#yes. again

"What an curious little anomaly. And you're not here by accident, but on purpose. How interesting..." — The voice of that woman, Purple Tear, still echoed in Fausto's mind, reminding him that he didn't belong here, it wasn't his Earth Bet with such familiar, but at the same time distant parahumans and their superpowers.

Before attacks, Purple Tear looked at the librarians and their tacticians like a predator, ready to strike at the slightest mistake of the opponent, but at the same time something like a teacher, strict and cruel, but if you could survive this... He didn't know what to think. This tactic was almost reminiscent of his behavior on Earth Beth, when Fausto only had to rely on words and his Thinker power in few battles, but less so when Fausto didn't have to hide his powers in, well, a suit. It was also difficult to find colored glasses or glass here, but librarians could get "gifts" by suppressing guests, and when he found out about this, he was able to get several types of glasses: ordinary and black (although only one could be used in battles, not like his goggles, where the glasses were easy to change with one habitual movement of the hand and which were protected from the inside after the Shatterb...), using the fact that he was the last to wake up on the floor of the Social Sciences. Luckily Chesed was still an understanding and kind person (no longer that awful-looking boxbot and for good), he was able to gain experience, brush up his rusting skills a bit, and pick up some edge along the way. Although he lacked the familiar grip on the falchion*, that habitual hand-biting feeling at the slightest sign of panic. His armor was also missing, the pressure on the surprisingly pleasant, to the point of breaking, scales on the shirt below. Perhaps his armor was somehow different from the other, it seems that another set of Discord was worn by someone, if he is not mistaken, on the Hod floor, so he couldn't ask about this that time.

He usually wore glasses on his forehead, lowering them only immediately before receiving guests. The headaches weren't as severe or non-existent with moderate use, his habitual tactics weren't as conspicuous, perceived as trying to be cool (as in Winslow, where he had to pretend to be normal despite gangs that could, with one wrong look, destroy his life), if you take into account the fact that he was the youngest agent in the corporation, which Captain Devona or Sammer could joke about in a friendly way (or how he heard whispers from clerks behind him, discussing where he could get all these scars on his face and why he didn't work as a fixer with such skills at that age). He used to work with it so much before, making it almost second nature, hiding in plain sight to some extent.

With the deterioration of vision, there was a somewhat easier attitude. Because he tried not to use too much force and not get caught, the vision loss in his remaining eye had slowed down to a negligible level. If he was killed at the reception... A strange feeling, as if he had been before the Libr... It doesn't matter, some stupid feeling.

These thoughts always made Fausto's head ache. He hated this feeling. And how, after the resurrection, he did not remember anything after the defeat, except for a feeling of fear and something that he could not name. It was so different from being locked up with an abnomality in a book, being able to see what was happening, feeling everything as if in a dream, being aware of the information.

After Fausto, the Librarians in general, or even the Patrons were resurrected by the power of the Library, none of them showed any damage, which added a bit of honey to the tar. But intuition suggested that only he felt after the resurrections so strange that it was not something to talk about with others. The feeling of déjà vu and that he was missing something important that he could never find, not without someone else's help.

From Purple Tear, like other Color fixers like Red Mist or Blue Reverberation when he was scouting the situation in Library, there was an air of strength, power, so nostalgically reminiscent of the Earth Bet and the Triumvirate, only different in being not like that, more ... Supernatural.

Travel through dimensions, as she herself said. Not that the rest of the Library understood it as the Purple Tear herself, or at least him (not sure if it's correct, but hey, it's better than nothing), but on Earth Bet it was common knowledge.

The original Earth Aleph, the professor who created the door and made contact with the Earth Bet, twenty-two portals, hidden and guarded from the civilians, how they received some films, books or computer games from the Earth Aleph and so on. Such a familiar and once disgustingly boring part of recent history was now saddening. Fuck, what would have happened if he'd stayed there instead of accepting that forced offer? Could he live on another Earth provided he didn't approach the cape's business at all? Sometimes this questions still plagued him, when the loneliness became unbearable, when he was caught in small details only to end up unimportant because of his corrections or lies, or when his "luck" gave him a short break from all this encryption at every conversation. If only he was better...

The blue color that was everywhere on the Social Sciences floor was supposed to be soothing, but sometimes Fausto caught himself thinking that calmness was replaced by nostalgia for the coast of Brockton Bay, how he missed the bitter-salty smell from the Bay, not enough warm, wet and a little snowy weather in winters , no matter how terrible and rotten the city in which he was born was. There was less fear. Leviathan's attack still made him shudder sometimes in his sleep, waking up silently from nightmares where water was everywhere, he couldn't get out, his breath was not enough, when the reflex breath escaped only to bitter and icy water made him choke, the pressure of the thickness was unbearable , squeezing it and making it choke harder, making him feel like the chest is squeezing the organs, especially the lungs. The cold from the water was awful. Sometimes it was nightmares of flying shards of glass biting into his body, the pain was almost real. Sometimes his scars would throb and burn like a fire as a reminder. Sometimes it was just the color and texture of the floor space that made Fausto feel panic attacks. He could get distracted when reception of the guests happened, but their floor was used for this a little less than others, especially the floor of Languages under the auspices of Gebura.

Fausto took a deep breath, hoping no one heard what was said to him, that everyone took it for them and not specifically for him. The page he was equipped for the battle was unequipped and he could relax a little in his body and the form of the floor.

"Fau! Please wait for me!" — Familiar voice, his floor colleague, who came to the Lobotomy Corporation on day 50, not quite familiar as Fausto would like, but if he remembered correctly, his name was Adam. He had woken before him, but nonetheless seemed ordinary, if not seen in combat, where they weren't as different as wanting to survive.

"Of course. Did something happen?" Fausto slowed his pace, allowing his fellow librarian to catch up.

Adam looked out of breath, his usually beautifully styled purple bob was disheveled, and he himself was breathing rapidly.

"Didn't think you'd hear me at all, tall man," the violet haired smiled contagiously, causing Fausto to smirk slightly at the corner of his lips. Despite his age of twenty, he was tall compared to most of his colleagues.

