them. now, they question it too — if it was really for them or something else altogether. 

“it’s my job,” elijah insists, almost petulantly. “i signed up for this. we all did. so it doesn’t matter if the suit can’t protect me. and it shouldn’t — it shouldn’t matter to you, anyway.” their eyes shift away, back to watching the screens. “or maybe it does. i don’t know. you could probably add it to your file, how much damage i can take before i can’t heal myself.”