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Chapter Text

Previously on Miraculous Guardians  Shell Game  and  Miraclebound...

"Tikki, Spots Off."

"Plagg, Claws In."

"MARINETTE IS LADYBUG?!"

"ADRIEN IS CHAT NOIR?!"

"Trixx, Let's Rest."

Was everyone he knew secretly a superhero?

"Nino Lahiffe knows Ladybug's true identity."

"Besides, I know who Ladybug is too."

"Nino. It's been a long time. Don't trust  anyone . Not even your friends. The evil is everywhere. Anyone  might  betray you.  I'll  contact  you again as soon as it's safe."

"I'm talking about my other brother. Nicholas. He's...alive. I need to find him."

"Nino, the Miraculous Temple was destroyed. There were no survivors."

"Nicholas is in America?"

"There is a new threat, one greater and more powerful than Hawkmoth. And he's looking for you."

"Me? Why me?"

"Welcome to New York. We are the Guardians of the American Miraclebox and we've been expecting you."

"MARINETTE, LOOK OUT!"

"Grimm seeks a power he cannot understand. He believes your brother may hold that power. The Miraclebound."

"But that's only a myth!"

"You seek answers. You've come to the right place. Welcome to the Temple of the Miraculous."

"I...think I have been here before..."

"PEGASUS, NOW!"

"VOYAGE!"

"Chris!"

"I renounce you of your miraculous."

"I'm sorry, Nino, but I can't come back. Not yet. The world isn't ready for Miraculouses. It's still too dangerous. Besides, they need me."

"The Guardians think it would be better for you to forget what you've seen here. Safer."

"No! I can't let you do this! I can't lose you again!"

"Goodbye, Nino."

But before that, another life was affected by the power of the Miraculous, and far far away  from  Paris, a second  tale  has  unraveled , never bold enough to come to light...until  now.

"Ah! What are you?"

"Greetings! I am Lorr! Kwami of Wisdom!"

"The kwami-of-the-what-who-now?"

"Basically, I'm the genie in the lamp."

"Well, thanks, but I don't particularly feel like Aladdin today, so if you'll excuse me..."

"You've already put on the Miraculous. We're bonded."

"You must be Lorr's knew chosen. Welcome to Tibet, young Guardian."

"Huh?"

"There's something wrong with the boxes! For years, the Chinese Miraclebox has lain dormant! It has awoken! Go to Paris,  find out what you can! We need to know about these new holders and whether or not they are a threat to our safety!"

"I can't do this."

"You won't be alone."

"I know, buddy. You're coming with me."

"No! I mean, you're actually not going to be alone! There are other holders in the city too!"

"I work alone."

"Ah, don't worry. They're harmless! A lot of hot air, no serious danger to you!"

"Who are you? How did you--no, stay right there! Don't make me throw another book at you!"

"Ah! Come on! Stop it! Lorr, you liar!" 

"Oh, great.  The fate of the world hangs in the balance and the lot of you want to sit around and talk about boys."

"Last I checked, you are a boy."

"Ohhhh, someone's got a cruuuuussshhh!"

"I do not!"

"The Miraculous Eight! Heroes of the world!"

"You make us sound like some kind of DC ripoff."

"We're running around as animal-themed superheroes, mi amiga. That's kinda what we are."

"RUN!"

"Heroes. The world's last remaining crutch of hope and justice, the ones they so foolishly believe can save them from themselves. But the truth is, I have seen the real evils of this planet, and let me tell you, children, you're fighting for the wrong side."

"We'll see about that!"

"Look out! It's coming down!"

"NICHOLAS!"

I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

Almost 20 years ago...

The ruins had been deserted for hundreds of years.

That was why they were called ruins and that was all they remained to be, a simple reminder of the past, of a world before machines and technology ruled the planet. These walls had seen generations upon generations of rulers, conquers, kings, and slaves walk amid their halls. They knew the stories of old, how knights had fought valiantly for their kingdoms, had laid down their lives seeking wealth and power--and the key to immortality.

But those days were long gone and the world had moved on from such times. Valor had faded to stories and stories to legends. There was no need for the tales now that the planet had new heroes, a new source of inspiration, a new direction. Wealth and power were to be used to better the world and with that came great responsibility, a responsibility the human race was not yet ready to wield.

And so the land lay barren, forgotten by time and forged by wind and waves, buried beneath centuries of history and age, dormant.

Resting.

Waiting.

Watching.

Over time, the land grew to shield the past from the rest of the world; trees sprouted through the heart of the foundation and ivy climbed the pillars, shrouding all secrets deep inside. A peace befell the forest, serene and unbroken, as time passed and everything disappeared into a fairytale, an old wive's tale that the entire world had long forgotten.

Well, almost the entire world.

The roar of backfiring exhausts shattered the calm and sent a multitude of birds screeching for cover. Animals of all kinds fled from the imposing noise and the thick tires crashing mercilessly through the trees around them. The vehicle, once green, now splattered with what one could only hope was mud, trampled through the woodland and its passengers all braced themselves for a sharp dip in and out of a running creek, particularly the small boy who was clinging desperately to the overhead handles as though his life depended on it as his skinny four-foot-tall frame was bounced and jostled and thrown in every direction imaginable.

"Father!" he cried out over another particularly loud explosion, but the man in the driver's seat didn't even turn his head, his eyes fixated on the road before him. The boy whimpered and curled up in his seat, bracing himself with his head between his knees and a hand out to hold himself steady against the rough terrain. "Father! Please stop! It hurts!"

"Not now!" snapped a rough tone that made the boy flinch and recoil even further inward. "We're so close now! Can't you feel it? We're almost there!"

But the child did not understand. He could only hold his breath and pray for this nightmare to end soon. He wasn't sure how much more of this jostling he could take. He wished he could have stayed home, in his warm bed, with his warm blanket and his baby sister and their three cats. That would have been so much nicer than being dragged out to this abandoned place--wherever they were.

Halfway between the edge of the world and nowhere, if he had to hazard a guess.

Not that that made him feel any better. It was still far away and he was still all alone in the back of the car and the vehicle was far from comfortable. Whatever his father was so intent on getting, couldn't he have accomplished it without him?

This was no place for a four-year-old!

Why could he see that when nobody else could?

Shaking and miserable, he carefully heaved himself into a sitting position and settled for staring out the window at the forest as it whizzed past. Glowing eyes watched him from the shadows, glinting momentarily as the high beams struck them only to vanish into the darkness moments later. They seemed to be warning him of danger, begging him to turn back, to go back to the city where he belonged.

How badly he wished he could.

I want to go back! he whispered silently to the creatures of the night. I do! Please! Let me go home! I don't want to be here!

Darkness chittered disapproval over the entire party and when he found no immediate rescue, he flopped back into his seat with a huff--just in time to jolt over another large pothole. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning deathly white as he fought to remain upright. How much farther? How much more was he going to be forced to go through just to appease his father's insane endeavors? A mythical land of power and eternal wisdom? Even at his young age, he knew how unlikely that kind of place would be. Call it his practical upbringing, but he did not believe any of that nonsense and he did not understand why his father would, or why he could be forced to come along as well.

He decided it was unavoidable. His father was a treasure hunter. His grandfather had been a thrill-seeker. It ran in the family, so naturally, it would be natural for him to be pulled into the magical whirlwind of insanity that gripped the generations before.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy any of it. He didn't. He was cold, he was wet, and he just wanted his seat on the couch in front of a crackling fire with his mother's arms squeezed tightly around him and his little sister resting her head on his shoulder just like always.

Why couldn't he be doing that instead of this? That sounded nice, pleasant, and precisely what a young child should be doing on Christmas Eve! Not trekking through an uncharted jungle in search of some kind of fountain that probably didn't even exist!

Did he mention that he was four?

Four?!

This was madness! This was utter insanity! He'd had enough and he wanted out! He wanted out right now and--

Even as he was struggling to formulate the words to express his demands, the vehicle suddenly came to a grinding stop, hard enough to knock the boy from his seat with a yelp. As he was pulling himself back up, doors slammed shut with enough power to rock the entire thing.

"Boy! Hurry up! Get out of the car!"

Trembling, the boy readjusted his far-too-large lenses and wiped the sweat from his forehead before reaching for the door handle and all but tumbling out onto the slick grass. Feeling his father's disapproving scowl burning into his back, he quickly scrambled back to his feet, tugging his backpack further up onto his shoulders and letting his gaze fall to the earth. Rain drizzled firmly against his head and, miserable, he yanked his hood over his head, wringing his bangs with a sigh.

Footsteps crunched over through the thick foliage and dark boots came to a halt in front of the boy's father and he glanced up cautiously to the epigrapher bundled in three different ponchos, looking, if it was possible, even more disgruntled than the rest of them. 

"Did you find it?" his father snapped. The boy jumped, nearly dropping his glasses into the mud and sniffling anxiously. 

"Right this way, sir!"

And with a groan from the boy, the group was off, pushing their way through the overbrush and moving swiftly away from the vehicle. From safety. 

They were going the wrong direction.

"Father--" the boy began to protest, only for a tight hand to seize his arm and jerk him forward so quickly that he nearly stumbled over a loose root, earning a displeased hiss from his father.

"Keep up! Pick up your feet! We're almost there! Come on!"

Those words would have meant a lot more had they not been barked about three decimals too loudly for his sensitive ears. He cringed but hastened to obey, practically running to keep pace now as the adults pushed aside several large branches, all of which promptly reached out to smack him in the face with their long tentacles of evil. 

This place was bad. It felt all wrong. Why hadn't the grown-ups listened to the animals in the woods? Why oh why did they have to come here? 

Why couldn't they have just listened?

"There it is, sir! Just as we said! Isn't it magnificent?"

At this, the boy briefly glanced up, squinting against the blaring sunlight to just barely make out the rough outline of a thick structure up ahead amid a ravine. It looked a lot like one of his play-castles back at home. Somehow he doubted little plastic toy knights were going to lower the drawbridge and welcome them inside for a feast and a double-helping of turkey. 

This place was just so bad on so many levels.

Even the air felt off. It was never a good thing when the air felt bad.

Nevertheless, they continued, carefully making their way down the steep incline toward the abandoned fortress. Nothing stirred at their movements, not even when he poorly misstepped and nearly went tumbling all the way down and his father made no movement to try and catch him. He shook that off, adjusting his little jacket once again and steeling himself as the adults reached the bottom of the hill first and immediately started toward the structure, not giving a care in the world to the eyes watching them from the shadows.

He wondered if he was the only one who could see them.

"Look at the writing here, sir!" the epigrapher spoke again, his voice cracking with anticipation as he knelt down in front of the solid (and very closed) doors and ran a hand over some kind of lettering. "It appears to be some sort of ancient language! I can't quite make it out!"

"Out of my way," the father huffed, stepping up now and roughly pushing the man aside to glare at the words as though hoping to frighten them into submission. "What sort of mockery is this?" he snapped. "I've never seen this kind of writing in my life!"

He does not see because he does not understand.

The boy blinked as the words formulated through his brain. What? Did he think that? No, that didn't make sense. He didn't understand where the thought had come from. 

But you, you are different than he. Step forward, young chosen. Let wisdom be the light to your path. Illuminate the darkness and let them see.

Swallowing hard, not sure what propelled him onward, the boy carefully squeezed past his father who was already turning furiously on his assistant to peer at the writing, unsure what he was supposed to be able to do considering he could not read his own language yet.

But that didn't seem to matter here, for the words seemed to fill his brain, translating into a way he could understand, just for him and nobody else.

Open wide the gates of the traveler's heart,  lest  the power sought falter  from  the  start .

A Jumanji riddle. Perfect. 

It's not that difficult! chirped the voice inside his head once again, sounding a little like it was laughing at him. It just means to be open to new ideas! Like pushing instead of pulling!

And suddenly it made sense! It was a simple logic puzzle! It wasn't anything difficult or challenging like his father was anticipating! It was so simple he could figure it out.

"I don't believe this!" his father was shouting. "After coming all this way, you mean to tell me this is it? This is all you can do? Unacceptable!"

Quickly! There is  another  way  inside ! We must hurry before the loud creatures complete their spat!

The boy gritted his teeth and carefully ran a hand across the cement wall to steady himself. It was official. There was someone out there talking to him.

Brilliant observation, Da Vinci.

"Who?" he whispered, earning a quick sharp glance from his father. "My name is--"

No time!  Long story. Tell you all about it later! Hurry!

His grip tightened. "Which way do I go?"

Around  back! Look for the bricks  that  seem out of line. Push the one on your left. You  know  your  lefts  and rights, correct?

"Of course, I know them! I'm four."

Well, pardon me then. I was  not   aware .

The voice sounded slightly irritated as the boy scrambled to obey, cautiously inching his way away from his father who continued his argument without a second glance.

Almost there. Just a little further. So close! the voice egged him on as he broke into a run, skidding around the corner and stopping to catch his breath.

All right! Now, look at  the  bricks!  Pull   out the  left one!

He obeyed, frowning as he spotted the uneven pattern and stood up on his tiptoes to reach the correct brick, grasping and tugging it as hard as he could. The wall responded with a tremendous groan, swinging open to reveal a secret passage, dark but with light seeping through the cracks.

The boy whimpered, taking a step away. No dark. No dark. It's too scary. Monsters.

It's all right, the voice urged. There are no monsters, I promise. I need your help. You're the only one who can do it. Please.

"Daddy told me not to talk to strangers."

Ah, yes, a wise life lesson. However,  I  think that  only  applies to  people  you don't  know . And we know you. You just don't  know   it  yet!

"I'm not sure..."

Think of me as your pet. Do you have a pet? Yes, you do. Cats. Ugh. Messy creatures. Anyway, I digress. I am like your pet, okay? It's okay to talk to me. I won't hurt you.

"But my cats don't talk back."

Okay, that's fair. Fair. You're a smart kid, you know that?

"I know."

A faint sound rang through his ears. It was possibly laughter, though what the voice found so amusing was lost on him. There was a moment of stillness following where the boy could hear his father winding down. He only had a few moments before his dissertation was discovered and the shouting began again, this time at him.

So, what are you going to do? the voice prodded. 

He took a deep breath and pushed his legs forward, forcing himself to duck into the hole. He shivered as cobwebs slid across his jacket and brushed over his hands and he forced back another whimper. Be brave, he chanted to himself as he crawled into the dark. Be brave. His father would not want him to do this. He would be furious. But his father was also an explorer. He understood the concept of taking risks. And this was a risk the boy felt was worth taking.

How very valiant of you. 

He ignored this, scuffing his knees on the hard cement as he pushed himself the rest of the way through and emerged into a great hall, brightly lit with beams of sunshine from the open skylights--which he found odd considering his jacket was still soaking wet and hadn't it just been raining?

You've noticed. Good. You're observant too.

"What am I doing here?" the boy demanded. "What do I do now?"

You see that large slab of concrete that looks like a table?

He did.

Go to it. There is something there I want you to see.

"Spiders?"

No spiders. Trust me. 

He gulped, carefully shuffling over to the described box and heaving himself up on his arms to peer at its contents. No monsters jumped out of the shadows at him. He couldn't hear his father from here either. Everything was peaceful. He quite enjoyed it. 

Serenity is a gift. It is to be used wisely.  However, that is not all. Look closely at the table. What do you see?

The boy frowned, adjusting his lenses once more as he stared down at what the voice was referring to.

Two small boxes, lying side by side, untouched and coated with dust. 

This was it? Years of his father searching for a solution to eternal life and the results were two tiny hexagons? Unbelievable.

They are not just shapes!

The voice rose urgently now and the boy winced slightly, his eyes shooting to his surroundings for the source of the tone. Seeing no one, he swallowed hard and focused once more on the boxes. "What's so special about them?" he whispered.

They are the sources of incredible powers. Of mighty warriors destined to protect and defend our land. 

"So why are they here?"