"Why is this?" He asked politely, not really expecting an answer, and continued walking towards the stairs to either go down to the Hod or Malkuth floor, or go up and help someone on the upper floors if he was unlucky and noticed. Chesed didn't mind the behavior of the librarians as long as they were normal about it and helpful. Perhaps it seemed to Fausto, or Chesed realized that Fau sometimes felt uneasy in this environment.

"I can't keep up with your big steps with my small legs." Adam explained, gesticulating emotionally.

"Aren't you only a little shorter than me," Fausto narrowed his eyes, trying to determine the height of the interlocutor by eye, but did not succeed very much, "ten centimeters**?"

“Not all of us are given high growth. And in my opinion, it’s fifteen,” such an answer made Fausto raise an eyebrow, but in a second he realized that it was another, hidden with a prosthetic eye behind the hair and changed his expression.

Adam didn't answer, and they came to the stairs in almost awkward silence. But as soon as Fausto was convinced that none of the patron librarians was going to show up or go in his direction and was ready to go to the lower floors, Adam broke the silence.

"Where are you going? Isn't it interesting on our floor?" That question threw Fausto off balance.

"No, it's just..." He hesitated for a moment, torn with the urge not to reveal himself and to explain at least something so as not to arouse suspicion, before continuing with a weary sigh, "I just need to take a break from the blue. Not really good memories."

"Oh, sorry for asking that question in this case," Adam looked guilty, but Fausto just brushed it off, "And which floor are you going to? The Engineering floor?"

Garza*** just shook his head.

"No. I don't think I'll be able to look at purple in the next few hours after doing this with the Purple Tear and her teleportations."

"Is it because of what she told you at the reception?" - This phrase was said as if by accident, but caused an instant response.

Silence. Fausto could have sworn everything stopped for a second. The thought flashed through his head that he could not be mistaken here. If he's lucky, it'll just be written off as a joke or forgotten in a bunch of cases. But there were no distractions he could use. He mustn't make a mistake.

"What do you mean by that?" He gave Adam a thoughtful look, hiding his too-fast-beating heart and the unnatural immobility of some muscles under his usual tone and bored look.

Adam shrugged. His bright pink eyes peered into Fausto's reaction.

"She was focused on you for the first part of the battle. You have something similar, but I don't know what. And why did she call you an anomaly?"

Too close. Need to calm down. Pretend that she was mistaken and confuse the interlocutor, put him on false trails, chasing wild geese. What to do here? His body treacherously froze as he pondered the answer.

"She could have been lying. Besides, she hurt me quite badly in the beginning, why shouldn't she be focused on attacking? Unless..." He recalled how much the corporation employees loved rumors. This could be his chance and saving straw for his bluff, "Couldn't she have mistaken me for her son?"

Fausto feignedly widened his eyes, hoping that this trick would work. Adam frowned thoughtfully, forcing him to believe for a second...

"I don't think so. That's not what she was talking about and that's not what I meant. Your attack styles are somewhat similar, but..."

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. Fausto turned to see the two librarians from his floor. He didn't hear what Adam was explaining now. They followed him. And now they realized that he noticed them. As Adam, who suddenly fell silent, also noticed.

"What does all this surveillance mean?" Perhaps his tone was too dry, but he barely paid attention to it. The sharply pounding heart in the chest did not improve the situation, as did the distant pounding of blood in the ears.

“Fau, listen. We noticed that you have become less frequent on the floor with us and more and more distant. We just want to understand and help,” Acacia, one of those who followed him, began to explain, as if trying to calm him down, but she was interrupted Cosmo:

"What does it mean that you're an anomaly and not from here? What about your other oddities?" Her normally emotionless tone this time was full of suspicion, weighing on her emotions uncomfortably.

This means that his thoughts about this all this time were correct, and all his successful cases and avoidance of an answer were not forgotten. It forced previously frozen muscles into a fight-or-flight corporate readiness mode, no freeze that could lead to a fate worse than death.

"What's wrong with that? Do you rather believe the guest to be received and pry into my story that I don't want to remember because of all these injuries?! I have my own reasons!"

Anger mixed with fear. He began to see red, processing every movement of his colleagues as if instantly, waiting for the inevitable reaction, a blow.

"No, wait!"

"We just want to help!" - Two voices: Adam and Acacia tried to bring him to feelings, but Fausto focused only on Cosmo, entering into confrontation with her views. Adam moved away from him, noticing an overreaction to the approach, namely Fausto's tension. Cosmo remained unmoved.

"Maybe it was worth trying to discuss it with us instead of hiding?" Cosmo raised her voice, going on the offensive. Perhaps there was meaning in her words, but now Fausto did not hear it, absorbed only in his own mistakes.

"You want this?! For me to have another panic attack like Leviathan or Shatterbird attacks?! You want me to show all my cards?! No, fuck you. Just! Leave! Me! Alone!" He broke into a shout, oblivious to the curious looks of the librarians from the floors below, who had come to inquire about the source of the sound.

Silence. Realizing what he said, Fausto immediately came to his senses. No. No. Nonononononono. Now it's over. Now he... No, he wanted to live. He didn't want too many questions, or questions in general. But now it's all his fault. The pounding in his ears became unbearable. He failed. He failed. Damn it, he didn't make it. Everything seemed to stop. The pounding of the heart was replaced by white noise. Tense muscles reacted without his participation. The habitual reflex of childhood and adolescence eclipsed everything.

Run.

And he sped off.

***

Fausto did not know how long he had run. He followed his extraordinarily heightened intuition, skillfully dodging and hiding, taking advantage of every advantage of the situation in pursuit ("•_• Translation error?...). Perhaps he was not pursued, but his wildly pounding heart spoke of something else. To safety. Away from them. Where could he hide, even if only for a short time. How he wished he could turn back time and stop those words from escaping, instead telling another lie that others would gladly believe. But... Would there be any questions left for him?

Intuition suggested that here he could hide for a while, which he did. It looked like it was one of the upper floors, he wasn't sure which one, despite the colors, now looking a little faded.

But if he had said something else, would he have been safe? His excuses would have been remembered, and sooner or later this situation would have happened. No. Even in the Library, where Angela was the director, an android who broke the Head's taboo by her mere existence. No. Not safe. Nowhere. Nowhere nowhere nowhere nowhere nowhere.

Fuck, if he only knew how to keep his mouth shut, he wouldn't be in this situation right now. Or not, would be, but later.

