#oops i lied

They get out with their eclipse mode. That kind of immediate danger outweighs the risk it carries, and ignoring the risks entirely, that's what that mode is for. They both want out, they need to be out, both in control and away from the danger.

It's not smooth at all, with that foreign electricity still throwing their systems into overdrive, their circuits struggling to contain it all. They run much hotter than they should, and by then, stealth really becomes a non-issue by how impossible it is, even without their cooling fans in overdrive.

They don't think, there's no more need to. They fall back on the basest instincts - there's pain, so make the pain go away.

All the attackers did with their stunt ensured that they end up fighting someone inhumanly strong who no longer cares about casualties.

So they get out, and like an adrenaline rush running out, they just fade back into singular control, barely even noticing as both still process what happened on their own. Maybe some fried circuits, not all joints working as they should, the touch receptors in the area where they were hit totally fried. Limping away, wondering if the leftover tingling is just like an afterimage of the pain, or if their systems got that kind of damaged.

Still they don't think. They just go home.

Only on the porch do they start thinking, hesitating. This is a very new situation that rattled them immensely, and while logically they know they should crawls into their little workshop and to their tools and technical manuals, they just...

They use their key for Y/N's door, and go in.

(There's of course some variables here - is Y/N home? If it's at night, they usually work themself, for some reason not with Dusk. For the sake of the comfort, I'm saying they took the night off for unspecified reasons and are home when they hear their door click shut.)

Y/N, awake because they aren't gonna mess up their nocturnal schedule, is probably upstairs, chilling. Reading a book, or finishing up a little gadget, whatever hobby you want to project.

It's a little earlier than expected, perhaps, so they're not giddy when they rush downstairs - in their line of work, coming home early can go very very well or very very badly.

This one is very very bad.

Moon looks at them, still speechless, not quite sure where to even start, but both Sun (who refused to go into rest mode again, neither even thought about it/ suggested it) and him know they need Y/N right now.

And Y/N sees him - eyes wide, unreadable expression, limping - and cold dread washes through them immediately.

They weren't there, again.

They let them get hurt, again.

Even now that they all know, they still can't protect their partners.

But when Moon takes a hesitant step towards them and crumbles, they push all that away. Rush to him to catch him, and then he's clinging to them like his life depends on it.

(It feels a little like it does. The tingling hasn't stopped yet, and he so desperately wants to feel something, to touch someone who'll make him feel safe.)

Y/N pushes down all questions to first whisper reassurance - he's okay, he'll be fine, they're there, they won't let go, they'll help.

The first words Moon manages to get out?

"Sun's awake, too."

A shift to reassuring them both, acknowledging them both, and a lot of Y/N already checking them for obvious injuries and points of repair. Most damage is internal, though, so they only linger at the torn clothes and the dents left behind by whatever gadget caused the shocks, and they try so, so hard to keep it together for their boys.

But when they do finally break and cry, and Moon just silently, still stunned, wipes those tears away (suddenly it seems so strange. These are tears neither Sun nor him can shed, but they are for them, for the pain they went through), he manages more and more thoughts.

Namely, they are still in the hallway, sitting on the ground.

"Bed."

"We can go to the couch, it's closer -"

"Bed."

And so Y/N helps Moon up the stairs, one hand of his clinging to them, one to the railing. He basically collapses on their bed, and then they crawl next to him, and he buries himself in their arms. They hold him close still, petting and brushing where they can reach, and finally, finally they work up the courage to ask what happened.

"We had to eclipse. We said we'd never do that again."

Technically, not an answer. But it tells Y/N the most terrifying details first. They know Eclipse, capital E, they know how he came to be, why the brothers had a strained relationship, and how scared all of them are of that mode and its risks.

But whatever happened was so bad, scared them so bad, that now Moon is barely talking, barely walking, and made both of them resort to something they fear could erase one or even both of them from existence with one unfortunate glitch.

They cling tighter to Moon, then. 

They know another thing, too. 

“You got out. You got out, and back here, and you’re both still here. It was a tough call to make, but I’m proud of you for making it back.” 

“We didn’t think -” 

“Moon.” 

He glances up, caught in that need to argue (and have Y/N justify their actions, to lift that burden, to absolve them of the perceived failing that going back on their word would spell), but he lets their heavy words interrupt him to look at them. 