Long ago, a terrible fight broke out. These boxes, which contain a dark power that both sides wished to control, were hidden away to protect them from those who would use them for evil. But the time for hiding is over. We must find successors who are worthy enough to wield these powers.

"Cool." The boy reached down and plucked one of the boxes from the ring. The darker brown one with intricate swirls and spikes etched on top. The sunlight seemed to make the marking gleam and dance like fire.

You have been chosen to protect them. Reach out now. Take them with you. Guard them...and when the time is right, give them to those you deem worthy. Above all, never ever use them for your own gain. Can we trust you with this?

A grin wider than the Seine spread across the child's face as he reached for the other box, nodding quickly to whatever unseen force was voicing this. "Uh, huh!" He pocketed one--the lighter-shaded one--and held the darker one up to the light. He fingered the latch, slowly turning the knob and preparing to open it--

"LET'S PACK IT UP! NOTHING TO SEE HERE! LET'S GO!"

His father's voice rang out through the stillness. Jolted back into reality, the boy stuffed the other box into his pocket and hastily ran for the exit, scrambling back through and pushing the secret door shut just before his father came storming around the corner, looking enraged.

"THERE you are! WHERE have you BEEN?" Before the boy could respond, the man had already taken him by the arm and was pulling him back toward the car, all the while raging under his breath. "This trip has been a complete waste of time and money! There was nothing here at all! Ancient ruins, my foot! Probably just some kind of tourist stunt for the locals! Unbelievable!"

And the boy sat once more in the backseat of the vehicle, fingering the large lumps in his pockets curiously and wondering what kind of magic they contained and why he was being allowed to take them with him.

This answer, along with hundreds of others, would not come to him until years later, after a series of shouting, slamming doors, and hatred all around, when the boy, who had long grown into a man, would throw himself down onto his bed and stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of an engine revving to life and knowing that his father was leaving once again. 

He groaned and rolled over to punch his pillow furiously--

--and then stopped when he caught sight of the boxes, having forgotten he'd set them on his bedside all those years before. All the memories flooded back to him like a whirlwind and he heaved himself into a sitting position, taking one--the one he'd always favored--and turning it over and over in his hands pondering, as he had done a thousand times before; why him?

He'd waited a very long time for answers that had never come. Perhaps now it was time to take matters into his own hands.

He was ready now.

So, taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and popped open the lid. 

A blinding flash of red and yellow light flooded his closed eyelids and when he slowly cracked them open, he nearly screamed at the sight of what was in front of him.

A dragon.

There was a dragon in his room!

A living, breathing, growling dragon!

"Greetings," it spoke, golden-brown eyes gleaming curiously as his dark red and black tail swished back and forth and his wings, curled up at his side, shivered slightly. "My name is Trekk, Kwami of Vengance, and you must be my new chosen."

The boy grinned, sitting back, grabbing the pair of gloves from the box and tossing the box over his shoulder carelessly because there was a real-life dragon in his bedroom talking to him. "Hello, Trekk," he replied, forcing his voice to be as calm and collected as possible. He needed to come across as competent. It was the only way to get what he wanted. His father had taught him that--that was about all his father had taught him, actually. "I am Milo Astor, but you can call me Grimm."

The dragon blinked. "I see. And what is it you wish, now that you have awoken me from my slumber?"

Now, this was what he'd been waiting to hear. The smile grew even bolder as he ran a hand through his hair and then firmly jerked the gloves on. "I want you to help me get revenge on my father--and every other narcissistic, egotistical millionaire on this pathetic dirt rock."

"Are you sure you don't want to start with something a little smaller?" the dragon suggested warily. "Maybe a robbery or a pickpocket? You know, just to get warmed up?"

"No. I want my father to see what he's done to me--what he's made me into! I want to watch him suffer just as he caused me to suffer!"

"Oh my. Daring today, aren't we? Skipping the rehearsal and going straight to the finale!"

Grimm ignored him, already standing up and beginning to cross his room. The kwami's gaze followed him slowly. "Of course, this is too big a job for just the two of us," he muttered, almost half to himself. "We're going to need help." 

His eyes drifted across to the second box, lying dormant beside his alarm clock, and then over to the poster of the world hanging just about the headboard of his bed and the star stamped right into the heart of one of the biggest cities in the world.

Paris, France.

"And I know just where to get it."

Chapter Text

"...And this statue was brought to us from very far away. Hidden deep within one of the pyramids of Egypt, to be exact! Though its exact origins are not yet known, this piece remains one of our finest on exhibit!"

Nicholas breathed heavily through his nose, tapping his pencil to his clipboard absentmindedly, eyeing the museum director as his college class was led through the play-by-play of the Egyptian Conquests, their eyes wide and focus fully captured by the perfect atrocity that was the bust like hypnotized zombies or cattle being led to the slaughter. They were so clueless to the obviousness that he could very clearly see--and he wasn't even looking.

It was a fake. That was easy to tell by the slight off-colored markings lining the hair and chin. A clever cover-up for hasty work done incorrectly. A good copy, but a copy nevertheless. Even so, his schoolmates continued to swarm around it, admiring its beauty, a shimmering veil of illusion that fooled them all. Every one of them. Except for him.

He went back to studying his blank piece of paper; a report long overdue that he had simply continued to put off with very little real intent to complete, even if it did cost him a grade. Who really cared about this stuff anyway? History, he understood. Learn from the past to avoid making the same mistakes again. He got that. That reasoning was sound logic. Ancient Egyptian lore, however, was far from the same.

Bored.

He was so bored.

His pencil tapped quicker, the rhythm pulling through the stillness and unfurling like a score of music before his eyes. One-two. One-two-three-four. One-two. One. Two. Three. Four. The eraser quietly set the beat and the shuffling of the passerby's mixed to flow in a semi-harmonious way.

On beat. Offbeat. On. Off, two, three, four.

Everything swirled together into one massive montage of sound and melody. He closed his eyes, letting his surroundings carry him away from reality--from the tour guide's insistent, never-ending drone of absolute boredom--a drone that told him he'd given this same lecture about fifty times already that day. Also, by his bed-ragged appearance, the curator was already running late. Perhaps his shift had already ended but he had been asked to stay over and pull one last tour before retiring to his residence for the night. His apartment meanwhile, was being completely renovated. That much Nicholas could reason by the small, not greatly noticeable specks of blue and white paint dusting his coat, possibly an accidental brush against the new wall on his way out the door that morning combined with the anxious crying of one--no, two--children under the age of ten, given the way he handled his bulging pocket where he most likely kept his phone on vibrate in case of an emergency and he was forced to rush home to care for the toddlers.

It was quite an effective means of escape, Nicholas decided, as he sat back on the metal bench and rested his hands on his headphones, curved and wrapped securely around his neck, already pumping the unheard music through his brain. And it was smart too. No employer would deny their employee leave if their child needed assistance. He just wondered how much longer this charade would last.

"And if you all would just follow me down this way, I'll show you our most fascinating piece of Greek architecture!"

Oh, joy. More pottery. Like that's exciting to anybody.

"That means you as well, Mr. Lahiffe!" spoke another voice, sharply enough to get a rise from the teen. "You must keep up with the rest of the group or you'll be left behind!"

Go ahead then. Leave me. It's not like I can't find my way home on my own.

Nicholas sighed again, opening his eyes and slowly getting to his feet, tucking his clipboard under his arm and swinging his tattered backpack over his shoulders, scowling darkly at his classmates as they ogled at him as he shuffled over tiredly. His professor--a stern woman with wild purple hair and glasses that made her look ancient--peered at him with a disdainful frown as he passed. He shrugged her disapproval off and only trudged after the rest of his class, fully accustomed to her judgemental glares. He'd earned them every day since he'd begun college and he'd expect nothing less from her at this point.

Mr. Lahiffe! You didn't turn in your homework on time! Disappointed scowl.

Mr. Lahiffe, where is your test paper? And don't say your dog ate it! Disappointed scowl.

Nicholas! How many times must I tell you not to listen to your music during class? This is a classroom, not a concert hall! Detention! Disappointed scowl times a million.

So, she didn't like him too much. She thought he was the troublemaker and she wasn't wrong. It didn't bother him. Maybe it should have. His parents said he was smart and that if he just applied himself, he could make something great for himself. He wasn't sure, but he was pretty much going to guess flunking out of school and becoming a music star wasn't exactly at the top of their Nicholas-Is-Our-Shining-Achievement list.

They'd have an easier time being proud of the dog. And Dozer was only six months old.

Quietly, he slunk into the next hall behind the last of the students, aware of Ms. Mendeleiev moving off to the side to monitor the rest of the class. Her gaze fully diverted from him, he spotted his chance, carefully slipping away from the end of the line to wonder the enlarged hall as the tour guide began his recitations once again.

"Now, this piece of pottery came from an old vase during the fourteenth century! As you can see from the intricate designs, the artist who created this was both wise and practical with the strokes of his or her brush and each painting tells a story, a legend or a myth, passed down from generation to generation. Painting on these vases was a form of keeping the stories alive and as accurate as they could be as time went on!"

And that's all they are, Nicholas thought as his eyes drifted to an abstract painting that vaguely reminded him of the ocean. Legends and myths. There isn't a lick of truth in any of them. They are fairytales intended to keep the children in line and too afraid to think for themselves because they feared being overthrown. Talk about a utopia.

He wandered further, his attention sliding from the abstract to the geometrical—a glass box designed with several various shapes cut into its surface and a number of sheets of paper scattered throughout, obvious cutouts of newspapers as certain words were visible in a print that matched the city's chronicle perfectly. Dark. Sunlight. Overflowing. Majesty.

An interesting statement, very unlike the rest of the art in the hall. He was unsure exactly what the artist had been intending to say with it, but it was a fascinating piece nevertheless. Much more so than the flat old pottery that the tour guide was so enthusiastic about. Curious, he paused his impatient movements and knelt down to read more about it on the panel.

Glass House. Anonymous. Received as a gift from the benefactors of a charity auction in the late 1800s. Source: unknown.

Nicholas made a mental note to look up more on it later, once he wasn't being hounded by his professor to pay attention more in class (and field trips).

Speaking of which, the anticipated ringing of a cell suddenly drew his attention back to the guide who was struggling not to look relieved as he fished through his coat for his mobile. "Excuse me," he mumbled, bringing the phone to his ear and turning away from the group. "Emergency. One moment."

Called it. 

Smirking at his success, Nicholas carefully began to work his way back across the room, keeping his gaze low and blending perfectly into the dissatisfied crowd as the expression on the tour guide's face grew more and more impatient by the moment. Nick estimated they had a minute and a half before--

"I'm sorry," the man spoke suddenly, snapping his phone shut and shoving it forcibly into his pocket. "But that's going to have to be the end of our tour for today. I'm sorry!" he said again over the disappointed groans (and Nicholas's far too exaggerated attempt to blend) of the students. "We can pick this up another time, yes?" He glanced pleadingly at their professor who looked very much like she wanted to argue with him, her mouth already moving to spiel a protest. However, with an extreme amount of dignity uncharacteristic of her, she managed to reign in her words and merely nodded stiffly. 

"Very well. We can continue our tour later." Her words sounded hollow and ungenuine, but fortunately, she protested no further, choosing instead to begin rounding up the stragglers and bringing them back to the group. "Come along, children. The bus is this way. Hurry now. Keep up. We must be getting back."

Nicholas stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, sourly letting himself be bumped and jostled by the onslaught, shuffling his feet and intentionally falling toward the back of the group where, perhaps, he would be less noticeable.

Somehow, he doubted it.

"Now, don't forget!" their professor screamed as they all piled back onto the bus and all but ran to their seats to get out of range of a haphazardly-waved clipboard, "Your research is to be typed up into a three-page essay, double-spaced, and it is due next Monday! You have the entire weekend to work on it so there should be no trouble!" 

The glint in her eyes almost dared someone to make an excuse or be tardy with their work.

Nicholas felt like that statement was most likely directed solely on him but he steeled himself from the reprieve and sunk into an open window seat, vaguely aware of how the other students, who were all swarming to find seats around him, abruptly twisted away from the vacant spot beside him, almost as though he carried some kind of contagious disease.

He didn't care. So what if the other students didn't like him? He wasn't in school to make friends. He was there to learn. Period. End of story. Alnihaya as his parents would say. There wasn't time for friendship or any of that lovey-dovey teenage drama he heard so much about. He had far too many responsibilities to get caught up in something so trifle as loyalty. A one-man show was his favorite way to describe himself. A rogue was how others saw him and that was okay. He didn't want their affections. He didn't need them.

Tired of listening to Ms. Mendeleiev go on about how terrible a student he was and why on earth he could possibly be failing his classes, he sighed, pulling the brim of his cap lower and slinging his headphones (a gift from his little brother for his birthday, though he knew perfectly well Nino was too young to even know what headphones were) over his head. They immediately canceled out of the noise, a pleasure he was greatly thankful for. 

He flicked through his playlists absentmindedly. Someone kicked the back of his chair as the bus began to roll out of the parking lot and he sighed again, dissatisfied with his song choice and hastily swiping to the next one; an upbeat rap/rock mix. The dubstep hit hard and he settled back, letting the beat sweep him away from reality. 

Unfortunately, that new reality did not last nearly long enough.

Even through his music, he could sense the stares radiating from the other passengers and he forced himself not to meet their gazes. The unsaid jeers were already there, unspoken only due to Ms. Mendeleiev's close proximity. Loner. Weirdo. Freak. Outcast. They were all parts of an old tune he'd heard a hundred times before. In their eyes, he wasn't like them. An 'ajnabiun. A stranger. 

He was sure his broken French didn't help his position, and although he was excellent at understanding it when it was spoken, even after four years of living in Paris, he still struggled to form a whole sentence without any Arabic slipping past. That was another thing that distanced him from the other students. They couldn't understand him, ergo they attempted to avoid him. 

And it would be a lie if he were to say that that didn't bother him just a little.

He understood where they were coming from. He was sure if a Parisian had shown up in his old school back in Morocco, he would have been wary at first as well. But four years seemed just a little extreme to him. 

Just a little.

The bus pulled into the school not long after and he was one of the first to disembark, clinging to his bookbag tightly as his classmates once again swarmed him, calling out end-of-the-week farewells to their friends and heading off in separate directions. Waiting until the sidewalk was clear, Nicholas carefully crossed over to the stairs of the school and selected a thin board from behind the pedestals, the familiarity of it sending small relief through him and he threw it down, already thinking about the plans he and his family had made for the weekend. It was Nino's birthday soon and his father had decided to take them all out for ice cream (well, all except for his mother, who was very pregnant and probably should not be indulging in sweets). 

Nicholas could already taste the raspberry chocolate chunk (with extra chocolate and strawberry syrup on top!).

Already imagining the cold sweetness on his tongue, he took off down the road, absentmindedly keeping pace and swerving in and out of the pedestrians as the bass drummed in his ears. He narrowly dodged an oncoming carriage, earning himself a startled exclamation from the mother, to which he quickly shouted an "Asf!" and then hastily corrected himself.

"Pardon!" 

He glanced over his shoulder to check and make sure the woman wasn't mad--

--and slammed full force into a solid brick wall.

If a brick wall could let out a cry of surprise and fall down on top of him and send both of them crashing to the pavement.

"Pardon! Pardon!" Nicholas gasped, the first to right himself, sitting up and grabbing his skateboard before it could roll away under the trampling feet of the unbothered crowds. "Je..uh..." He scrambled for the right words. "Je suis vraiment désolé!"

"It's all right," grunted the other person, a boy possibly a year or two older than him, as he too slowly began to sit up. His French was unnatural also, Nicholas noted, but holding a hint of a different accent entirely. American, if he had to take a guess. He knew British English--well, some--and this was pretty similar. "It's my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Nicholas watched warily as the boy cautiously got to his feet, dusting off his fancy American-brand clothes, and eyed his board curiously. "Nice wheels," the teen commented, this time in English. 