Fausto wrapped his arms around himself as he slowly lowered himself down the wall. His forearms hurt from his own grip, and his body began to shake violently. These were the consequences, only of his actions and no one else's. So why was he so scared? Why couldn't he move more, again, instead being stuck in his own thoughts? Soon he would run out of hiding power, or run out of space, given the possibility of other librarians or even Angela joining the search. He will soon be found, he will have to run again, but he will not be able to leave the library, he was tied to this place after the collapse of the Wing L and the subsequent days of light until it became dark. No. What will happen to him now? These are not the words that he will be able to hide from, he will not be able to escape like in Brockton Bay.

Another spiral of thoughts was interrupted by someone's gentle voice:

-"Child, can you hear me?"-

"W-who are you?" - the voice could not stand something louder than a whisper, the throat, compressed from all these negative emotions, simply did not allow it.

-"Does it matter now? What do you want?"-

What did he desire? The only thought that raced through his head was safety. But fear didn't help. Trust this voice? Why should he?

"Who are you? Why should I trust you?" There was no one around, a quick glance around the area made that clear. Who was he talking to then?

-"Perhaps you've heard my name somewhere. I'm Carmen, child, and I know that you are Fausto, and you didn't come here of your own free will, and that you didn't want to feel any of that."-

A gentle voice, from which only kind red eyes appeared in Fau's head, caused another attack of fear. It was what he feared the most after being in the City. If anyone else found out about this, their life would be ruined given the possibilities. What will they do with it? If someone finds out about his superpower, what will happen to him? It certainly wouldn't be safe and put the Fau at risk. Only his consequences...

He didn't know anyone named Carmen, that name just didn't add up. Intuition didn't respond, and neither did his powers when putting on his goggles, showing no threads of emotion or action other than his tangled light blue, cold and wet. There was no one there, and yet he heard a voice. It didn't feel like a memory about his Trigger, which was confusing. The lungs involuntarily contracted, the feeling of squeezing made him think of panic attacks that had not occurred for a long time.

-"Child, it's okay not to know any aspect of our lives. Please don't be afraid to speak up, I'm not the type to give your secrets to others. And if you want, you can not share your secrets and fears, I won't judge. Isn't it Wouldn't you like to live without this fear?"-

Such words were reminiscent of Coil, but how could someone with such a kind voice have terrible intentions? The body felt like after an electric shock, involuntarily causing the compressed lungs to gulp air. Stranger's abilities. Of course, it wasn't just the abnormalities here or the capes of his world that had strange powers. He must not believe, he must not, he must...

-"Please, can you explain what you're talking about?"-

Did he speak out loud? No, panic must have gotten the better of him. But... What did he have to lose now, knowing he couldn't escape? He began to speak, listening to any rustle, his heart beating in his chest like a small bird caught in the dark capture of a predator, and fear made its way up from his chest, through his arms, to his numb fingertips in an icy wave. So little time before the inevitable. He remained a coward after all...

Why does it always have to be him? It's so unfair...

"Where I'm from... Some have superpowers. Different. Strangers affect how you perceive things. They can be dangerous, but they'll be like your best friends until your belly is ripped open and you're still smiling, not seeing the trick."

Fausto took a sharp and noisy gulp of air, catching his breath.

-"Why do you think I would do this? I can't influence the real world in full understanding, only guide others with advice. But the outcome should always be chosen by the person, not by me. Shouldn't your opinion in a conversation be on an equal footing with opinion of the interlocutor?"-

He would have chuckled at such a statement, but the rustle of other people's steps, along with the voices of others, made him frantically search for a place, hide and be silent, waiting for the slightest rustle of the soles of someone else's shoes, a hint of other sounds except his heartbeat and quiet, but hoarse breathing, to finally leave. He had been doing this for so long, since he was a child, and he doubted those skills would ever rust or go away, not with his appearance there, not with his secrets here.

As soon as he knew that everyone was gone, intuition prompted it, almost drowned out by the fluttering of his heart, Fausto continued.

"If everything was so simple, then there would not be much in my life. There would not be so many situations on the verge of life and death, there would not be my forced work for the Coil, the persecution of heroes if I was in the field of view after those robberies not according to my will, battles with the Endbringers," His throat closed sharply at the mere memory of the sound of a loaded gun pointed at his head, a conversation where he could not even defend his opinion and an unexpected rescue. It would not have been his work in the Lobotomy Corporation, there would not have been his fallen comrades-in-arms who did not wake up in the Library...

But the voice seemed to understand the direction of his thoughts.

-"Poor child. Wouldn't you like this to end? So that you can finally be safe, not haunted by a past you can't control? All these actions... It's not your fault, child, and you shouldn't blame yourself for not having choice or power to change something. Aren't you tired of running all your life? Maybe you want to forget about all these horrors?"-

Something in that kind voice pulled him, wished that this would finally end, that it would all fall into place. But Fausto himself... He didn't know. No more. If he had a chance to forget everything... What would he do? Would it be worth it? If he accepted it, what would be the price? What about others?

The voice answered patiently, without reducing its warmth, as if reminding of someone far away, but... About whom?

- "The decision and the price depends only on you and your judgment. If you do not want, then I will not judge or interfere. If you accept this ... It is not for me to judge your price, nor for me to condemn you. Take your time, child, I will wait until your choice."- The soft intonations of this voice somehow resembled a mother, not his, those he read about in deep childhood, which he dreamed about all this time, hiding from drunken anger, and after and "friends" of his mother, having learned his lesson with his blood and his broken nose.

Two possibilities hung in front of him: frightened and panicked, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But... Would it really be worth it? Just forget about it and be safe? And How? Was it even possible? His intuition was silent as he teetered between choices, feeling himself walking on a thread over an abyss.

Footsteps approached from both sides. In the echoing voices, he recognized Roland — patron librarian of the Keter floor, whom he had helped with sorting books once or twice. Fau's heart sank sharply, and it felt like it had missed a few beats. They talked about him.

"Mm, how did you manage to lose your friend? There aren't many places to hide. Or you could ask Angela instead of me." Roland's tired voice was spiced with curiosity and slowly approached his location.

No. No, no, no, there was nowhere to run from here, he couldn't do anything. Even if he resisted, it was most likely not just Roland. Indeed, the patron librarian of the Keter floor was answered by Adam's voice.