Y/N frees their arms to cup his face when he looks up, leaning so close their foreheads and noses touch. There are tears in their eyes, again, and they look at him, pleading.

“Was there a chance that you would have died without an eclipse?” 

The silence speaks for him. 

Somehow, Y/N clings even closer. Their eyes now shut, tears pooling in their corners before running down their face. 

“Then I’m glad you risked it. Please - please let me be glad. Why would I ever not be when it means you could come home? To me? You can’t leave me, please.” 

And the boys got what they wanted - their partner, whom they trust with their life and more (like their brother’s life), telling them they did the right thing. Maybe instinctively, maybe they didn’t carefully consider the risk - but it doesn’t matter, because of course they’re glad they made it home. Sure, they were terrified, and they didn’t even clean up the mess they made, didn’t alert the agency, nothing - 

Because they wanted to go home. 

That’s all they wanted, all they needed, and maybe it was selfish, maybe it was terrifyingly risky, but they made it. And they don’t actually want to regret that. 

So he tightens his grip around them, breaking out of their hold to press close right under their chin, where he can feel their pulse racing. It convinces him, and in turn Sun, that they did make it and they are home, they’re alive, they will be fine, they can get fixed, and things will be okay again.

But they also very much hate to see Y/N this distraught, so Moon digs his fingers into their back (blunt. not the time), to reassure them that he’s there, too. They wrap around him, arms winding around his back, and just tremble. 

“We wanted to come home to you.” 

And that’s a promise, too - that yes, the eclipse mode is a terrifying risk, but that in moments where they have to choose between Death and a Maybe, they will choose the maybe.

They stay like that for a long time, before Y/N slowly starts getting more information out of them. 

And then they’re getting taken care of. 

Eclipse is fortunately not in rest mode when he gets the message that they might have to go to his engineer of trust, if they could crash at his place for a few days? With the offer to call about the details right then, and goes through many emotions at once. Terror, Relief, Surprise (positive), and some weird, deep reassurance that not only does he hear as soon as possible about it, but they actually seek out his presence about it. 

They have their call, and Y/N gives him a rundown of what they know, and that Moon seems a little out of it still but reasonably so for someone in shock. That they’ll do their best to make the trip down as comfortable as possible for them, but they won’t wait to visit until after they’re fixed. 

Eclipse ends the call with a rather shy little “Thank you.”

Y/N then notifies HQ of the situation, giving them the details of what sort of clean up is needed. Then they continue to explain they’re all three taking the next two weeks off, but to please organize an appointment with a trusted engineer in Eclipse’s hometown (: 

Agent River sighs. One of those bone-deep, resigned ones. 

“Is there any way we can speed up your family gathering so we aren’t down our best three agents during the mission you’re already booked for?” 

“Well, it’d save an awful lot of gas money and time if we didn’t have to drive out.” 

“We’ll send you the location for the pick-up, you’ll get your flight. You’ll be back for your mission. It’s an important one.” 

“We’ll get them in working order, first.” 

“Don’t assume unacknowledged means undone, agent. Both agents Dusk and Dawn get full coverage regarding repairs for on the job injury. Go get ready, save all of us time.” 

“... Two hours. I’ll need to make sure they can at least walk, it would make things easier.” 

Agent River just hangs up. She hasn’t got all day, and has calls to make. 

Y/N does fix some minor wiring, probably only a temporary fix. They all stick close the next few days, and while they do go on their mission together, they’re a bit more on edge than they used to be. 

That will stretch on into the long term for a good while, where they all refuse to work without the other. It slows down Dusk/ Dawn’s performance a good bunch, because they now stick to Robin’s schedule. They’re still doing good work - but they earn a couple tired glares from River when even the easiest mission becomes a team effort. 

They ease up on it only because they also carry a lot more gadgets of the weaponized kind, courtesy of Eclipse. They even book a room in the Research and Development department to test them all out, to ensure they know exactly how to use/ activate them should the need arise. It leads to a lot of excited R&D staff and Eclipse gaining a bit of a reputation (positive, of course) at their HQ

It stays with them all, though, and they don’t know if they will ever go back to how it was before. Things never really went back to “before” after Robin got stabbed, after all - there’s still nights where Dusk is just a little quieter as he shadows them, or afternoons where Sun just traces the scar through their clothes, because he knows exactly where it is.

But that’s okay, actually. They have each other, and that’s worth it. That’s what they have each other for.