"Uh...thank you?" Nicholas tried, recalling the little of this boy's language he'd heard from tourists. "Um...I...I don't know...much English..."

The teen grinned. "That's okay," he said, transitioning over to French. "I'm terrible at languages. You'd be amazed how many pocket translators I have."

Nicholas only caught about half of that, but it was enough to tell that this boy wasn't mad at him or afraid of him and he didn't immediately run away upon sight. It felt rather--odd--to be able to talk to someone (well, understand might have been the better word) his own age without any of those. 

"Are you okay?" the boy went on, adjusting his lenses and frowning slightly as Nicholas bent to get his board. 

"Fine," Nicholas answered. "Sorry again. I really didn't mean to hit you."

"Water under the bridge," the blond laughed, waving him off with a hand. "You're pretty good on that board, you know! You'll have to teach me sometime! Pay me back for nearly running me over with it, all right?"

"Deal," Nicholas promised, scooping his hat off the sidewalk and gingerly setting it back over his unkempt hair. 

"Well, I have to get going. I'm late already. But maybe I'll see you around then?" The teen stood up and shot him a small grin.

"Yeah, see you," Nicholas responded as the boy turned and started off down the sidewalk away from him. His gaze drifted from the blond down to his board, now slightly scuffed from the tumble, and his hands immediately went to his headphones, now dangling limply around his neck, not busted, but one end coming loose. He'd have to adjust them with some glue later. No biggie. It would be an easy fix.

If he could explain to his parents how it had happened in the first place.

Setting the board down and preparing to start home once more, he paused momentarily with one foot on the board and the other on the curb, to glance over his shoulder for the boy amongst the crowd, realizing he had never caught his name and had no idea how he was supposed to pay him back or teach him how to skate.

But it did him no good.

The street was empty. Even further down the road, there was no sign of the light-haired teen weaving in and out of the crowd, though Nicholas knew there were no alleys or bystreets between him and the school.

The boy was gone.

He'd vanished.

Almost as if he had never been there at all.

Chapter Text

"Al'umu! Ab! I'm home!" Nicholas called, twisting the key into the rusty lock and heaving the door open with his shoulder. The old oak gave under his weight and swung open, nearly taking him with it, and he barely had time to step foot into his living room before the incurable hurricane that was his brother came whooshing down the hall, over the furniture, and around a potted aloe, to wrap himself firmly around the first part of Nicholas he could reach--that being his legs--and squeezing tightly.

"Ah! Akhi!" Nicholas exclaimed, the sudden explosion of weight throwing him slightly off balance. His arms pinwheeled backwards and he grabbed the nearest wall to steady himself, already chuckling at the innocent brown eyes peering up at him. "Kalimati! You're going to kill me one of these days!" he laughed, kneeling down to ruffle his sibling's hair to show him he wasn't actually upset. "How's my favorite little brother been today? Behaving himself, I hope?"

"I'm only little brother," Nino retorted with an indignant huff, stepping away and crossing his arms to pout.

At this, Nicholas grinned, slowly standing up as his brother finally let go. The only one for right now, he thought. But possibly not for much longer, his mind quickly flashed as he heard the footsteps from the kitchen and, scooping Nino into his arms and dangling him on his head by his feet (much to the child's both amusement and horror), grinning wickedly as his mother appeared around the bend, a spatula dripping with cake batter in hand.

"Nikulas! Bihaqi alsama' , 'unzil bi'akhik qabl 'an tusqitah ealaa rasihi!"

Loosely translated, that meant, "Nicholas! For Heaven's sake, put your brother down before you drop him on his head!" and Nicholas was proud of his ability to immediately transition to French.

"Sorry, Mother," he apologized in Arabic. "I guess I got a little carried away. Wheeoop!" he cheered, flipping Nino back over and setting him down gently on the carpet. "All right, squirt. Go play with your toys. The adults need to talk."

His mother snorted, responding in her native language. "You're only sixteen. You're not a man yet, Nicholas."

"Not that he doesn't act like one every day," came the booming voice of his father as he popped his head around the corner to see what all the commotion was all about. Nino laughed and ran off to play near the Christmas tree, his mother eyeing him nervously as he came dangerously close to the presents.

His mother said something to his father in Arabic and Nicholas sighed, stretching and dropping his book bag by the door to go sprawl out on the couch for no reason whatsoever. It was peaceful like this, to hear his parents squabble teasingly while he watched his brother play. This felt like home. It was a kind of serenity that he didn't feel when he was at school surrounded by all of the students that he couldn't understand half of the time. It had been almost four years since his parents had uprooted themselves from their small Moroccan life to bring him and Nino to France for a chance at a better life and he appreciated it, really, but there were times he just missed the stillness of the small villages. The bustling city just wasn't the same.

Of course, Nino was having no trouble fitting in. His French was incredible. Then again, he was only six and he hadn't really been speaking much Arabic before they left. The same couldn't be said for his parents, who barely knew a lick of French (ironic, out of all of the countries they could have selected to move to). Nicholas had translated many a parent-teacher conference with moderate success.

"No feet on the table!" Ali called again, his voice a little softer now as he and his wife, Layla, turned and started back into the kitchen now that the excitement was over.

Nicholas sighed and did as he was told, exaggerating the motion to take as long as he possibly could.

"And pick your bag up! Our living room isn't for you to make a pigsty out of!"

"Yes, sir," Nicholas called, sticking his tongue out at Nino who giggled behind his toy dump truck.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes," Layla broke in, poking her head once more around the door. "Why don't you take your things upstairs and then help Nino get washed up?"

"Sure," Nicholas replied, heaving himself off of the couch and scooping Nino up amid the child's squeak of surprise. "Come on, akhi, let's go get ready for dinner." And just for the record, he flipped him upside down again. Nino laughed, hair standing straight on end, and reached for his toys under him.

"Nicholas!"

"Sorry, mother."

"'gain! Again!" Nino pleaded as Nicholas slid him over his shoulders and carried him piggy-back to the stairs.

"Maybe later, N," he sighed. "Don't want all that blood to rush out your eyeballs, do you?"

"Ew!" his brother agreed loudly, earning another chuckle from the older sibling.

"That's what I figured. Come on. Let's go get ready." Herding his giggling brother up the stairs and shaking his head in amusement, Nicholas followed.

Dinnertime with his family was always special for Nicholas, mostly because it was his chance to practice both his French and Arabic at once, switching back and forth for the sake of his parents and his brother. Not to mention his mother's cooking was to die for (as he believed the American saying went), even if his father had been trying to help out more (and by 'help out', he actually meant, 'managed to burn practically everything except the potatoes').

However, amid all of the jumbled languages and raised sentiments, there was one part of family mealtime that Nicholas did not appreciate--and the burning question that almost always accompanied it...

"So, how was school today? Did you make any friends?"

It hurt, each time that question was posed. And he knew his parents weren't doing it to be mean or spiteful. They genuinely cared. And that just made it all the worse for him to have to repeat the same answer night after night.

"School was fine," he answered quietly through a mouthful of spaghetti. "We had a field trip to the museum today. Saw some stuff. And no, I haven't made any friends yet." Though I did run this one boy over with my skateboard and he didn't absolutely despise me afterward, so there's always that going for me.

Disappointment flashed through their eyes but both of his parents managed to hide it well as they glanced over at their younger son to pose the same question.

"Is okay," Nino replied, shrugging heavily as he played with a noodle. "Counting. Letters. No noodles. There was new girl in class."

"Oh, a girl?" Ali teased, grinning like was Bastille Day. "Was she cute? What was her name?"

"Cute," Nino mumbled, trying to hide his face even as his mother and brother deadpanned. "M-mari--her name's Marinette. She...she talks funny. Like...like Nicholas but...but not the same. Different. First day. Smelled like bread."

Nichols slapped a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended by that comment. "Well, the moment you're old enough to marry this girl, I'd better be your best man, got it?"

Nino nodded quickly, eyes wide. Nicholas was sure he didn't understand what he was saying, but it was still hilarious to see him squirm as if he did.

"Nicholas, stop teasing your brother and eat your food before it gets cold!" Layla commanded. "You too!" she added, smacking her husband in the shoulder as he continued laughing. "Don't encourage him!"

"Too late!" Ali bellowed.

"Way too late," Nicholas added, eyeing his plate to avoid his mother's gaze. "He's encouraged. There's no hope for him now."

"He's also talking in the third person," Layla pointed out.

Nicholas grinned at her cheekily. "Yes, it appears he is."

"Nikolas, eat your dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ignoring his father's continuing laugher, Nicholas smirked as he went back to scooping pointlessly at his noodles, knowing, sooner or later, the conversation would circle back around to him and his lack of ability to fit in. He was just grateful for any moment of peace he could earn.

To his relief, the table-talk slowly drifted away from the boys and moved on to discussing how Ali's day at work had been (he worked at a small canning factory as one of the head managers) and the excitement of his upcoming trip to Mexico to discuss a new deal--and possibly a new factory near the Panama Canal. "It would be a great opportunity!" he'd explained loudly, repeating what he had stated at dinner a few nights previously. "We've always wanted a station in the Americas and this is our chance! I'll fly out in a week and make all the arrangements!"

At this, Nino, who had up until this point been relatively distant from the conversation, jerked his head up, eyes wide in alarm. "No!" he cried. "Don't leave! Don't want you to leave!" The tears were already trickling down his cheeks before anyone could move to comfort him.

Being the closest, Nicholas sprang to intercept, scooping his brother into his arms and holding him close, nearly upsetting the bowl of spaghetti in the process. "Shhh," he mumbled, bouncing him on his knees. "It's okay, Akhi. Dad will be back. It's just for a little while, all right?"

"No!" Nino wailed, burying his face into Nicholas's shirt. The older brother sighed but did not move to try and save his clothing from the soaking of tears. "If Daddy goes, never see again!"

Nicholas had no idea what had riled his little brother up so badly, but he was determined to set it right. "It's okay, Nino," he whispered in French. "It's okay, see? Dad isn't going anywhere. He's right here. Look." He shifted, leaving room for Nino to peer over at his father who had finally paused his eating at the sudden explosion of emotion. Nino sniffed, blinking tearfully and clinging to Nicholas fearfully.

"No, no, Nickie, no," the boy went on, repeating himself quicker and more urgently with each recitation. "Don't go. Don't let go. Not safe. No...no...please."

"It would only be for a couple of days," Ali went on to Layla, more cautious now that he saw how upset Nino was. "I just have to go sign some papers and show my face. I'll only be gone for...three days tops."

But Nino wasn't having any of it. Wailing, he shoved his face once more into Nicholas's shoulder. The older brother sighed, standing up slowly. "I'll take him upstairs and let him calm down," he told his parents, turning and hurrying out of the room before they could say anything.

They continued their conversation once they thought their children were out of earshot and Nicholas managed to catch the tail-end of their conversation.

"I'm worried about them," Layla spoke softly. "The both of them. Nicholas isn't making friends at school. I have received calls from his teachers about him acting out in class. I know he's just lonely, but he isn't going to make friends this way. And Nino jumps at his own shadow. He sees things that aren't there and his imagination is so vivid. It's not natural for a six-year-old to know what he does."

"The transition was hard on them," Ali tried to reassure her. "Change takes time. We adjusted. They will as well."

"Four years," Layla mumbled. "It's been four years. I'm sorry, but...I just...seeing the both of them so miserable...I can't help but wonder...did we make a terrible mistake coming here?"

Ali said something else but Nicholas didn't want to hear anymore. Holding Nino close, he rushed upstairs and hastily slammed the door to their room. Nino still holding tight, Nicholas took a moment to breathe slowly, his hands clenching as he gazed around at the heavily-bannered walls, littered with Nino's preschool drawings. One, Nicholas noticed, was of himself, Nino, and their soon-to-be little sibling. Nino was hoping for a sister. Nicholas's money was on another boy. He already knew the names picked out. For a girl; Elizabeth (a good French name, right?). For a boy; Christopher (his father's choice. His mother did not think it was authentic enough. Too English, she said. Clearly, she hadn't been paying attention to the homework she'd been trying to help him with).

It was going to be a boy. He could feel it. Three boys all told. Just to spite his mother.

"Here we are, Akhi," he chuckled, sitting down on the edge of Nino's bed and trying to coax him out of his arms. "It's okay to look up now. I'm here with you."

Choking slightly, Nino dared another glance up. His eyes met Nicholas's and he let out a tiny whimper. "Ni...Nick?"

"There you go," Nicholas smiled, forcing the eavesdropped conversation from his mind. "See? Everything is all right. Ab is here. He's not leaving." Not right away anyway. "Now, come on, let's get you all ready for bed. Sounds like you've had a long day."

Nino, still a little red and tear-streaked, nodded weakly and slid off his brother's lap, hurrying off to grab something out of Nicholas's line of sight. The older brother let out his breath, thinking about his dinner, half-eaten and getting colder by the minute. 

"Plane not safe," Nino mumbled. "Crash. Bad. Daddy can't go on plane."

Nicholas frowned, ducking under a flying shoe. "What are you talking about, Nino?"

"Plane! Crash!" Nino gestured wildly, frustrated to be unable to get his point across. "BOOM!" 

"The plane's not going to crash, little brother," Nicholas sighed, catching the other shoe mid-throw. "It is very safe. I promise."

Nino uttered a noise that Nicholas couldn't quite understand, but didn't argue any further, moving off to pick out his favorite pair of dinosaur pajamas. Nicholas stood slowly, following his eager energy wave of a sibling toward the door. "Okay, rugrat. No more tears. Let's get you all situated here." Meeting his little brother's hopeful gaze, he melted instantly. Curse you, Nino. You and your pure innocence. He supposed his dinner could wait a little longer. He could always heat it up if he was really hungry.

Dutifully, Nino marched out of the room, and with a small smile, Nicholas followed close behind.

After helping his brother get ready for bed, Nicholas turned to collapse on his own, tossing his headphones and hat onto the bedside table and letting out a long sigh of relief as he flopped onto the mattress. It was late (Nino had insisted on every bath toy in existence, none of which were where they were supposed to be) and his parents had long gone to sleep themselves. Across the room, he could hear Nino's light breaths as he too drifted off, leaving Nicholas lying awake by himself, replaying the events of the day through his mind like a movie, unfinished and distant. 

And his parent's conversation.

Did they really feel like he wasn't putting in enough of an effort? Did they really think going back to Morocco would solve everything? Part of him wanted to scream. "Yes! Take me back! Back to my friends! Nobody likes me! I can't stand it here!" but the more sensible side knew what a terrible and unfair thought that was. And what about Nino? his mind challenged. He's just beginning to fit in! It would be wrong to take him away from that now! He has friends--or at least, a friend. 

What he wouldn't do for the same kind of luck Nino had.

Well, at least that settled it. He couldn't risk ruining what future Nino had in this city. And that was exactly what was going to happen if he got them all shipped back to Africa because he was misbehaving. 

From now on, I'll be a model citizen. I won't do anything wrong and I'll try and make friends. That will show our parents that I want to be here and that will convince them that we have to stay!  For Nino's sake!

And I'll start by finding that boy and keeping my word.

Chapter Text

Nicholas was up extra early the following morning, in plenty of time to get ready, pack his lunch, and make it to school in time to visit the music lounge and work on a new kick beat he'd been developing. He planned to reveal the song in its completed form at the end of the year dance. That would be sure to make him friends because who didn't like someone who could write deathly-loud heavy metal, right?

What he didn't plan for was his parent's sudden emergency trip to the hospital for what he suspected would turn out to be braxton hicks, leaving him alone with twenty minutes until the first bell and a six-year-old late for kindergarten in tow.

"Come on, Nino!" Nicholas huffed, exasperated as he stared down at the miserable bundled form of his brother, complete with two jeans and three t-shirts plus a jacket three times his size, deciding he looked more like a lemon marshmallow than a human. "I'm going to be late for class and then Ms. Mendeleiev will actually skin me alive!"