"He was surprisingly fast and zigzag like a drunken hare. I swear we didn't expect this, we just wanted to talk, but Fau was too fast. What if he's a spy for the Head and that's why he did it? What if he's just a misguided Arbiter or even Color? Perhaps we acted too directly and therefore scared him off and were too harsh? Angela... We were a little scared to ask her after what we did."

Adam's rantings were interrupted by the usually little emotional and firm voice of Cosmo:

"He hid too much and acted suspiciously. If he chose to run instead of answering, then he could act dangerously in the future and put us at risk. The conversation was necessary, sooner or later."

Roland answered, and Fau couldn't quite make out the tone.

"Mm, it's all understandable with the four of you. Could be softer."

Is this what they thought? Is that what they thought about him all the time, regardless of the fact that he worked longer than some back in the Corporation? Fausto ignored Roland's reply, removing his hands from his forearms and clenching his teeth and fists tightly, digging painfully into his skin with his nails until blood oozed out. On the other hand, they were also approaching his location, only their voices were not heard, but the steps, one person, echoed in space. There was nowhere to run. He has led himself into this trap.

-"Child, you don't deserve this. What they're talking about... It hurts you, doesn't it? It's not your fault."-

He just nodded silently, barely holding on to this emotion and the feeling of pain in his palms. The mixture of fear and anger was explosive: Fausto wanted to answer these accusations, hurt them with words and unleash all the accumulated barbs, even if he deserved it. On the other hand, fear wanted him to shrink into a ball, invisible, hide, wait until this storm passed by and then slip through any gap that opened, any gap and hide as far as possible, to any tiny place, curl up into a ball and not come out until he can physically react to any stimulus, until he is mistaken for dead.

"How much longer can he hide? We searched almost everything!" There was a familiar annoyance in that tone that made the fear triple in intensity. No, please, not that tone, what did he do to deserve that?

The whole body was reduced by immobility from the sharply surging memories of childhood. The ones where the bridge of his nose was broken and after the hospital he had to hide to the best of his childish strength. Please let this be just a nightmare. The chest heaved rapidly in frequent and superficial breaths, and the air again began to lack. W-would he never run away from that tone? Why does it always happen like this? Does this mean that it will again be painful and bad?

They entered the library room where he was hiding. Still far from him, but already noticed. No, please no. Fausto's gaze was fixed only on Cosmo. Her gaze, as always, expressed little emotion, but now it was dominated by only irritation. Not anger, but irritation. It wouldn't hurt as much if he just avoided the blows, but his body was numb again from the other eyes, completely immersed in memories, all the way down to Leviathan. Then his numbness saved him, but the sight of so many mangled corpses that just recently were still breathing and laughing... But this is not Leviathan, there is nowhere to hide.

Noticing his condition, Adam was about to say something, but was stopped by a slightly tense Roland. Fausto did not take his eyes off Cosmo, trying to step back, but only bumping into a wall. Trying to defuse the situation, Roland began:

"Ugh, listen. You don't have a problems, you just have to explain something in front of your friends, nothing more. You're not in any trouble, bud."

Friends? It didn't feel like friends. Even his so-called buddies in Winslow were nothing more than acquaintances with whom he seemed to be a normal and more or less cool guy, just so as not to slide into the place of a victim of bullying, no more, not to be like Taylor Hebert, who then turned out to be supervillain Skitter, exposed in Arcadia by two heroes. Here...

Knowing that this situation was hopeless, he silently whispered:

"Please help me to be safe, please."

A gentle voice answered, still warm, and with a kind of sadness that was elusive for him, but at the same time with almost maternal love:

-“Then follow the Light, Fausto. May you find what you desire, one way or the other."-

And he did it.

Everything has changed. He didn't hear Adam's subsequent sigh, didn't see Cosmo's and Roland's widening eyes. It's like... Faded. Then there was the crackling of glass.

***

Adam was shocked. They couldn't have made thi... No, they were the ones who had driven Fau into a state of panic, and now he towered in front of them like an ice statue. His decent height for most librarians from the Social Sciences floor has grown even higher. No, they really shouldn't have done it. They shouldn't have tried to open other people's scars, because now instead of their curiosity and awkward attempt to help, Adama and Cosmo met the consequences. If Acacia or the other librarians come here right now without equipment, there could be nasty deaths.

His conspiracy theories simply helped to brighten up time and cope with anxiety, he did not want to cause harm, especially this. He didn't want Fau to be afraid of them. Perhaps all of them should have noticed their colleague's anxiety when talking about the past and taken it into the plans instead of approaching the problem from the bad side. Oh Wings, they weren't even really watching, they just wanted to come one at a time and it so happened that Fau spotted them at the wrong time.

But at that moment, he clearly saw Fau's fear in his not hidden under the bang eye, how he looked at only one point, as if into nowhere, concentrating in his thoughts ... What did they do? If he really distorted, does that mean the Fau won't be back and will be turned into a book forever? What will happen to their Floor? Can they be an effective team after what they've done? Then... If they had to fight and win, wouldn't the price be too high?

Now Fau towered over them, even when they were all at a distance, changes in his colleague were noticeable. What a second ago seemed like a crack on the bridge of the nose had grown and something came out from there, now, instead of the face, Fau now had a hexagonal crystal that turned from light blue to dark purple in especially shaded places. The crack remains. Fau's hair lengthened dramatically, its tousled ends floating, revealing first the scars on his colleague's face, and then the face-replacing crystal solid with finer cracks on the sides and bottom, replacing the scars on some visible scalp. The crack that they had heard earlier turned out to be scattered into hundreds of glass fragments of various shades of hands. On the shoulders now was something like a pile of broken fragments, growing in different directions right from under the skin, tearing through the T-shirt and soaking it with blood. These fragments either broke away from Fau's former hands and soared in the air, then settled back, forming a terrible likeness of a tree crown: transparent, light blue, dark blue, green, yellow, red, and even several orange and purple fragments of various shapes and sizes rustled in air, occasionally touching each other with an unpleasant sound. For some reason, the Fau's head ended up with goggles, like swimming goggles, but with deep dark blue shards of glass instead of normal lenses, too strange for a normal model, what were they even for?

They definitely shouldn't have pushed like that.