"Can't," Nino sniffled, tugging fruitlessly at his coat's zipper as it refused to go up. "Stuck."

"You can unstick it on the way!" Nicholas moaned, already pacing the hall back and forth toward the door. "I have to get you to school so I can go too!"

"Is cold," Nino protested, giving one final jerk and then giving up entirely with a growl of frustration.

Nicholas felt that emotion deeply. "I know," he said practically through gritted teeth as he tried to herd the boy toward the door, swinging his backpack over his shoulders as he did. "It's cold. I'm cold. You're cold. Everyone is cold. You know why that is? Because it's winter. Everything is going to be cold. You know what else we are going to be? Expelled. And then you'll never see your friend again. Mari--whatzit?"

"Marinette," Nino whispered, hurrying to keep up with the older boy as Nicholas finally gave up and drug himself to the front door with a groan and a mutter of, "Tardy. Again."

"Yes, yes, her," Nicholas grunted, waving off his brother's indignation. "Backpack?" he added, pointing to the stairs where Nino's bright orange bag was waiting.

"Got it!" Nino announced, pulling it on and bolting out the door before the teen could find something else to gripe about. Cheeky squirt, Nicholas thought, following suit and closing the door behind them. The winter wind lashed at his exposed face and he sighed out a plume of condensed smoke, tugging his definitely-not-thick-enough coat around his neck and burying his headphones into the rim of his hood. Be very grateful that I love you as much as I do, Akhi, because between you and I, I really don't like this. I should be at school right now, practicing to sway the class and getting girls to swoon over me, not trudging along through three feet of snow to take my little brother to school.

In his defense, Nino had broken him. One look into those brown puppy eyes and he'd been toast. Nino knew it and took the opportunity every chance he got.

"Carry!" Nino demanded, already reaching for his brother's arms, sniffing pitifully and shivering.

Nicholas deadpanned at the act. "Nino, you're six."

"Don't care!"

"You have legs. You know how to walk."

"But not as fun!"

"Ugh. Fine. Whatever." Nicholas crouched down, allowing him to clamber onto his shoulders. "We're already late, right? What's another ten minutes when I die of heat exhaustion from carrying you all the way to school?"

"You said it was cold," Nino pointed out snarkily.

"You don't ever listen to anything I say," Nicholas sighed, shifting his backpack underneath his brother's weight. "I didn't figure you'd start now."

"I always listen," Nino protested.

"Ha!"

His brother giggled and buried his face into his hood, clearly undisturbed by Nicholas's sour mood as they started down the street toward the Reine. The sun was hardly up and their shadows loomed across the sidewalk, stretching and shrinking like some kind of awkward monster. Nino found great enjoyment in that comparison, blabbering on about something or another his classmates had seen on TV following it immediately with the question of, "Can I have a television for my birthday?" which Nicholas took all of four seconds to shoot down. He was happy that Nino was beginning to fit in, he really was, but they were seriously running late and there was no way he was going to be able to run all the way across the city, drop his bro off with a simple, "Hey, hi, how are ya? Love to stick around and chat, but I'm currently about to be murdered by my professor for being tardy again, so cheerio!" and make it back before the final bell.

Nino was quiet for the rest of the trip, deciding to play with one of his shoelaces on the subway and people-watch. Having nothing better to do, Nicholas watched with him, noting several unusual passengers. There was a man with a ferret (how he got it on the train was a mystery), a family with three identical girls (how they managed to keep them straight was amazing to him), and an older man sitting quietly across the way, pretending to read a newspaper. (He said pretending because he was sure the man kept glancing their way whenever Nino was distracted by something. And also, the newspaper was upside down).

Their stop was fourth down the line and Nicholas hastily herded Nino onto the platform, stepping out just as the doors were giving their final ding of warning. He checked his watch, already dreading what he would see.

Ten minutes remaining.

"Come on!" he said urgently, scooping Nino onto his shoulders once more and taking off for the stairs, leaping up them two at a time. Nino clung to him tightly as he reemerged into the sunlight and darted down the street, weaving in and out of the crowd, eyes already fixed on the white marble glistening in the distance.

We aren't going to make it!

Sighing and once again wishing he had someone--anyone--he could call to alert his class that he was going to be late, he switched gears, picking up the pace, and dashing through the crosswalk, forcing several cars to slam on their breaks to avoid hitting them. Horns blared loudly but he just skittered around them, ignoring Nino's yelps of surprise from above him.

We have to make it.

"Watch where you're going, kid!" someone yelled, but Nicholas didn't hear, already out of earshot. He could almost see the seconds ticking away on his internal clock.

Eight minutes.

"How are you doing up there, akhi?" he inquired, skidding around a bend and choosing a side alley as a quicker route. It wasn't as pleasant as the main road, but they were running short on time.

"Little dizzy," Nino sniffed in response, nearly knocking Nicholas's cap off in his attempt to shift into a more comfortable position. "Lost."

"We're not lost, Nino," Nicholas assured him. "We're just taking a shortcut."

"Look lost."

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Just hang on tight. You trust me, don't you?"

Nino mumbled something unintelligible, and very likely not the confirmation Nicholas was hoping for.

"Thanks, tifl. Your faith in me is staggering."

Wary eyes of various furred creatures glared at them from the shadows as they cut through the last few steps of darkness and emerged back into the light, three streets away from their destination.

Four minutes.

Almost there.

Fighting the urge to pull out his skateboard and ride the rest of the way with Nino still on his shoulders, he pushed himself to his limits. His legs and lungs screamed for him to stop but he kept running. He was going to do at least one thing right today and get Nino to class on time. Maturity be darned, he would do whatever it took.

Reaching the stairs to the preschool with two minutes to spare, he threw open the door and rushed in. Nino slid off his shoulders and Nicholas took his hand, running with him to the check-in desk.

"Ah! Made it just in time!" the secretary laughed as Nino rushed past her into the classroom and Nicholas collapsed against the table, managing a half-smile as he doubled-over, breathless. "Nicholas, I presume?"

"Present."

She smiled. "Well, I thank you for bringing Nino today. I'll check him in. I suppose your parents will be the ones coming to pick him up afterwards?"

That was Nicholas's guess also, unless the trip to the hospital wasn't just routine after all. He didn't tell her that, but she didn't look like she really needed him to. "Okay," she went on. "Well, in that case, I figure you need to be getting along to your own homeroom."

Nicholas nodded, straightening and moving out of the way just as a blur of pink and blue sped past and barrelled into the room beside Nino, arms already thrown wide for a hug. Nicholas blinked, turning as a couple rushed through the door, looking as disoriented and confused as the boy felt.

"Sorry!" the man bellowed, hurrying over and knocking Nicholas off his feet in his haste to speak to the grinning secretary. "So sorry! We had a little trouble getting up and moving this morning, but we made it!"

"Yeah..." Nicholas groaned, rubbing his head from the ground. I'll say.

"Oh, dear! Honey, you need to be more careful! You knocked this poor boy over!" There was movement out of the corner of his eyes and he stared up at the extended hand offered by the small dark-haired woman smiling apologetically. "Are you okay, young man?"

"Yeah," Nicholas repeated slowly, still a bit dazed. "Yeah, I think so." Taking her hand, he pulled himself to his feet and adjusted his headphones. "Thanks."

"You must be Nino's brother," the woman chuckled, blinking up at him as he reached his full height, towering over her. "I'm Sabine Dupain-Cheng and this is my husband, Tom." The man waved, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "We're Marinette's parents."

"Uh...Marinette?"

"The hurricane of energy that just rushed past," Sabine explained, gesturing to the room where Nino and the girl were already sitting at the same table, sharing a box of crayons and scribbling something that Nicholas suspected wasn't paper.

"And we swear it wasn't the cookies!" Tom added, walking over. Nicholas cringed slightly at his loud voice but he steeled himself, managing to return an anxious smile. "We may own a bakery, but we don't encourage that much sugar consumption."

"I believe you," Nicholas muttered, already trying to scoot toward the door. He didn't want to appear rude, but he was already late for class. "Um...it was very...uh...nice to meet you, Mr. and Ms. Dupain-Cheng, but I...I am late so if you'd...ah...excuse me..." He gestured hopelessly to the exit and both of the adults' eyes lit up in understanding.

"I see," Sabine said, sharing a glance with her husband. "And I'm guessing you're planning on walking all the way back?"

"Well, I mean, I was gonna take the subway..."

"Nonsense!" Tom bellowed, earning another jump from the teen. "We'll drive you! No sense in being late, now is there?"

"Oh, that's okay. I mean, shukran lak, but I'm alright. I'm used to being late by now."

"Well, there's no reason you should be again!" Tom went on, putting a hand on Nicholas's shoulder and steering him toward the door.

"It's the least we can do," Sabine added, hurrying after them. "Please. Your brother has been a great help to our daughter. He's gotten her to come out of her shell a little. And we were so worried that she wouldn't get along with any of the kids. Nino's been a bit of blessing in disguise."

That's my brother. Loving to a fault. Although he wasn't sure about the whole blessing thing, he could hear the sincerity in their words. And he really couldn't afford to be late again. "Okay," he agreed slowly, intentionally pulling all gratitude into his french. "Thank you. Both of you. So much."

"No, Nicholas, thank you."

With Mr. and Ms. Dupain-Cheng's help, Nicholas managed to arrive at the steps to the school courtyard with just a minute to spare. Yelling a thank you over his shoulder, he flew up the stairs, nearly knocking several freshmen over in his haste to get to his locker. He felt the Dupain-Chengs' caring expressions all the way up until he rounded the final bend and trudged up the stairs to his homeroom, throwing himself through the door just at the end of the last bell.

"Ah, Mr. Lahiffe," Ms. Mendeleiev exclaimed, glancing over her lenses and frowning as he trudged up the raised desks to his dismal seat in the very back. "So nice of you to join us this morning! And on time for once too! What a fortuitous event."

Offering nothing more than a half-hearted nod, Nicholas sunk behind his desk, finally allowing himself to let out the heavy sigh he'd been carrying for the past half an hour. He was not one for last-minute changes to routine and Nino had really thrown him off his game that morning. Absentmindedly, he pulled out his textbook and flipped to the chapter written on the chalkboard. 

Chapter 5: Folklorrs in French history. Pgs. 76-85. 

Nicholas stared at the board in confusion. Something wasn't right there. He wasn't an expert in translating as of yet, but he was sure that--

He blinked and rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Chapter 5: Folklores in French history. Pgs. 76-85.

He must not have slept as well as he'd thought. He was seeing things. Biting his lip, he went back to scanning the textbook for important details that might crop up on a semi-anticipated pop quiz. 

About halfway through the lecture, he felt something hard and wet slam into the back of his neck. With a yelp of surprise, he reacted accordingly, slapping a hand to his ear, his fingers brushing against a small wad of paper. He cringed, hearing snickers from across the room from a group of teenagers all sitting together and grinning stupidly in his direction. One of them was holding a straw and it didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

Ms. Mendeleiev paused her lecture at his outburst and glanced up at him. "Is everything all right, Nicholas?" she asked, her tone colder than a polar bear in the arctic.

The laughter went on as Nicholas rid his neck of the paper and wiped his hands on his pants. He glared at the perpetrators through narrowed eyes but answered calmly, "Yes, Ma'am. Sorry. I thought I saw a bee."

"Hmmm," the purple-haired woman frowned deeply. "Well, in the future, might I suggest you keep your dislike of flying insects to yourself while in the class?"

"Yeah, freak!" someone shouted from near the front of the class, not even deterring at Ms. Mendeleiev's sharp glare. "Why don't you just be quiet? None of us want to hear you stutter like a five-year-old!"

"Mr. Chance, that is quite enough!" Almost quicker than the eye could follow, their professor spun on her heels, waving her pointer at the student who had spoken up. "Mr. Lahiffe is part of this class and you will treat him as such. If I hear one more peep out of you, I will not hesitate to send you to the principal's office. Do I make myself clear?"

Nicholas was in shock. He would never have anticipated Ms. Mendeleiev would be the one to stand up for him. Actually, he was pretty sure she hated him. It looked like she hated disrespect even more and for once, he felt a spark of warmth flood through his veins as the scolded boy sunk low into his seat, tips of his ears turning red.

"Yes, Madam."

It was only after Ms. Mendeleiev looked away to resume her lesson that Nicholas spotted the venomous glare from his classmate. He wanted to say something, do something, react somehow, but he remained firmly in his seat, refusing to let the boy's bad temper overflow to him. Stay calm. Just breathe. You can't control what other people do. You can only choose your own way of responding. 

That sounded like something his mother would say and the idea brought the smallest of smiles to his face. 

The rest of class passed rather smoothly in his mind. They moved from history to mathematics and then science before breaking for lunch and Nicholas was just jotting down the last of his notes for lab in his journal when the bell rang, beginning the mad rush for the doors and the dining hall. The first ones out were those closest to the exit, followed closely by those in the second and third rows. Eventually, all the students had filed out, leaving Nicholas sitting alone in the back of the room, sketching around the border of his notes as he absentmindedly bit into his pre-wrapped sandwich and pulled his headphones back over his ears. It wasn't until he heard footsteps beside him that he paused his fiddling and glanced up to meet the concerned gaze of another of his professors, one just out of college herself. 

"Hello, Nicholas."

He paused. "Miss Bustier," he responded cordially.  "'Ahlan. Uh...can I help you with...can I help you?"

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "May I sit down?"

He blinked, startled. "Um...yeah...sure. Here." Gathering his books and backpack, he slid down the bench, making room for her, though he did not understand why she even wanted to speak to him in the first place.

Her gaze fell on his notebook. "Did you draw that?" she asked, pointing to a hastily-drawn sketch of a flower and a bird. 

Nicholas hesitated. "Um...yes? It's...it's nothing," he added, quickly trying to tuck it underneath another of his textbooks. "It's...ah...just a doodle."

Miss Bustier smiled gently. "May I?"

"Uh, sure?"

"You're very talented, you know."

"Thank you?" Nicholas shifted uncomfortably. "It's...not one of my best. I...didn't have much to work with."

"But yet you drew it," Bustier went on. "Meaning it must have some kind of sentimental value to you."

Nicholas let out his breath. So that was what it was all about. "You're not here to talk about my art, are you, Madam Bustier?"

She grinned. "You always were a bright student, Nicholas. No, I'm here to talk about you. I want to know how you've been getting along. Moving to a new school is hard enough, but an entire country is something completely different. I wanted to make sure you were doing all right. And to make sure you know that I am here for you if you need anything. Okay?"

Nicholas nodded. "Okay, uh...thank you?" he repeated.

Miss Bustier nodded, patting him gently on the shoulders before standing up and moving away from the desks. "Change can be hard," she said. "But sometimes, it can bring about the most amazing sides of ourselves that we could never had anticipated." When Nicholas frowned, she quickly went on. "You have great potential. You just...need the chance to spread your wings. Trust me. One day, you'll see what I mean."

"I hope so," Nicholas confessed. 

"Believe in yourself," she replied, starting back down the stairs now. "That's your answer. You are more than what's on the surface. But I think you already know that."

Nicholas watched, flabbergasted, as his English professor gave him one last smile before quietly exiting the room, leaving him sitting alone once more, music blaring out his headphones dangling forgotten around his neck. Slowly, his eyes drifted from the front of the classroom down to his sketchbook and he let the smallest of smiles creep onto his face.

Believe in myself. Yeah, that's not a bad idea actually. Thank you, Miss Bustier.