Cosmo, being more attentive, noticed something else: a red thread coming from the center of Fausto's chest, no, not red, dyed red. On the neck one could see a trace of compression by this thin and most likely sharp thread, and in some places the beige colors of the trachea and possibly bones could already be seen. The way the scars on visible skin grew grotesquely larger; how something separated from the eye socket a second before crystallization; how on his clothes a ball of threads became visible on his chest, the same red ones as on the neck, only more voluminous. And it seems that part of the glass from his hands began to merge into something, still floating in the air. Yes, it did not seem: part of the glass of the same colors began to form crystals, no, rather, figures similar to crystals. In the name of the Wings, what is all this supposed to mean? Why couldn't he use words and speak directly to them instead of squirming and dodging questions? Why couldn't everyone just answer honestly? It was so annoying...

Cosmo clenched her fists, preparing for battle and getting ready to equip the page. He will need to hammer in some common sense, as they did with Angela when she resonated with the Library on the lower floors, after which he will answer questions and there will be no more innuendo. She could only hope so. People couldn't just lie all the time, right? If they won't lie they won't hurt other feelings so much worse, right?

Roland tensed. It's... Seeing the Distortion phenomenon live was unpleasant. At one moment there was only one Fau, with an unpleasant crack on the face in the area of the most noticeable scar on the bridge of the nose, and a second later the sounds of changing alien flesh were heard and in front of them was Distortion. It was distortion—it wasn't like all the times Angela had resonated with the Library. There wasn't a whole floor shaking, there wasn't that cool whispering sensation in the back of his head, it just wasn't an instantaneous process. Yes, that would definitely be a problem, and Roland could only hope it wasn't his problem. Thank you, no, he's already fought enough without his self-imposed choice.

***Roland wondered if all these little librarians, along with the patron librarians, could be... Truly real people, not projections of dead people created from the Light by Angela. It almost made him feel sorry. Too bad it's not enough. His plan still needs to be carried out. Not now, but when he can... Roland won't stop. He knew it.***

***

Everyone prepared, if not for battle, then for readiness to escape and return with reinforcements. But... The distortion didn't attack. Fausto seemed to be unresponsive to anything. Perhaps it can be returned normally in another way?

The three looked at each other. Fausto still did not move, instead bowing his head to his chest, and remaining in that state. Cosmo wanted to come forward. Adam shook his head, wordlessly urging her not to do it so hastily. Cosmo seemed to agree with this, as far as the short and decisive nod could tell. Adam exhaled sharply and exchanged expressive glances with the others as he stepped forward, suppressing signs of hesitation. Now is not the time for his anxiety.

Fau reacted by raising his head sharply. The crystal surface was now looking straight at Adam, and he swore he could see his own reflection in that crystal. The Librarian stopped, and Fau didn't react.

"F-Fau, please tell us what we did wrong? I swear we didn't mean to put pressure on you like that, we didn't even want it to look like that to yo..."

His words were interrupted by a torrent of shrapnel that hit the spot where he had stood a second ago. Only his quick reaction saved Adam from serious injury. Fausto did not speak - he had no mouth. However, the words reverberated through everyone's heads, causing a slight throb in the back of the head and temples.

P҉l҉e҉a҉s҉e҉ ҉l҉e҉a҉v҉e҉.҉ ҉L҉e҉t҉ ҉m҉e҉ ҉s҉t҉a҉y҉ ҉w҉i҉t҉h҉ ҉t҉h҉e҉ ҉o҉t҉h҉e҉r҉s҉ ҉i҉n҉ ҉t҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉a҉t҉t҉a҉c҉k҉.

Fausto's "voice" seemed to echo from the surrounding space, both unnaturally high and startlingly low sounds were present in it, as if several people were speaking at the same time.

"What do you mean?" Roland tried to ask, but he and Cosmo had to dodge, although this time the pieces were moving... Faster?

L҉e҉a҉v҉e҉.҉.҉.҉ ҉L҉e҉t҉ ҉m҉e҉ ҉d҉i҉e҉ ҉i҉n҉ ҉t҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉a҉t҉t҉a҉c҉k҉.҉ ҉I҉t҉ ҉w҉o҉u҉l҉d҉ ҉b҉e҉ ҉b҉e҉t҉t҉e҉r҉ ҉i҉f҉ ҉I҉ ҉d҉i҉e҉d҉ ҉t҉h҉e҉r҉e҉ ҉a҉l҉o҉n҉e҉.

The tone was starting to hurt their heads. The three people looked at each other again. This seems to have affected Fau too much. It's like... He couldn't get out of the past.

Then... Roland nodded, stepping back... And getting no response. He quickly retired for reinforcements and possibly Angela.

Fausto made no move. He didn't even seem to be breathing, completely becoming a statue in his sorrow and memories. Only... Anyway, even in his inaction there was something wrong.

W҉h҉y҉ ҉d҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉l҉e҉a҉v҉e҉?҉ ҉E҉v҉e҉n҉ ҉i҉f҉ ҉I҉ ҉s҉u҉r҉v҉i҉v҉e҉,҉ ҉S҉l҉a҉u҉g҉h҉t҉e҉r҉h҉o҉u҉s҉e҉ ҉9҉ ҉w҉i҉l҉l҉ ҉b҉e҉ ҉h҉e҉r҉e҉ ҉s҉o҉o҉n҉.

The words of their former colleague made no sense. Both Adam and Cosmo braced themselves for another dodge when Adam asked the question:

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Predictably, another attack followed. And immediately after it, the second, stronger one, from which Cosmo, who did not expect such quick actions in her direction, could not evade. A splinter cut her cheek almost to the bone, she briefly gasped, reflexively backed away towards the exit. Fa... The Distortion laughed bitterly, causing the two's heads to throb in pain. But there was a note of pain in that laughter that they couldn't understand. Distortion's laughter was like the soft tinkle of glass: pleasant, but if you listened to it too long, it would suck you in painfully, forever immersing someone's gaze in a continuous mirror.

Y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉ ҉n҉o҉t҉ ҉k҉n҉o҉w҉?҉ ҉E҉v҉e҉r҉y҉o҉n҉e҉ ҉k҉n҉o҉w҉s҉ ҉b҉e҉c҉a҉u҉s҉e҉ ҉i҉t҉'҉s҉.҉.҉.҉ ҉W҉h҉o҉ ҉c҉a҉r҉e҉s҉.҉ ҉T҉h҉e҉y҉ ҉w҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉s҉p҉a҉r҉e҉ ҉a҉n҉y҉o҉n҉e҉ ҉a҉n҉y҉w҉a҉y҉.҉ ҉L҉e҉a҉v҉e҉ ҉m҉e҉ ҉b҉e҉f҉o҉r҉e҉ ҉i҉t҉'҉s҉ ҉t҉o҉o҉ ҉l҉a҉t҉e҉.҉ ҉N҉o҉,҉ ҉i҉t҉'҉s҉ ҉l҉a҉t҉e҉.҉ ҉Y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉d҉e҉s҉e҉r҉v҉e҉ ҉t҉h҉i҉s҉.

The way that Distortion spoke of it... It seemed to be unaware of what it was saying, lost in its own grief.

Adam, ready for new attacks, again asked what Fau was talking about, but there was no attack. As there was no answer. Fau froze again, only the hair fluttering in the non-existent wind proved that he hadn't become the full statue he had been before.

L҉e҉a҉v҉e҉.

One single word before something red oozed from the cracks in the crystal. Not blood, no, they were very familiar with blood. This liquid... It differed in appearance, although it was red. There was no characteristic odor, the liquid quickly rolled through the crystal before a light, too light for blood, drop fell onto the Distortion T-shirt.

An unfamiliar voice was heard, soft and enchanting, not like any person in the Library, or a person in general, could have:

"What's wrong, Fausto?"

What was that voice? Who said it? Who was it anyway?

The unfamiliar voice was neutral, but soft and gentle, reminiscent of a lost home. There were no notes by which it would be possible to determine whether this voice belonged to a man or a woman.

Cosmo reflexively turned her head towards the source of the sound, only to see an unfamiliar face: dark-skinned, with strange markings on both cheeks under the eyes, with white hair gathered in a low and long ponytail. The stranger's eyes were closed and there was a soft half smile on their face. The stranger stood behind her, not close enough to attack, and who knew what the human was up to. The stranger wore strange clothes, even by the standards of the City. Everything from a white and silver shirt with a long hem and wide sleeves at the ends, fastened with two top buttons and pants with a strange flare to what seemed absurdly massive black lace-up boots with high soles compared to the stranger’s height, it seemed strange. All this appealed to some primitive feelings inside Cosmo, the remnants of the genes of the ancestors of people screamed about danger. Only Adam did not seem to feel this sensation of trembling and small goosebumps crawling along the spine and small hairs standing on the back of the head, chills on the skin, the same whispers in the head as when trying to talk with F ... Distortion, but talking about what kind of a predator is watching you. And whether you survive depends only on the decision of this sentient predator. It could even be a Color unknown to both of them, such an aura did not come just like that. But it was different from the aura of Purple Tear or Red Mist... How were they supposed to deal with two problems with just the two of them? If only Adam had noticed this and stopped staring at the stranger's belly like that, and stopped looking at those six pack abs, if he was looking in that direction at all and not into the void, they were actually on the brink of battle.

The fragments flew past her and Adam only to attack the stranger, but they dodged: too fluid movement, which is more typical of either dancers ... Or people who have dedicated their lives to combat and weapons. The second option was really dangerous. How could a guest appear in the library without an invitation? And what in the name of Wings did he want here? She would have bristled, but the stranger's actions weren't hostile, and weren't even directed at her and Adam. The stranger only focused on the distortion and ignored them. Or so she thought.

F-fuck, why can't she move?! It will definitely cost her dearly, won't it? Come on, move at least a finger, break out of this hypnotized state before... Before... Even if the stranger's movements were like a strange dance. She is stronger than that, there is always logic on Cosmo's side, and she rarely betrayed her in contrast to the feelings and actions of other people, leaving her alone in tears. So why can't she move?

***

Adam seemed to be fascinated. Something in him was drawn to this stranger, this warm, homely aura, but Adam knew that this aura was not directed at him. Something in the form of this human was too graceful, as a large cat can be graceful, stretching in a warm place. Something about the stranger seemed unsuitable for the City, heavenly. Adam just couldn't find the right word for this feeling. Where could this person come from? What did they want to do with the Fau?

As soon as the swarm of shards flew past the evading stranger, Adam realized what was wrong: there was no wind in the room, but the hair and long hems of the stranger's shirt seemed to float in the air. Or was his vision simply deceiving him? But Fau's hair was also floating. Was it related to his distorted colleague?

The stranger chuckled at the attack: Adam could have sworn the chuckle was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard in his life, so sincere and echoing off the bookshelf walls. Adam shook his head. Something wasn't right.

"I guess you're out of sorts, aren't you? It's okay if you don't want to talk," half smile in keeping with the soft and almost... Parental? the tone of a stranger could surely make any person stop being angry. But... Fau barely reacted physically, remaining still and sending more fragments towards the stranger, this time splitting the glass and attacking the white-haired one from different directions in succession, who still dodged with amazing ease.

Part of the glass began to fuse into something... He didn't know what it was supposed to be, but this forming thing looked like it was Fau's full height now, which already looked creepy. Hah, he was not so frightened by the abnos of the HE and sometimes WAW levels as now he was frightened by the silent and distorted Fau.

The white-haired human avoided the attack again and again. It was like some kind of dance, not an evasion of possible death. Something on the verge of life and death, more poignant than what he could describe in all his years of life or a day working in the Lobotomy Corporation. Were all high rank spotters that strong? Was this stranger even a fixer?

Adam didn't know if Cosmo felt the same way, but he couldn't move, mesmerized by the stranger's dance-like movements. Fau was in no hurry to attack him or Cosmo while they were both frozen like that. Was Cosmo also motionless like him? Adam glanced briefly at his colleague, only to find her in the same frozen state as himself. It might be the worst decision of Adam's life, but he really didn't want to break that illusion, even with the possibility that because of their inaction, they might be killed here, even if it was only temporary.

G҉o҉ ҉a҉w҉a҉y҉.

Fau's words didn't seem to have the same effect on the stranger as they did on them. The white-haired one tilted their head to the side, playfully saying:

"Why? Is this what suits you? Do you really want this?"