The mid-lunch bell rang again shortly after, but Nicholas did not hear it. Quietly, he stuffed his half-eaten lunch back into his backpack and threw the bag over his shoulder. With one smooth motion, he brought his music once more pulsing to his ears and he let himself be carried away by it as he softly exited the room and started off down the hall and through the main courtyard. He dodged around a team of double-dutch and narrowly avoided a basketball to the head as he hurried up the stairs to the dock overlooking the Reine, finding the beat in every step he took and every pulse of his heart. It was beautiful here, just pausing to take in the river as it sparkled majestically in the noon-day light. There was a peace that he felt, just watching the waves as they lapped the shores gently and purposelessly, free without a care in the world. Mashed with his shuffled playlist, there was a sense of calm that flooded his bones and repelled the negative emotions from his mind.

He inhaled, not caring if passerbys saw him and wondered what he was doing, gawking at the water when he could have been inside spending time making friends and influencing people (unlikely on both accounts, don't tell his parents). He tapped out a new rhyme on the concrete walk, hastily flipping to a new page in his notebook and jotting the lettering down before he forgot. He would figure out what they meant later. For now, he just allowed the music to flow through him.

It was almost possible to drown out the world this way.

Almost.

Just as he was about to reach the bridge of the chorus, he heard the more rapid flurry of people around him and he cautiously glanced up from his journal, noticing just how many spectators had gathered around him, all gasping and pointing to something across the Reine. Confused as to where they had all come from, Nicholas followed their gestures, and he nearly dropped his pencil in shock. 

Smoke.

There was smoke rising from somewhere in the downtown heart of the city.

And by the looks of things, it wasn't someone having a weenie-roast.

What is happening?!

"It's the hospital!" someone yelled from behind him. He spun, but could not locate the source of the voice. "There's a fire in the hospital!"

The hospital! Mom and Dad! Adrenaline propelled him to his feet and he was already turning before his brain could even process what it was he was doing. Immediately, he yanked out his phone and dialed his father's cell, meanwhile shouldering his way through the crowd toward the nearest bridge. Come on! Pick up! Pick up! 

The phone went straight to voicemail and Nicholas fought back the engulfing panic. Without thinking, he broke into a full sprint, tearing through the crowds, which parted like the Red Sea as he passed. If he hadn't been so panicked about this predicament, he might have found the Biblical allusions ironic. 

But now was not the moment to make the connections. He reached the bridge and dashed across, already dialing and redialing the number, coming up with a voicemail each time. 

They're not answering! Why aren't they answering?

Fearing the worst, he could feel hot tears sting his eyes as he immediately began to see scenarios of his parents both being killed, him having to drop out of school and find a job to help Nino, of never having the ordinary life his family had dreamed of. 

The tears came harder and faster now, latching onto his face thanks to the biting winds and nipping at his exposed hands and eyes, earning a sniffle from the teen as he rounded another bend, the smoke growing thicker by the minute.

He was only a couple of streets away now and he could hear the sirens of the approaching fire and police department. But it was far too late for that. The flames were entirely out of control. Even from where he stood, he knew that. There was no way they could be able to save everyone.

Mom!

Dad!

"Musaeida!" he shrieked rounding the final corner and getting his first good look at what he was up against. "Help! Musaeida!" 

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" 

Strong arms suddenly seized him from behind and yanked him back amid his screams. Arms flailing, Nicholas was aware of multiple bodies surrounding him, holding him back even as he tried to break free.

"Take it easy, kid! You can't go in there! It's not safe!"

"I have to!" Nicholas bellowed, clawing desperately for freedom. "Al'umu! Ab! My parents! They're in there!" And maybe my baby brother or sister too! "I have to get to them!"

"You can't go in!" was the sharp response. "The entire structure is unstable! You'll get hurt!"

"But my family!" Nicholas cried. 

"Stay back, kid! Let the police do their job!" the voice was panicky, the grip on his arms fading. "Everything is going to be all right, okay? The firefighters are here! They'll take care of this! Everything will be fine!"

Nicholas half wondered if the man was trying to convince him or himself more of that.

But either way, it didn't matter. 

There was a shout from somewhere near the front of the building. A cry of warning, perhaps? Of danger? He couldn't tell.

A moment later, the entire structure blew outwards in a blinding display of fierce power, and Nicholas was completely enveloped by red and fire.

Chapter Text

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, scream already formed in his throat, Nicholas was only partially aware of the rush of cold air that whooshed past his face as everything around him exploded into a billion pieces.

"Look out!"

Something fast and heavy collided into his torso and he cried out, having no time to brace himself. The force of the expelling wave shook the entire block, picking him up and tossing him all the way to an intersecting street where he hit the asphalt, catching himself momentarily before he rolled, arms curled up over his head to protect his face and eyes. Bolts of pain shot through his nerves like lightning and he gasped, realizing that, amid his frantic wheezing and the blood raging through his brain, he was still alive.

The object that had struck him hit the ground not far behind, having been thrown clear of him upon impact. Ears ringing, Nicholas rolled onto his stomach, fighting for the strength to stand, even as he blinked through teary eyes to see just what it was that had hit him.

Or, more accurately, who.

It wasn't a piece of debris like Nicholas had anticipated it to be. Instead of a beam or a desk or some other kind of sharp, dangerous piece of equipment, he found himself staring at a living, breathing, heap of red and black, buried beneath what Nicholas could only describe as a cape. A gigantic cape.

A pained moan rose from the mass, followed closely by a rain of fire and ruin plummeting to the pavement behind him. "Owww," came a weak gravelly voice as his rescuer pushed himself weakly onto his hands and knees, coughing. His words came out sharp, perhaps a little unintentional, foreign even. "That really smarts." 

Nicholas, still wheezing, stared as the man rolled unsteadily to his feet, brushing the charred ash from his shoulders and--armor? "What--" he began to question but was rudely interrupted by another post-rupture of something on a higher floor. More screaming followed and the figure whipped around, his cloak billowing out behind him and whacking Nicholas in the face.

"Oh good grief!" the man exclaimed, watching the action as if it were something out of a movie. "As if one explosion wasn't already extremely over the top! They just had to go and put a pipeline there, didn't they?"

If he was expecting some kind of response from Nicholas, then he was going to be sorely disappointed at the teen lay there on the pavement, propped up on his elbows, mouth open in silent wonder but no words forming to express the sensation of shock coursing through his brain.

There was a superhero standing right in front of him!

A superhero! In Paris! Right in front of him! The odds of that happening, that there would actually be a superhero in the city, were so astronomical that he didn't know where to begin.

"Who--" he tried again, only to be cut off by a furious growl from the dragon-themed hero.

"No time for questions!" the man snapped, drawing something from his belt and fingering it thoughtfully as he eyed the rapidly decaying situation before him. "You should run while you still have the chance!"

Senses still coming back to him, he barely comprehended the order. "I can't!" Nicholas yelled over the sound of blaring sirens, his heart racing at a million miles per hour as he stood up to the masked male. "My parents are in there!" He pointed toward the burning hospital. "I can't leave without them!"

"I'll get them!" the dragon bellowed, twirling back toward him, fury blazing in his light eyes. "You need to take your little skateboard and ride away as fast as you can! Go! Whatever you do, don't look back!"

Nicholas flinched back at the harsh tone in those words and he stumbled for some kind of argument he could present to talk the hero out of his decision. I can't go without my mom and dad! I won't run away and save myself! I'm not a coward! He balled his hands into fists and planted his feet, glaring up firmly at the man.

"Oh for--why aren't you running?" the hero exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his gloved hands into the air, revealing the golden whip unfurling from his grip. "What part of 'none of this is safe' are you having trouble grasping?"

Something else exploded, but the man didn't even wince, his attention fully fixed on the teenager standing his ground rebelliously. Neither moved and the first of the smoke drifted past them, flooding the air with ash and cinders. The man scowled at the smaller boy and suddenly took a step back, bringing a hand up to his head with a cry of, "Do, what?"

Immediately, Nicholas wondered if that was an earpiece and, if so, who else might be assisting this new arrival. Because of course there was someone else! There was always someone else! He'd watched enough spy movies to confirm that.

"No, Trekk!" the man exclaimed. "I am not putting an innocent kid in harm's way!"

Trek? What kind  of  code name  is  that?

Okay, he wasn't going to lie. It was pretty cool. Very James Bond.

"No, no, I don't care who he is! This is not a battle for a civilian!" the hero exclaimed, speaking rapidly to someone that could not be seen.

Knowing he was about to be forcibly removed from the scene to somewhere where he would be no help to anyone, Nicholas gaped at the hero and braced himself to resist.

"Listen, I don't care if he is the President of the United States! He can't stay here!" The dragon-man growled. He moved quickly, grabbing Nicholas under his arms and pulling him to his feet. Nicholas yelped, the sudden swirl of pain sharper than a dagger through his spine, unbalanced by the blood rushing from his head and the drum thundering through his skull. "You should be running! Are you all right?" the man demanded sharply, causing Nicholas to jump slightly as he glanced up at the older male and realized the conversation had returned to him once again. "Are you hurt?"

Nicholas opened his mouth but not so sound came out. 

"Well? Speak!" Firm hands grasped his shoulders and shook him gently, just enough to elicit a response from the teen.

"I...I'm fine!" Nicholas exclaimed. Pain sparked through his side, protesting his every word. He fought back a wince and gritted his teeth. "My parents!" he repeated forcibly, trying to force off the hero's strong grip and peer over his head toward the crumbling building. 

The dragon craned his neck, twisting back to follow the teen's panicked gaze. More screamed flooded the block, coming from a nearby complex compromised by the plummeting debris. He growled. "All right!" he yelled, pulling abruptly away and steeling his jaw. "Here's what we're going to do; you're going to run. As fast as you can. I'll save your parents and everyone else!"

"But--" Nicholas began for the third time.

"Look, kid!" the man yelled. "I can't go after everyone else if I have to be worrying about whether or not some insane teenager wants to play hero! Do you understand me?"

Nicholas stilled, the seriousness of the vigilante's words falling hard on his heart. And he was right. Nicholas wouldn't survive for a moment in a disaster like that. He wasn't the one with the mad glowing Wonder Woman lasso. Trying to rescue his parents on his own would only get him injured--or worse.

The man snorted. "We understand each other then?" 

Nicholas nodded reluctantly. "Naeam."

Dragon-man smirked grimly. "I don't speak that language--whatever it was. But I'll just assume you agreed with me." He rose to his full height, towering over Nicholas, cape billowing out around dark army-themed boots with a number of pointy spikes jutting from the heels. 

Nicholas blinked up at him. "I did," he tried again, transitioning back to French. "I understand. I won't get in your way."

The hero pondered him thoughtfully. "Good." 

They stood for a moment, neither moving, Pain rippled through Nicholas's body and he grimaced, immediately reaching for something to steady himself, his hands crashing into a brick wall. He lowered his gaze for a split second as the world spun dangerously and nausea bubbled in the back of his throat.

There was a flurry of movement and a whoosh of cold air struck his face. 

When he composed himself long enough to look up again, he found the street deserted, the mysterious man disappearing in seconds.

What...where did he...HUH?

Swallowing back more bile and scanning the clearing for anything to answer his hundreds of questions or locate his parents, Nicholas tried to assess the damage, both on himself and his surroundings. His arms and legs ached and something definitely felt wrong in his right wrist. He guessed that would have been caused by landing the entirety of his body mass upon it. It would be sprained if he was lucky. 

He wasn't.

He really, really wasn't.

Footsteps flooded him from every side and he flinched as a shoe came down hard near his head, belonging to a fleeing civilian who probably hadn't even seen him leaning there in their haste to escape. Someone shoved roughly past and Nicholas cried out, fighting to right himself amid the bustling stampede. 

Hey! 

Watch it!

Don't you see the poor guy you're about to turn into a pancake?!

They didn't. It was just common sense. Fight or flight. Every man for himself. In their fits of self-preservation, they did not stop to think, "Oh, hey! There's a kid here! Maybe we should stop and see if he needs help because he looks so scared and confused!" They were only out to protect themselves. No one else.

And Nicholas couldn't say he blamed them. He'd probably be doing the same thing if he hadn't been extremely concerned for his parents' safety. He wasn't a heroic person. In fact, he was about as far from heroic as one could possibly be. All he wanted to do was hole up somewhere and wait for this entire nightmare to be over. He didn't want to be caught in some weird explosion that didn't make sense, surrounded by people who weren't making sense, having seen a superhero who made even less sense. 

Was he a superhero? With the fancy colors and the sweeping cape, Nicholas wasn't sure what else he could have been. But, yet, at the same time, something didn't feel...quite right. There had been no charm to the man's words, no compassion either. Weren't those both important characteristics for a hero? Or was that just fiction from all of his movies? Perhaps real-life heroes weren't so gracious with their words or their time. Maybe they were far too busy saving lives to slow down and be considerate to unimportant nobodies who just so happened to stumble into their path.

Yes, that was it. Nicholas had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was all.

It seemed like that was becoming a habit.

Another group of people shoved past him and he pressed his back up firmly against the bricks, trying to get out of their way. He reached for his phone, surprised to find it in one piece, and once again dialed his father's number. Come on! You have to be okay! You have to be! Please, pick up!

Chills danced his spine as he received no answer from the phone; instead going straight to voicemail. Fearfully, he let his gaze drift once more to the shattering tower, alight and very much still on fire. They couldn't still be in there, could they? What were the chances they would have survived that explosion? He didn't need to be a mathematician to know how low they were. It had all happened too fast. There had been no warning, no time for anyone to evacuate. 

Is that it then? Have I just lost my entire family?

A tremor ran through him at the thought--but not the kind of fear or agony. No, this felt more like--a warning. The earth shook but his eyes were drawn away from the disastrous scene before him to an open window two buildings over. He frowned, not understanding at first why his instincts had pulled him in a new direction. 

And then he heard it.

From the initial explosion and debris that had followed, several had landed throughout the city, scattered a lot like a buck-shot rifle. One of these pieces of debris--a large supporting beam--had crashlanded into a nearby apartment complex, smashing entirely through the top two floors before coming to an abrupt stop--halfway through the third floor. A secondary fire had erupted around the destruction and crews were already on the scene.

So, everything should have been fine, right? The firemen would help the residents and make sure they were all accounted for and safe.

But something was egging him on, warning him that something wasn't right. That someone was in danger.

"Help!" rose a distant scream above the clanging and shrieking of sirens. "Someone help me, please!"

Darn his senses. 

Just...out of everything that had already happened...

His gaze lifted briefly to the heavens. Are you serious right now?

Nicholas heaved himself upright, his eyes darting from the crumbling hospital on his right to the cries to his left. For a moment, he stood, petrified, torn between his common sense telling him to run for the hospital, and instinct commanding him to help whoever was in trouble. But even as he forced his feet forward and he inched his way closer and closer to the wreckage, he couldn't fight the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that it was the wrong decision.

"My daughter! Please! Someone!"

Go back, Lahiffe! his traitorous brain hissed. Go back and help her!

I can't! he shot back, picking up his pace. The smoke burned his lungs and nose and he coughed, blinking teary eyes. My family needs me!

What about her family? Come on, Nicholas! What if it were your daughter?

I'm not a hero! he thought desperately. I don't save people! I'm not like that! I can't do that!

But there is no one else! If you don't help her, that woman's daughter is going to die! What if it were Nino?

Nicholas came to a screeching halt. Another scream and now he could see the faint outline of the dragon-man grabbing someone out of the tenth-floor window. His conscience was right. The superpowered guy could handle the big problem, but there was no way of knowing if he could get back in time to save the girl. And he couldn't leave her! Because he was right! What if it had been Nino? Wouldn't he do everything in his power then?

"I hate you," he muttered to himself, already rotating on his heels

He was being stupid right now, running back into a danger he knew nothing about, but he pushed that concern away, biting his lip as he rounded the bend and came face to face with the problem.

Or, rather, problems. 

Number one: the beam that had collapsed through the roof had splintered across a series of pipelines. Even from where he stood behind the gathering crowd, he could smell the gas. Just breathing wrong could set the entire thing up in flames.

Which led him to problem number two. There was no telling for sure whether or not a fire had already begun inside. Open one wrong door and kaboom, no more heroics, toast.

The third problem was more manageable: sneaking past the firefighters who would definitely not want him running into a gas-filled room. Ducking his head and pulling his hoodie over his hat, he quickly rushed in from the side, refusing to meet the eyes of the panicked mother clinging, fighting, against her husband who was struggling to hold her back but looking just as panicked as her.

No time to waste.

Ignoring the startled exclamations from one or two of the citizens who noticed his actions, Nicholas hid his face from their sights, reaching for and testing the door as he covered his mouth with his elbow. The knob was cold. No fire directly on the other side then. Not a terrible start.

There was another yell and someone grabbed him from behind. Strong hands clamped over his shoulders and yanked him back toward the light.  Nicholas cried out, flailing and managing to break away from the grip. Then, without hesitation, he threw himself forward into the door, much like he did to his own back home, balking as it gave under his pressure and swung open. 

The onlookers cried out in alarm and Nicholas braced himself for impact.

He wasn't immediately set on fire, so he took that as a good thing.

Now to be a hero.

"No! Wait! Stop! Kid, you can't go in there!" 

He ignored the cries and barrelled on. The entranceway was a short one and he found himself standing in the main living quarters within a few steps. He blinked, the putrid odor of gas seeping through his sleeves into his eyes and nose. He coughed, already scanning the dusty room for signs of life. 

Particularly for a little child.

A table, chairs, television, piano. All natural things one would expect to see in an upperclassman's house. However, there was no one in the living room. He heard a creak from the structure boards as he carefully passed into the kitchen. A shower of drywall and wood littered the tile, revealing a gigantic gap in the ceiling as well as a board that had fallen straight through the heart of the refrigerator. Cautiously, Nicholas pulled open the door to investigate, frowning as he found what was at the end of the beam.

An entire carton of raspberry dark chocolate chip ice cream.

The audacity. 

Another groan from the structure. Wary of his time, Nicholas quickly shut the refrigerator door and moved on toward the master bedroom. The gas was getting stronger here and Nicholas wiped watery tears from his eyes, pushing open the sliding barn-like doors and searching the room.

No one.

Not a soul.

Where is she? Nicholas spun to retrace his steps to the stairs, pausing at the base and grabbing the railing to catch his breath as his spasms got worse. His head throbbed but he pushed past it, jogging up the flight two at a time. At the top, the pathway split. Left or right.

He chose left. 

"Hello?" he wheezed, momentarily falling against the wall before catching himself and stumbling on. "Is...is anybody...here?" Please answer! I need to know where you are! 

The floor swayed underneath him. He blinked again, clearing the swarming lights from his vision.

And there! He heard it! The quietest whimper, almost inaudible against the commotion outside. Coming from the very last door in the hall. It was so far...and yet, he knew where she was! He could get to her! He could save her!

"Hold on!" he called, sprinting the rest of the way through the corridor and slamming the entirety of his weight into the door frame, gasping and simultaneously reaching for the handle. Again, not hot. No fire inside door number two either. "I'm coming!"

He heard the whimper again and that fulled him on. "Stand back!" he yelled, already moving to take out the dor with a single kick. "If you're near the door, get away!" He waited a moment, just to be sure, and then let loose with everything he had. The door went flying off its hinges, slamming into the back wall and revealing a child's playroom to Nicholas. 

The boy didn't hesitate, rushing in. 

At first glance, the room appeared deserted. Toys lay scattered and forgotten across the floor, a half-finished drawing clung to the back of a chair, dangling by a single piece of tape. Nicholas didn't see anyone.

But he could hear someone.

A soft sniffle. Coming from the direction of the closet.

He moved quickly, hurrying over and carefully unfolding the closet door, finding the child--possibly no older than four--huddling inside. She whimpered, gazing up at him with terror-filled pools of blue, and he swallowed hard, trying to picture what he might say if this were Nino and something his brother was afraid of.

"Hey," he said slowly, getting down on one knee and spreading his hands--palms up--placidly. "Hi there. It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. My name's Nicholas. Your mommy sent me to get you. Do you want to get out of the closet now?"

The little girl shook her head, coiling in on herself and her teddy bear more tightly.

Nicholas thought fast. "You're scared. I understand. This is a scary situation. I know...what if I told you a story? Would you come out with me if I told you a story?"

The blond nodded cautiously, slowly uncurling herself and holding out her arms for Nicholas to pick her up. He did so immediately, taking her tightly in his arms and hurrying back for the exit. His face fully exposed to the gases now, he kept her head against his shoulder. She would get to smell his dog on his shirt all the way out, but at least it was better than inhaling poisonous fumes.

Darkness was creeping into his vision now, as he tore down the stairs, half-wishing he could ride the banister all the way down. The door was still open and with fading strength, he sprinted around the last few remaining pieces of furniture and emerged back into the sunlight. 

The burst of cold air hit him and he cried out, feeling his knees buckle underneath him. Someone caught him just before he hit the ground and he felt the girl being gently pried from his grasp. By her mother, he assumed, even as whoever had caught his head let him lay gently on the pavement, heaving for fresh oxygen as the gas continued to swirl through his brain. 

There was a second flurry of moment, followed closely by a series of shouts of panicked Arabic. "That's my son! Out of the way! Move! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

Warm hands grasped his and he felt their presence surrounding him before they were even there. "Mom?" he whispered, cracking his eyelids just enough to make out the blurry image of his mother kneeling beside him, bruised and bloody, but smiling anxiously nevertheless. He flicked his gaze to his other side. "Dad?"

They were both there. They were okay.

"Nikolas! Are you all right? What happened?"

He wanted to answer them, he really did, but he could not find the words. His tongue could not form the syllables. It hurt to even think. All he could do was lie there and repeatedly whisper mental expressions of gratitude for his parents' safety. 

"Nicholas?" his father repeated. "Son? Can you hear us?"

Nicholas tried to turn and look at him, to show he understood, but his gaze fell on something further on beyond his father's worried face. A cloaked figure in red. Hovering near the back of the commotion.

For the briefest moment, their eyes met; hazel on blue, and then, with the smallest shake of his head, the hero rose from his crouched position and disappeared into the crowd.

Nicholas let his head fall back and the world vanished into a swirl of black.

Chapter Text

"Nich...olas? Nickie? You hear? You awake?"

Something poked his cheek and he groaned, swiping weakly at the offending finger and hearing the giggle of laughter as small feet scrambled away from him and disappeared around a bend. A dog barked and Nicholas grunted something he didn't even understand as his senses began to return and he felt the firm mattress underneath him.

"Owww," he grunted, heaving himself up onto his elbows and slowly glancing around, recognizing his own room and the anxious eyes watching him from the doorway. "I...am now. What is it, Nino?"

Said boy peeked back around the corner at him. "Yous been asleep!" came the hasty response. "Yous missed dinner and Dover is hungy!"

"Oh," Nicholas said, trying to sit up all the way. His head spun and his arms felt like jelly. As Nino cautiously crept back into the room, Nicholas fell back against a mountain of pillows with a deep grunt. "Dover is hungry? Are you sure about that?" There was no reply from the child and Nicholas knew what that meant. Besides, something was far too quiet to be normal. "Where are mom and dad?" he inquired, heaving himself up once again and forcing back nausea as Nino stood hopefully by his bedside, holding a bag of snacks in his hands.

"Downstair," Nino sang, scrambling up onto the bed, holding out the bag of cheese puffs happily. "Yous still sleepy?" he chirped. "Chip?" He shoved the snack into Nicholas's face.

"No, that's okay. I'm good," Nicholas said quickly, pushing the Cheeto away and running a hand through his hair, wincing as his muscles felt like lead and he leaned back against the bed frame with a long sigh. "What time is it?"

"Dinner time!" Nino repeated urgently, tugging at the quilt impatiently.

Well, that was no help. With a moan, Nicholas heaved himself over to peer irritably at his flashing alarm clock which read 7:48 p.m. Ugh. It's so late. But why is it so quiet? Shouldn't the house be full of noise and dad's screaming over his football game or something? He didn't like the silence. Silence often meant trouble. Or danger. His family was not silent. Something was wrong.

"Where are ab and al'umu?" he repeated shortly, sitting up and ignoring Nino's wince of hurt as he was forcibly knocked from the bed. "Why am I not at school? Why aren't you?"

"School done! I draw big truck! " Nino answered proudly, picking up his spilled bag of chips, scowling as the retriever came diving into the room to lick up the crumbs. "Ew, Dozer!" he complained, receiving a sloppy kiss in reply. "No! Yuckie!" He pushed the dog away, wiping his face of slobber. "Nickie! Dozer licked me again!"

"I saw," Nicholas muttered, head still pounding as he swung himself from the mattress and started to stand. "Mom and Dad?"

"Downstair," Nino repeated, trying to shove Dozer's face away from his. "Tree. Playing with presents. Wanna play too!"

"Maybe later, Akhi." Nicholas knew his parent's codes. "Wrapping presents" was actually a misnomer for "having a serious discussion that does not involve two children who should not be worrying about anything besides getting a good education and making a name for themselves". They almost always held them after the brothers had gone to bed and they were always related to Nicholas; either about his studies or his music, neither of which impressed them. "Why don't you go play with your blocks?" he suggested, gesturing abstractly to the pile of scattered legos covering the far half of the room.

"Don't want to," Nino sniffed, scooting closer. "Mommy said...stay with...with you. Said...said you was sick." He sat up straight and slapped a hand to Nicholas's forehead like his parents had done to him the last time he'd been feverish. "Don't feel hot," he commented.

"I'm fine, Nino," Nicholas grunted, pulling his small fingers away. "I'm not sick."

"Said you was!" Nino argued indignantly, snuggling closer, much to Nicholas' annoyance. I need to get up! I need to know what happened today! Is that little girl okay? Who was that guy with the mask? "Staying here."

"Akhi," Nicholas sighed. 'You can't stay here. I have to get up! I've got chores to do! You do too!"

"Uh, uh! Not moving!"

"You can be highly annoying when you want to be, can't you?"

Nino just beamed in his typical, "I know very well that you are insulting me but I am going to be ornery and pretend that I am just a typical little kid who doesn't know and doesn't care what you have to say while silently judging your every move" grin and peered up at him with hopeful eyes.

Nicholas frowned even more deeply, but his younger sibling was not deterred. "Fine," he said, seeing as the boy was set in his ways. "Would you at least let me get up and go to the bathroom? Or are you so determined to be an overbearing bodyguard that you won't let the poor injured man up?"

Alarm flashed through Nino's features as the child quickly began searching Nicholas for said injuries. "Yous hurt!" he echoed, and he, to Nicholas's pure agony, clung even tighter around his waist. 

"Ergh...Nino...come on...I'm okay, really. It was...just an expression."

Heaving himself to the edge of the bed, Nicholas held his brother close, painfully aware of the shooting pain in his wrist and burning ache in his lungs. He supposed the former had been from the main blast and the latter from the daring rescue, which caused his mind to once again circle back to the events of that afternoon. What had happened that could have caused the building to go up in flames in the first place? Was the little girl all right? Was she with her parents right now somewhere warm, eating a warm dinner? 

And had he actually seen a man dressed up like a dragon swoop in and save his family?

Okay, no, that was not his main concern right now. His focus was on getting downstairs and making sure his parents were all right. There was so much he didn't know--and couldn't remember. What had happened after he passed out? Had everyone gotten out safely? Had his class worried about him when he didn't return from lunch? 

No, probably not. They never paid much attention to him anyway. Ms. Bustier might have noticed, but that would only have been because she'd just spoken to him and would be wondering where he could have gone in such a short period of time. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket and, securing Nino in one arm, he quickly pulled up the lock-screen, scanning a message from his principal; something about being tardy and being required to make up the work later. He could deal with that afterward. Right now, he had bigger things to concern himself with. 

"Nickie," Nino sniffled. "Where going?"

"Just hold on," Nicholas assured him. "I just need to talk to Mom and Dad. Then I'll get you a snack or something."

"Can't," Nino protested. "Not here."

Nicholas paused. "What?"

"Not here," Nino repeated, his voice trembling. "Gone."

Panic shot through Nicholas as he gaped at his brother. "But you said they were here! Where are they?"

"Gone," Nino echoed. "Asleep. Dark. Can't...can't see..."

Nicholas could hear footsteps downstairs. "Nino, you're imagining things again, Akhi! Mom and Dad are in the kitchen! I can hear them! Now, come on! Let's go see what they are up to, yeah?"

Hazel eyes blinked up tearfully but Nino nodded uncertainly, swinging his arms around Nicholas's neck and resting his head on his elder brother's shoulder to peer tiredly at something behind them. Nicholas didn't know what his sibling was seeing whenever he went into this moony-eyed glazed stare, only that he'd been doing it a lot these past few weeks. He wondered if they were waking nightmares and if he should be a little more concerned about Nino's wellbeing than he currently was. He'd have to remember to add that to his list of questions to rattle off at their next doctor's appointment. 

Trudging carefully down the stairs with his brother firmly in his arms, Nicholas peeked around the corner to the kitchen, finding his parents settled around the island; his father pouring a cup of coffee and his mother quietly sitting on a bench, sipping something that Nicholas suspected would turn out to be herbal tea. 

Both glanced up without a word as Nicholas entered, relief and regret simultaneously flashing through their features.

"Boys." Their father spoke first and Nicholas trained his eyes on him. He had a few cuts and bruises and a cast on his arm, but other than that, he seemed all right. Perhaps a little shaken, but that was to be expected given the circumstances. "You're awake." He seemed surprised by this. "Nikolas, are you feeling better?"

"A little," Nicholas admitted,  coming a little closer, wary and not yet ready to sit down. "Are you..." He swallowed, his throat dry and the words he wanted to say getting stuck. "Are you both...all right?"

His parents shared a quick glance and his mother smiled faintly. 

"We are all right, Nikolas," Ali promised. "A little shell-shocked, but I think we'll be okay."

"Shell?" Nino echoed, wrinkling his nose at the unfamiliar word. "Turtle shell! Turtle at school! Tiny talking turtle!" He giggled at his own tongue twister. Nicholas had no idea what he was going on about, but then again, it was Nino and that wasn't unexpected. The six-year-old had a very vivid imagination.

"Are you sure?" Nicholas questioned. "You...aren't hurt?"

"Just our pride," Layla told him.

"And my arm might be a little stingy for a short time," Ali added. "But we'll get along, right? Nothing to be concerned about!"

Nicholas frowned. "So...no news then?" he inquired, trying to change the subject to something a little less uncomfortable. "Everything is...is okay?"

"No sister?" Nino butted in, looking disappointed at the lack of another sibling as he scanned the spotless kitchen.

Layla chuckled. "No news," she confirmed. "Everything is fine. And I'm sorry, Nino, but no little sister for you yet." She glanced up at Nicholas and winked. "And no little brother either."

It's a boy. 

Triumph sparked through Nicholas's head and he couldn't wipe the victorious grin from his face.

Nino frowned. "Why you happy?" he grumbled, prodding Nicholas in the shoulder. "No sister!"

Nicholas chuckled. "Well, you got that right, Nino. No sister."

A brother.

Ha, I win.

"But enough about us," Ali interjected, sitting down next to his wife and gesturing for his children to do the same. "You did a very brave deed today, Nicholas. And you were hurt doing so. The police told us all they could, but we'd like to hear what happened from you."

Nicholas nodded, finally lowering Nino to the ground and taking a seat across from his parents. "I'm not sure how much there is to explain," he confessed. "I was worried about you. I was afraid something might have happened. I saw the smoke from school. I came running to help. I couldn't get to you but there was another complex affected by the explosion. That girl needed help and I couldn't leave her there. She was just a kid. Like Nino." He gazed fondly at his brother who had absentmindedly wandered off to play with one of his trucks. "Um..." He turned back to his parents once again. "The girl. Is she...?"