Fau didn't respond. No sound could be heard, only the hair of distortion hovering as his only movement. But finally the pieces formed this something. Resembling a white porcelain hand with a light blue pattern at the top and turning into claws made of rich dark blue and transparent glass, sharp even for a fleeting glance, this hand was definitely dangerous. Only the stranger did not react to this. It seemed that the white-haired did not even feel a drop of danger from the Distortion, on the contrary, with each dodge, the stranger... Approached?

The "hand" of the distortion twitched upwards, fingers soared into the air to pull on something invisible for a moment, and now the two librarians could see many threads of various colors, for which the distortion was trying to pull, focusing on a single target.

Viridian green thread, a rope woven of dark blue and silver, scraps of bright orange with red spots, black twine with a strange tar-like liquid, pink silk fabric, golden threads, a chain of silver, as if burned and severely torn at the visible end - all of them were visible from the stranger's chest. But what did they mean? Sharp fingers tugged at the chain, pulling the white-haired one closer and sending a swarm of fragments at the target.

W҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉.҉.҉?҉ ҉H҉o҉w҉?

Perhaps in the emotionless voice of the Distortion sounded ... Fear? The distortion took a step back, slumping against the wall again, reflexively shrugging its shoulders. The stranger who noticed this clearly did something, otherwise there was no explanation why the stuck fragments were released and now hovered around the body of the Distortion again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." “Why did the stranger even apologize to the distortion?” What would it even give?!

Suddenly, the white-haired waved their hand and said something. Only no words were heard. As well as it was not audible the answer of the Distortion. Oh Wings. This will definitely be a problem.

***

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again, okay?" Alt tried to ask the question as gently as possible. He might have to lower his guard this time. Not that there were many entities that could harm him. The pain wasn't so bad. The pain couldn't have been worse than the time he'd been burned alive by his own flame. This is Fausto and they couldn't hurt him. Not in this condition.

Fausto stepped forward slightly, but did not attack.

W҉h҉y҉ ҉d҉i҉d҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉ ҉i҉t҉?

Fausto's voice was different. Not in the sense that he looked like his Cie... Falso Cielo, no. In front of Alt was a soul almost torn apart, capable of breaking from any touch, and this voice for them, practically representing the Wind and freedom ... It was a silent plea for the slightest help. Therefore, they limited the hearing of the witnesses, leaving them like that, preventing them from leaving or provoking Fausto. He could have let them pass out from lack of oxygen, but... Perhaps they softened and allowed the witnesses to live an extra hour. But if they were dear to Fausto, what then?

Alt involuntarily began to hum, answering Fausto's question. They hoped that he could hear the echoes of the music.

"I don't want to hurt you."

I'm falling through the hourglass

And I don't think I'll ever take it back

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb

Victim to the sand of time,

Falling through the horglass

The hourglass

They could speak words as much as he wanted, but sincerity was always only in the song. Let it always take time - Alt had plenty of that. Almost a millennium of existence has made it possible to rethink and understand so many things.

Cause that's what I can feel

P҉l҉e҉a҉s҉e҉ ҉d҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉l҉i҉e҉.

"Why do you want it to be a lie?" It was a simple question, but it bled liquid over the crystal that hid Fausto's head. Perhaps it was better that Alt was blind, otherwise they would not have seen, with ordinary eyes, few could understand it, that this salty red water is the cry of a wounded entity, all the tears that were not cried and the severity of the pain.

Fausto trembled. Invisible to the human eye, before sending out more floating glass shards in the hope of defending himself. Those threads that Alt could not see, but could feel - they were tied to Fausto as well. He could almost feel the quickening breath of the Distortion as they dodged again and again without attacking. No. They could not harm this Fausto, more Sky than the one who saved him years ago and raised him in a lie. No. He was almost like the members of the Alt's Famiglia —an equally precious gift. They would have loved to take this Fausto and introduce him to others - the way the little Alfie being ignored by their relatives, the way he later adopted William, Alfie's boyfriend, with his story. How he accepted everyone, letting his loyalty take root in everyone, vowing to protect them to the best of his ability. He couldn't hurt any of his lovely chicks, no matter how threatening he seemed when meeting William.

I'm falling through the hourglass

And I don't think I'll make it back

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb

Victim to the sand of time

I'm falling through the hourglass.

The hourglass.

Cause that's what I become

(What I become)

Now. Alt rushed forward with a sharp jerk, closing the distance between themselves and Fausto. But instead of attacking, they wrapped their arms around Distortion, letting go of their air defenses and feeling shrapnel pierce their back. It doesn't hurt that much, all their nerves are used to pain. They can heal it in less than half a minute.

"It's okay. I can't hurt you, Cielo." He could feel Fausto's trembling under his arms, they could almost feel the fear and his racing heart. - You're safe.

Salt water dripped onto his shirt. It doesn't matter, they can always wash or replace. Fausto did not respond to the hugs, so they slowly and gently, trying not to startle, stroked the distortion on the back, and then on the head. Again and again, not letting the hug loosen.

There was a door next to it. Intangible, but Alt could still feel the texture of wood soaked in salt and weathered by the ocean winds of Brockton Bay. Slowly, he got up and walked through that door, already knowing how to help.

Inside was a room that looked like a shelter for civilians. But instead of being peaceful, this room was flooded, and in some places floating corpses could be seen, obviously people who had been killed a little earlier. In the corner of the room, behind a pile of broken glass, curled up in a ball, was Fausto himself. He was wearing the civilian clothes he wore on the day of the attack, before things went awry. Fausto was sobbing—silently, barely breathing in and out—probably the first panic attack. A variety of threads twisted around him, but Alt could not see this, just as they could not see the environment, feeling only the icy sea water in their boots and bottom of the trousers.

Alt approached, slowly sitting down next to Fausto, trying not to touch the other at such a vulnerable moment.

"Fausto, please listen to me. I'll try to help you now. You don't mind if I touch you now, okay?"

Fausto barely moved, but he managed to give a barely perceptible nod. Alt gently placed one hand on Fausto's shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. The white-haired one started stroking the other's shoulder in circles.

"Listen to me. Try to breathe with me, okay? Inhale and one and stop, two, three, and four - exhale" - all this was said in a soft tone. The grounding warmth from Alt's hand and the slow pace seemed to calm Fausto enough to make his breathing rhythm more steady, but that was still not all.