"She's all right too," Layla assured him. "Her parents were there when you pulled her out. They ask me to thank you once you were feeling better. They boarded a plane for America soon after. They should be over the Atlantic by now."

"Tourists?" Nicholas blinked.

"Seasonal residents," Ali corrected. "Here for the summer but getting ready to head back to New York for the winter."

"Sounds cold," Nicholas commented.

"Like me?" Nino chirped.

Nicholas rolled his eyes good-humoredly. "No, Akhi, you're more lukewarm than anything. Your sarcasm is chilling."

"Thank you," the boy laughed, obviously not understanding what his brother had said.

"Anyway," Nicholas went on. "Everyone was safe?"

"Everyone," Layla agreed. "A few broken bones and some bumps and bruises, but no serious injuries. Funny enough, they said the explosion came from the upper floor which wasn't open for the public yet. It was still being constructed. I think they said they had been using it for a storage facility. I wonder what could have caused that kind of reaction though." She glanced up at her husband who shrugged, just as unsure as her. 

"It's truly a mystery," Ali agreed. "But the main thing is that you're safe, Nikolas. We were so afraid we would lose you."

Nicholas smiled faintly. They didn't mention the superhero, he realized. Not even once. He found that incredibly odd, since the man was all he could think about now. Was it possible they hadn't seen him? If so, how? He'd been there almost the entire time! There was no possible way--

--unless he was hallucinating and the entire thing had only been in his head.

"And..." he began slowly. "Did you see anything...odd...while you were being rescued?" Any guys dressed in red sporting a tail and sugar-glider under-arm wings? No? Yeah, didn't think so. I must be losing it. Yes, that's it. I've lost it and that's why I am seeing mythical dragon-men everywhere I go now. Wow, I must have hit my head harder than I thought!

Ali and Layla shared a glance. "Not...that I can recall," Ali answered. "But then again, everything happened so fast, it's all a bit of a blur."

Layla nodded. "We didn't really have time to think about it. One minute, we were in the office speaking to the doctors, the next, everything was on fire and we were being rushed off the premises. That's all we know." She frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh." Nicholas blanched, not sure he wanted to tell them everything yet, especially since they didn't already know. Plus, he wasn't even sure what he'd seen. He couldn't rightly say a man dressed up, cosplaying as a dragon, saved his life, could he? "N-no reason. I was just curious, that's all." He immediately took a step backward toward the stairs, and then another as their looks grew even more uncertain. "Um...I'm glad you're all right!" he blurted, his mind already screaming out a billion warnings about mental health and asylums as his heels hit the steps and he turned to bolt, Nino forgotten in the moment. "But...I...uh...I'm not feeling so well suddenly! Dizzy! Yes! I think I'm about to faint!" He dramatically threw himself up the stairs, feeling his parent's confused gazes following him. "Feeling sick. Bed now. Homework. Good night!"

Without waiting to hear their response, he sprinted into his room and slammed the door behind him, falling against the back of it, already inhaling and exhaling sharply as everything in his brain swirled and thumped and refused to fall into their proper positions. 

Okay.

Get it together, Nicholas.

You know you weren't imagining things. You don't imagine things. That is Nino's job. Logic. Logic and facts. That is what you know. That's your status quo. Stick with what you know. In and out. Breathe. In and out. In and--

His eyes, which had been scanning the room for something to focus on other than his crippling anxiety, suddenly fell on something small lying at the top of his bed on his pillow. 

Something he was sure didn't belong to him.

He frowned, starting over to it, passing his window, the curtain flapping fruitlessly in the wind. Nicholas shivered, unsure why the pane was open, and hastily shifted course to close it before any snow could drift into their home. 

And then he turned once more to the weird object waiting for him. It wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before. It looked like...well, he wasn't sure what it was.

Upon stepping closer he realized what it was.

It was a small box.

Shaped like a hexagon and with a bunch of strange, carved letters on the lid.

And on the top, there was a note, written in a hasty scrawl and taped jerkily onto the wood.

Carefully and suspiciously, Nicholas picked it up and read the inscription;

"To the boy from the hospital today:

Open this when you are alone.

And don't forget the pendant."

Chapter Text

Don't forget the--

Huh?

Nicholas blinked, reading the note, and then stared and read it again. Open this when you are alone. Well, there was absolutely nothing terrifying about that, then. No evil plagues or prank confetti exploding from the lid the moment he dared to lift it. That would be a cruel prank, but no one he knew would do that to him. Not, at least, anyone he was aware of.

To the boy from the hospital.

So, it had to be someone who knew he'd rushed in to save his parents. Someone who had been there at the time of the explosion. That narrowed his small list down to almost zero and left him with one very possible--yet, entirely crazy--possibility.

It had to be from the mystery hero.

But that only brought up two more questions: how had the dragon-man found out where he lived and what was in the box? Along with the more obvious; were the contents of the hexagon even safe? He knew nothing about the mystery man; who he was, where he'd come from. This was certainly not someone who had ever been on the news or Nicholas was sure he would have heard of him.

So, who was he? And why would he leave something for a kid he didn't even know?

And what was all this nonsense about a pendant?

Ain't no way was he going to wear a necklace! Absolutely not! Not happening!

Already he could hear the anxious footsteps mulling just below, hesitating, unsure whether to make an approach or a tactical retreat. He took a deep breath, settling his nerves as he fingered the miniature box. It was now or never. Sink or swim, or something like that.

Okay, maybe he was overdoing it a little. Besides, what harm could come of just opening it? Really?

If it was something horribly terrible, he could quickly slam the lid closed again and chuck it out the nearest window to get smashed under a car or something. No harm, no foul, right? Problem accounted for and handled?

Okay. He sucked in a long breath, fingers delicately brushing the lid of the box as he felt along the crease for a latch. It's just a box. An old box. It's not a nuclear missile. It's just a hollow box and that's all. What are you expecting; a grenade?

He was just being plain ridiculous now.

A creak from the hall.

And he was running out of time.

Here goes nothing then.

Summoning his courage and simultaneously questioning his sanity, he carefully took the lid and pried it open. He gritted his teeth as some of the splinters caught and required a little more force to pull free. He took great care to preserve the carvings on the outer layer. He didn't recognize them, however, leading him to the conclusion that they were not French. They looked extremely fantastical--unreal even.

Inside, the shadow of the box fell away to reveal...

...a silver-stranded necklace with a squarish golden pendant.

Great.

He recognized some kind of marking on the jewel itself, but he had only a split second to register what he was seeing as his vision was suddenly enveloped in golden-silver light and something encased in lightning swelled from behind (inside?) the necklace.

It started to rise from the black cushioning and Nicholas reacted accordingly--yelping and slamming the lid back over the necklace and throwing the box as hard as he could toward the opposite end of the room.

It hit the wall with a resounding thunk and dropped to the floor lifelessly (as a perfectly ordinary box was supposed to, thank you very much).

Nicholas stood there for a moment, glancing warily toward where the box had fallen (just be sure it wasn't going to sprout legs somehow and attack him like a Gremlin) and hesitantly taking a step toward it when he realized that nothing was going to happen.

And then another.

Suspicious of the sudden lack of motion, Nicholas crept closer, taking a seat on the edge of Nino's comforter and reaching down to snatch the box up from behind the dresser. It felt warm to the touch now, but still not dangerous. He paused for a moment to listen to the contented voices echoing from below.

No one had heard his startled exclamation.

Everything was still.

Open this when you are alone.

Okay then, round two. And this time, he was prepared as he carefully slid back the lid and the glowing orb of light exploded from the box, spiraling upwards and around his head. Nicholas winced, shielding his eyes with a hand until the glow faded and he was able to once again see his room--

--and the small, feathery being floating before his face.

Nicholas stared and two dark brown eyes peered right back at him.

And then the thing chirped.

Nicholas screamed, tumbling backward in his haste to get away, falling over the end of Nino's bed and ending up upside down in a tangle of blankets and clothes. Pain shot through his wrist as he landed against the hardwood floor and he flinched, already scrambling backward across the floor as the small being shot up over the bed to stare at him worriedly.

"AH! No! Stay away!" Nicholas cried, trying and failing to stand up, struggling a lot like a fish on land. "Get away from me, you hovering...bird...thing!"

A click of a beak and the creature paused a safe distance away, tossing its head as it gazed down at the boy sprawled helplessly before it with his mouth dropped in a silent secondary scream.

Whoa!

A tingle shot through Nicholas's brain and he started, reacting by throwing a hand up to his head, gasping as something rocketed through his spine and danced through every nerve in his body.

Take it easy! I'm not here to hurt you!

Nicholas wanted to shout--or throw something--but his body felt like ice. It felt like every muscle in his body had quit functioning upon the bird's first--telepaths? Was that what they were? Was it speaking straight into his brain? It had to be. No words had come out of its mouth.

No words should have. It was a bird.

"Y-you're...you're..." he choked out, pointing to the creature but unable to find the words to express how he was feeling; somewhere between jubilation and petrifying fear.

Please! Calm down!

The telepath again! Nicholas squeaked as the chills filled him, but he made no move to select a more dignifying position, electing to stay exactly where he was already, sprawled out confusedly before the being.

A chirp.

Much better! So glad you aren't screaming! The bird came closer. Let's try that again, yes?

"Wha--what are you?" Nicholas squeaked. "H-how did you get in here?"

A pleased ruffle of feathers was his reply. Ah! Excellent question! A wise question! Straight and to the point! I like that! Allow me to introduce myself! I am Lorr, Kwami of Wisdom. At your service, My Master. It--he, for the voice coming from the bird was definitely male--spread two large tan wings and dipped into a graceful bow. A voice coming from a floating animal that really shouldn't have been able to speak in the first place.

Nicholas didn't know what to say. On one hand, there was a hovering, golden little bird just hanging out in his room. And he seemed harmless enough, but on the other, the harmless golden little bird had just spoken to him! In perfect Arabic!

A bird!

Birds did not talk!

Not at all!

The thing--Lorr?-- cocked his head, looking thoughtfully at the teen and the alarm clock Nicholas had been fully prepared to toss as hard as he could. It was a look Nicholas understood as plain as day. Really? You're going to clock me over the head with a clock? How poetic.

The kawamy-of-the-what-who-now? Nicholas gulped, tentatively setting the device back onto the stand where it belonged. "What's...what's a kawamy?"

Kwami, came the immediate correcting tone. I am a kwami. Magical being extraordinaire at your command, my king.

"Huh?"

The creature sighed, shaking his head tiredly. Basically, I'm the genie in the lamp, as I believe you humans enjoy complicating what is already simple. There was disapproval in the bird's eyes, but Nicholas was unsure if that emotion was directed toward him or just the human race in general.

"Well...thank you...I think," Struggling to find words, Nicholas slowly began to pull himself into a more graceful position, "but I don't really feel like being Aladdin today, so...could you...I don't know? Fly back into the box where you came from so I can give you back to someone who can actually help you? Because that's not me, man."

Help me? Lorr tossed his head and extended his tail with a long heave. No, Nicholas! I'm here to help you!

Nicholas blanched. "You...know my name? Hold up, how do you know my name?"

The kwami chortled happily. I know everything about you, Nicholas Lahiffe! I am the kwami of wisdom! It is my job to know everything about my chosen!

"Hang on, slow down! Your chosen? What...what does that mean?"

You ask a lot of questions, kid, you know that?

"You said you were the kwawhatsis of wisdom, didn't you? Well, wisdom me then!"

The bird chirped in affirmation as though pleased with his choice. Very well. I shall explain. Perhaps you would prefer to take a seat? Your current predicament looks less than accommodating.

"Okay...?" Nicholas carefully heaved himself back into the end of Nino's bed, wincing only slightly as Lorr hovered closer, dark eyes boring into his, glistening with curiosity.

Allow me to introduce myself again. My name is Lorr. I am the kwami assigned for you. I appeared the moment you opened the box and touched my miraculous.

"Your...miraculous?"

The pendant! The kwami swung back around, momentarily darting behind Nicholas's line of sight only to reemerge a second later, clinging to the small box with his little talons. It was nearly the size of him, however, and he barely cleared the top of the mattress before flopping down breathlessly before the boy. It is what gives a human all of their power! You see? The moment you opened the box, you and I were connected! It's fate!

"What...kind of power?"

Oh, this is the best part! Lorr laughed. My gifts are those of wisdom, cunning, and stealth! However, since I have no...definite form...my abilities tend to shift from holder to holder! What you receive is entirely based upon what you feel you need! For example; one of my holders was a knight for the round table and he could draw a sword from thin air and produce these incredible bursts of power from his staff! And another could swing a lasso like no one else! His strength lied in his courage, however. I sense yours too is unique! You have passion and daring. You just need to learn to harness it!

"So..." Nicholas blinked, trying to process. "You're saying...that this pendant, this miraculous...would give the power to be...what? A superhero?" He thought of the man at the hospital. Had he had something like Lorr? A...kwami?

Exactly! Now you're getting it!

"So, say I...wanted a sword. Could I...get a sword?"

A boring example in my opinion, but accurate nevertheless.

"And...a bow and arrow?"

That could be arranged.

Nicholas smirked.

But, remember! Lorr cautioned. The miraculous will only give you what you really need. Do not be disappointed with what you receive. For the weight of those who carry a sword above peace is heavy. A fight does not often resolve with the use of fists and violence.

But Nicholas wasn't listening anymore. He carefully took the box in his lap, eyeing the piece of jewelry warily. It didn't look...that bad. It had a more masculine feeling to it with the braided rope chain and the square Egyptian-like pendant. He probably wouldn't get laughed at for sporting it.

None of my chosen have ever been mocked for their miraculous, Lorr huffed, fluffing his feathers indignantly. I wouldn't allow it!

And what would you do about it if they did? Nicholas thought without forming the words. Peck them to death with your beak?

I resent that comment! I'll have you know I am much too dignified to stoop to such barbaric tactics!

Nicholas started, head shooting up to stare at the bird, miraculous halfway lifted from the box. "Can you...read my mind?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, feeling very violated.

When it suits me.

"Oookkkaaayy," Nicholas exclaimed, hastily dropping the pendant back into its case and retracting his hand as if he'd been burned. "I think it's time for you to go back into your jack-in-the-box because I don't think I want to play this game anymore! No, mind-reading pigeons is too weird for me."

I am a hippogriff! Lorr squawked indignantly. I am not a filthy pigeon, you ungrateful--

"What?" Nicholas laughed hysterically. "'Ungrateful' what? What are you going to say to me, man? I didn't ask for this! I don't want you here! I don't even like birds! Why don't you go find someone who actually wants to be a...a superhero? Go bother them or something!" He slammed the box shut, ignoring the protestant screams from the bird. "And take your eye-scorching jewelry with you!" He scooped up the box and aimed it directly at Lorr.

I will not! Lorr argued, ducking under the box before spinning off to retrieve it. You need my help! Because, whether or not you like it, the world is in danger and you need me to help save it!

"Well, I hate to break it to you, pigeon-man, but I don't really give a darn about the world," Nicholas snapped back, pulling his cap lower over his eyes. "I certainly don't want to risk my neck to try and change it."

You may be able to lie to your family, your brother, even to yourself, but I know that isn't true. Lorr reappeared, dragging the box to a new home on top of the dresser. Or you wouldn't have risked your life in the way you did today to help a complete stranger.

"That's...that's...that's beside the point!" Nicholas spluttered. "What was I supposed to do, just let her die?"

And you say you have no heart.

Nicholas scowled. "I don't want to be a hero. I can't be a hero. Heroes save people. They hide their identities and pretend to be who they're not. And that's not me."

Why not? You were very heroic today. Otherwise, I would never have found you.

"Yeah." Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "How did you find me anyway?"

When someone has the kind of courage that you do, it is quite difficult to keep it under wraps.

"The dragon-man brought you here, didn't he? That's how you knew where to find me."