"Can you name five things you see?" Fausto hesitated, his eyes fixed on the floor, as he tried to answer. His voice was hoarse, like he'd swallowed water before, and the ensuing panic attack didn't make things any better.

"Water, my legs, floor, shirt, sleeve." Each word was followed by a pause and a convulsive uneven breath, followed by a ragged exhalation.

"Can you say four things you hear?"

"Rustle, the sound of water, k..." Fausto coughed, water spilled out of his mouth before he slowly continued, "knock, your voice."

"Good. Three things you feel?" Alt continued to stroke Fausto, gradually moving to his back, rubbing wide circles on the other's back and shoulders.

"C-cold, wet... Warm" Fausto seemed to almost cling to comfort, but there was still something that hindered him.

"Well done. Two things you can smell?"

Fausto seemed thoughtful before taking a deep breath to the best of his ability and trying to answer.

"Salt, blood" - the last word was more important than all the others.

"Good. Can you tell me what you taste now?" Fausto finally looked up from the flooded floor, only to meet Alt's slightly parted eyes. This unusual, strange and slightly frightening green color of the eyes hinted at the obvious inhuman origin of the white-haired one, but instead of danger, Fausto felt only an approaching wave of peace. He said nothing.

"It's okay, take your time. We've got plenty of it."

Fausto tried to move closer - not some conscious action, but something that told him to do it, and the body did it involuntarily. Or tried. Fausto almost fell, but barely held on, grabbing onto Alt.

"S-salt," the answer was too quiet, still hoarse and broken.

"Very well," Alt moved closer, gently hugging Fausto, who began to tremble. Tears began to roll down Fausto's face, but this time it was not a panic attack, but relief. - Everything is fine. Take your time

Fausto couldn't even nod as he leaned against the other and felt warm (does a human body have to be so hot? Especially in such cold water? His intuition was silent, so Fausto just tried to enjoy such a vulnerable moment while he could. As if there was no one. As if he really was safe.)

Alt stepped back for a second, standing up and pulling Fau with him. Strangely, compared to him, the white-haired one seemed so small, barely shoulder-length apart from the soles of his boots. But this aura of comfort, at home, still persisted.

Alt quickly found a dry place and it was so strange.

"Can you tell me why you did it? You were hurt by such actions" - Alt's soft tone, no pressure, just a silent promise of acceptance. Is it? Why was he like this? Was it all true?

"Why are you doing this?" Fau looked down, barely accepting all these pleasant emotions and trying to turn the topic of conversation to something else. Why?

"Doing what?" Alt sounded genuinely perplexed. Fau tried to get the point across.

"Why are you saving me over and over again?"

"I don't know." - Such an answer made Fau not understanding look at the interlocutor.

"Wh-what do you mean?!" Another bout of coughing interrupted his thoughts.

Alt shrugged.

"I don't know why I'm doing this anymore. Guess I've grown attached to you." “F-Fair enough, Fausto thought.

Fausto almost drooped, but instead began slowly, with breaks and pauses, to tell his thoughts, his actions and mistakes, expecting at each pause a reprimand or a verbal attack (blow), but none of this followed. When he finally finished, Alt was silent for a second, causing Fau to tense up.

"It's okay. I don't judge your actions. Please don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you, ever."

It was as if a rock fell from Fau's chest and split into millions and millions of dust and debris. Only Alt hasn't finished yet.

"It's okay. Sometimes there are good days, and sometimes there are just bad days. It's normal that you don't understand others and that others don't understand you. How about trying to solve the problem less hastily next time, okay?" No pressure, but he felt guilt." About the voice - is this really what you would like if you were given a little more time?"

Fau was slow to respond. Would oblivion be what he wanted? Would the loss of his memory of his entire life be worth it? If he had time, would he make this decision? Slowly, as if realizing his feelings, Fau shook his head in denial. It wouldn't be what he wanted. It wouldn't be worth it. He... He really wanted to be close to his team, open up without judgment, and above all, not be afraid.

Alt smiled softly.

"It's all right, Fausto."

Fau hesitated before answering hesitantly:

"Please call me Fau. I like it much more and it's more familiar."

Alt hesitated, cocking his head to the side and closing his eyes before smiling again.

"Okay, Fau."

After a while, while they were like that, in pleasant silence (and Fau really enjoyed this consolation, even if he would not tell anyone about it for the rest of his life), when the environment itself changed from shelter to something resembling the dry floor of the Library, Alt nodded before finally saying.

"That's good. Now let's go. You looked too much like a hybrid between Shatterbird and Simurgh."

Fausto's eyes widened sharply. No, he would never! He wouldn't be like those monsters!

When the crackling of glass was heard, it was accompanied by Alta's soft laughter. And Fausto opened his eyes. Well, eye.

***

Cosmo and Adam looked at the sight in disbelief. This stranger not only managed not to be wounded for most of the battle, and not to damage Dist... Fau, and force him to return. The curtain of silence was lifted and they heard the crackling of glass as all the crystals and all the shards shattered and the Fau returned to normal. The stranger seemed a little wounded, but all these wounds healed before their eyes. The white-haired one still held Fau in their arms.

"Huh, what a mess. Guess I'm glad I'm not the one to clean it up."

Fau didn't answer, instead enjoying the pats on his back and head. A playful smirk appeared on the stranger's face.

"By the way, I guess it's time for me to go. Good luck with the explanations there."

"Yes. I would demand an explanation." Angela appeared, along with Roland and several other librarians, looking annoyed.

It also made both Adam and Cosmo flinch sharply, not to mention the sharply pale Fau.

It seemed that their colleague, who returned to normal, wanted to mimic the white wall nearby, but he did not succeed. Angela's gaze pinned him right at the crime scene. And this crime was now his existence.

The white-haired stranger was no more, as if they had ceased to exist. Oh. They all seem to be in serious trouble. Oh shit. In the name of the Wings...

Fausto could hear the vanishing whispers from the periphery before turning completely pale at the sight of the Library Headmistress herself.

"If you hear that lady's voice again, tell her your opinion directly. Good luck."

Angela seemed to look more and more annoyed with every second. Fausto muttered, thinking he was quiet:

"I wish I had been hit by a bus then."