I know not of this dragon-man you speak of, Lorr chittered. However, that does fit the classification for one of Trekk's chosen. It is possible that it was he who brought me here to you.

Trekk. Now Nicholas understood and all of his previous confusion of code names and earpieces suddenly made perfect sense. The hero had a miraculous. And a kwami. Trekk. He had definitely been the one to bring Lorr here.

But why?

Why gift something this incredible--albeit strange--to a kid that he knew nothing about? How would he know that Nicholas wouldn't just turn him in to the armed forces or the mayor or someone just as powerful to lock him up in Area 51? (Did France have an Area 51? He didn't even know).

Because he knows you have what it takes, just as I do!

Nicholas groaned, rolling his eyes and running his hands through his unruly hair. "So, what happens now?" he demanded. "If I take you up on your offer and agree to become a superhero, what then? Do you whisk me off to some magical kingdom in need of saving to rescue princess's with incredibly long hair who, for the record, are more than capable of rescuing themselves?"

There doesn't have to be princesses! Lorr exclaimed. Princesses don't make you a hero, Nicholas! You decided to save a life. That makes you a hero.

"I still don't know about this..."

Try it on! Just for a moment! If you aren't comfortable with it after that, then we can discuss ulterior actions. Fair enough? Lorr drifted to hover above the box hopefully, already attempting to pry open the lid on his own.

Nicholas groaned, letting out his breath and moving over to stand beside the hippogriff. "And you're sure about this?" he asked, taking the box from him and opening it slowly. "One minute and then I can take it off and never put it on again?"

If it comes to that, then yes, I promise upon solemn oath and the Miraclebox, if you do not like being a superhero, after one whole minute, I will allow you to revoke me and the title of a hero and everything that stands for truth and justice  and honor  and  duty.

Even in his thoughts, Nicholas could hear the dripping sarcasm, but he brushed it aside as he carefully unraveled the necklace and draped it over his neck. It landed with a perfect thump against his chest and he drew in a sharp breath, ready to be instantly consumed with fire or magic or whatever it was Lorr did.

Nothing happened.

Lorr trilled happily, spinning through the air toward him, coming to a halt just feet from the confused boy.

Great! Now that you're wearing the miraculous, there's one more thing I need for you to do! Say, "Lorr, Wings Unfurl!"

Nicholas frowned. "What is that, some kind of catchphrase?"

Just say it. Trust me.

Trust me, he says. Trust me, the little magical being that shouldn't even exist. Nicholas scoffed. "Whatever you say, man. You're the boss here, I guess. Lorr, Wings Unfurl!"

Here we go!

There was a blinding flash of light. Lorr cooed happily as he suddenly vanished into a whoosh of golden light, diving forward into the pendant. Nicholas screamed, stumbling backward and nearly losing his balance as a cascade of power crashed over him. Charged electricity pulsed through his muscles and he felt himself moving to try and compensate the sudden jolts of heat. Hot liquid rushed along his arms, magically forming out of nothing and running from his shoulders down to his fingertips and around the palms of his hands. It was glowing golden and it felt like warm wax creeping down his appendages. Moments later, the "wax" mimicked its own actions, spreading from his arms to his torso and down over his shoes. Everything it touched was immediately encased in gold. Thick boots replaced tattered sneakers and gloves formed over trembling hands. The light then circled back for his head. The pendant still pulsing, an archer-like vest appeared around it, encompassing his chest and then crawling upwards to form something on his shoulders. His hands moved without him telling them to, wiping a strand of loose hair from his brow. He closed his eyes as the heat washed over his face and he felt something solid form around his vision.

The electricity began to fade now and Nicholas cautiously reached for whatever was on his back, feeling loose fabric sewn in just a way to--

It was a hood.

Carefully, he drew it over his hat just as the last of the magic left his body and the glow trickled once more into his pendant. The tension escaped his body and he gasped, stumbling to catch himself against the mattress. He almost cried out, but quickly bit his tongue, knowing that would alert his parents and then they would come running and this was not how he wanted them to see him.

"Lorr?" he croaked, his voice shaky as he raised his hands to investigate the spandex gloves that had taken their place. "What...just happened?"

You've transformed! Telepathed the bird from somewhere deep inside Nicholas's subconscious. Or maybe it was all Nicholas and he was just imagining the bird's voice. You've done it! You're a real hero now, Nicholas! And quite an attractive choice of attire, if I do say so myself!

"Really?" Nicholas breathed. "You think so?" The hood, the gloves, the boots; what was he supposed to be, some kind of Ranger's Apprentice?

Robin Hood, came a secondary voice from the back of his mind. Even if he wasn't planning on stealing anything from anyone, the concept was tempting.

You humans really do love your fairytales, don't you?

"Yeah...I guess we do."

Well, no time for peddling around! Are you ready to go meet the man who made all of this possible?

"Wait...you mean right now?" Nicholas panicked, running to a mirror and looking himself over. He did look a bit like an assassin, in his opinion. A dark hood, thick boots, long pants, a ninja-gi top, and the pendant sparkling ominously against his chest. "I...I don't know if I can..."

You can, Lorr assured him. You've put the miraculous on. We are bonded now. Besides, you still have forty more seconds to go and a deal is a deal.

"Ugh...fine." Nicholas rolled his eyes. "You're right. A deal is a deal. How do you plan to get of the room unseen now, Mr. Smarty-feathers?"

Simple. The window.

"The...the window?" Nicholas squeaked, turning pale. "You...you want me to...climb out the window?"

Unless you have a better idea. I assume you don't want your family to see you.

"You...assume right."

Then, yes, the window.

"Ugh. I'm regretting this already."

Nicholas sighed, standing up and tucking the box into his pocket as he moved to the window and carefully slid it open again, the cold wind whipping against his hood and sending chills down his spine.

The footsteps started up the stairs once again. "Nicholas?" came his father's voice. "Is everything all right in there?"

Go! Lorr urged and Nicholas felt the invisible push. Quickly, he vaulted the sill and landed unevenly on the fire escape. Move! Hurry!

"I'm going, I'm going!" Nicholas hissed, swinging himself over the railing and onto the next flight below just as the voice of his father entered his room, calling his name. He paused briefly, wondering if he should go back up and confess everything, but a stern reprimanding shove from Lorr kept him descending to the pavement.

"I should go back, Lorr," he muttered. "I can't...can't lie to my family. If I'm going to be this...this superhero, then the least I can do is tell them the truth!"

And do what? Lorr demanded. You're a smart boy, Nicholas. If you tell your family about me, what will happen when someone figures out that they know? You'll be putting them in harm's way every time you go out to save the world. Isn't it safer for them not to know?

He was right. Again. It was already irritating.

"Fine. Why don't I let you take the lead on this and I'll just sit back and observe from the sidelines?"

Very well. Turn left here.

Nicholas obeyed, turning down a side alley, pulling his hood further over his eyes. Shadows fell over him as he shuffled further into the sidestreet and into the next block. "Okay, Lorr, where am I going?"

Not much farther, Master. Take a right here and look up.

Look...up?

Rounding the bend, Nicholas grunted another inaudible response.

There was a blur of color from the rooftops above him and he froze in the middle of the sidewalk, illuminated by the occasional headlights of passing vehicles as his gaze w
drifted toward the sky. Bright eyes gazed back at him from the skylights and the deep rumble of a voice echoed through the streets.

"Gold looks good on you, Mr. Lahiffe. Why don't you come up and say hello? We have a lot to discuss."

Chapter Text

Nicholas hesitated, squinting up through the smog toward the armored superhuman leaning smugly against the railing of a fire escape. The overwhelming sense of power radiated from Trekk's holder and he could feel that power circulate through his own veins. Yet, there was something different between the two forces. Nicholas couldn't put a name to it, but it was still unnerving.

That's Trekk, spoke the hippogriff as Nicholas continued to stand, rooted to the pavement. Intimidation is one of the greater side effects of his miraculous. He is one of the most feared of all the kwami.

That explained it.

That man is terrifying.

"My kwami showed up in my house with no knowledge as to how he got there," Nicholas called up bravely. "I suppose that was your doing?"

There was no response from the rooftops. The eyes drifted momentarily from Nicholas to something beyond him and then back once again. Drawing a sharp breath, Nicholas continued carefully. "Why did you give him to me? I know it was you! It has to be you! But why--"

"Why don't you come up so we can talk a little more privately?" the dragon interrupted flatly. "I'm not overly fond of the possibility of Parisians knowing I exist just yet. You understand, I'm sure."

Nicholas hesitated.

It's all right, Nicholas, Lorr whispered. He won't harm you. If he'd wanted to do that, he wouldn't have let you know he was here.

Knowing what Lorr said was true, Nicholas slowly made his way over to the stairs and carefully began his ascent. The rungs were cold against his grip and he shivered, wiping snow from his gloves as he climbed. It was an odd experience, clinging desperately to the side of a building, hoping and praying he would make it to the top in one piece. He wasn't afraid of heights, exactly, or falling from them. However, he was concerned about the sudden stop.

The hero was waiting for him when he reached the rooftops and automatically stepped back to permit him room to scramble up to safety. Up close for the first time, he looked less like a sporadic blur of red and more like a human being. Covered from head to toe in red body armor and sporting a jagged black and crimson mask, the man was so much scarier than he anticipated. Thick gloves covered his hands, sporting obsidian jewels in the knuckles. His miraculous, Nicholas guessed, even before Lorr mumbled the confirmation.

"Thank you for coming tonight, Nicholas," the dragon commented and a shiver ran up the boy's spine at the chilled way his name was spoken. "I apologize for all of the secrecy, however, I am sure your kwami explained the direness of our situation and why we felt the need to involve another in our plans."

"Actually...no," Nicholas admitted. "I don't know that much at all. I figured out the whole miraculous thing and I think I understand the main gist, but I still don't get why you would let me have anything to do with this. Wouldn't it be better to keep this power and use it yourself?" That's what I would do anyway. A lot less going around with freaky talking birds mulling around in your head.

I resent that comment! Lorr squawked and Nicholas could feel the protestant tug from the invisible strand connecting them.

The hero chuckled. "Unfortunately, that is not how a miraculous can be used. It is much too dangerous for kwami to be combined. No one knows what would happen."

And that is true, Lorr added. It's one of the oldest laws of the Guild. Unifying is far too risky and holders have avoided it for years.

Guild? Nicholas frowned, though he could not see the kwami and he knew Lorr couldn't see him. What's a guild got to do with any of this?

I'll explain later, Lorr tittered cautiously. For now, perhaps it would be wise for you to get to know this--what did you call him--hero? Learn what his intentions are. Perhaps it would be wise to know what he calls himself.

"Who are you?" Nicholas blurted, his tone coming out sharper than he'd intended. He wasn't sure whether it was the bird's coaxing or his own curiosity that enabled him to do it.

Smooth, Lorr chirped.

Oh, like you could do better, Nicholas shot back.

Undoubtedly.

Nicholas fought the urge to roll his eyes as the other hero stared on suspiciously.

"Grimm," was the growled reply as the dragon once more looked to something Nicholas could not see.

"Uh...Grimm?" Nicholas echoed, turning to follow the man's gaze but seeing nothing besides a brick wall. What kind of name was that?

"Yes. As in, Grimm's fairytales? Fairies and dragons and magic galore?" The attention snapped back once again and Nicholas once again felt the sensations of dread flood his body.

"Never heard of them."

"A pity. An impressionable series. I'm sure you would find them most informative."

"All right then, Grimm," Nicholas hedged away from the edge of the roof, trying to get back on track. "Why me?"

"Because you're a hero," was the highly anticipated and cliche response. "And there aren't many of those left in the world."

Nicholas scoffed.

Grimm blinked, smiling ruefully. He wore an unreadable expression but Nicholas guessed it lingered near amusement. "You don't believe that, I take it?"

He shrugged. "I'm not really the heroic type."

"And why do you think that?" the man inquired. "What's your definition of a hero if not someone who needs it? I saw plenty of heroism in you today."

"That wasn't me," Nicholas tried to reason. "That person you saw...that wasn't really me. I don't do that."

Grimm grunted in a way that sounded very disbelieving. "Well, then, what do you call it?"

A fluke. An accident. A complete...

Happenstance? Lorr offered at his word loss. As I believe the term has been coined by the youngest generation. However, the source of the word was first used in--

Lorr? Nicholas interrupted tiredly. Lecture later, maybe?

I ramble. My apologies, Master.

"A coincidence," the teen decided. "A simple, explainable coincidence."

"Like being a hero?"

"No," Nicholas snapped, wheeling on him. "Not like a hero."

"I think the little girl would think differently."

"I'm not a hero," Nicholas repeated stubbornly. "I couldn't...this..." he held up his arms pointedly. "Doesn't feel right. It's...it's not me."

I beg your pardon!

"It's a lot to take in," Grimm agreed. "But I don't think it's anything you don't know how to handle already."

"You don't know me," Nicholas muttered.

"No, but I know of you," Grimm retorted, shifting from his position on the railing and coming to stand against a chimney instead. "I know how you care about your family, how you want to be seen as something that you don't even know, and most importantly, I know what you really desire to be."

Well, that's better than me, Nicholas thought bleakly. Because I don't even recognize myself with all of this. "How could you possibly--" he began again.

"Look at yourself," Grimm interrupted. He was getting very annoying with that, Nicholas decided. The dragon gestured to the newly transformed hero and Nicholas once again shifted uncomfortably in place. "You put on the miraculous. You chose this. Meaning somewhere inside you, even if it is extremely deep inside, you wanted this. You wanted to be this...this warrior."

Nicholas opened his mouth, the protest already on his tongue. But something stopped him. And this time, it wasn't Lorr because it was the truth. He had wanted the world to see him. Not as Nicholas Lahiffe, the social outcast, but as someone who could be loved and respected for who he really was. Perhaps this wasn't really what he'd had in mind when he'd uttered that wish that quiet night all alone in his room, but in a way, this was exactly what he'd always wanted.

I didn't ask to become this weird bird-hero! the logical side of his brain argued, even as the rest of him was like, "Yes! This is it! This is my chance! Nobody has to see my face! They don't have to know who I am! I can be free!" He didn't know what to think anymore. Fighting back Lorr's encouraging chirps, he exhaled loudly and focused his gaze on Grimm's.

"Okay, so maybe this is right. Say I believe you for just a second, what are you planning? Why do you need me?"

"The simple explanation?" Grimm answered, folding his arms, raising an eyebrow behind messy blond hair. "The world needs heroes. Civilization is so broken. People need someone to show them what to live for, to give them hope. And sometimes they need a little push in the right direction." He smirked at Nicholas and the boy frowned in retaliation.

"But there's only one of you," Nicholas pointed out, deciding not to comment on the obvious jab. "How do you intend to change the world by yourself?"

Grimm shrugged. "You'd be surprised how influential one person in the right place can be," he said. "Besides, I might not be alone anymore."

"I didn't agree to anything," Nicholas argued quickly. "So before you get any ideas--"

"I never said you did."

"But that is what you were implying, was it not?"

"Would it make a difference if I said yes?"

"No."

"Then I was not implying anything. I was simply stating that I would do well with another hero at my side."

Now it was Nicholas's turn to smirk.

"What?" Grimm snapped. "What's so amusing?"

"If you're such a great hero, why do you need help in the first place?"

"I never said I was a great hero."

"You wanted to though."

Grimm scowled, unraveling his whip and running his hands up and down the handle thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to wonder if this was a mistake." He hesitated once more, bringing a hand to his ear with a grimace, and now Nicholas could reasonably guess that Trekk was speaking.

What is he saying to him? he whispered to Lorr. He felt the ruffle of feathers and instinctively glanced down at his hands, halfway expecting to see wings forming over his appendages and a tail to sprout from his gi.

I cannot tell, Master. It is too difficult to translate.

Well, can you at least tell me if Grimm is going to let me go back to my room and forget all of this superhero insanity nonsense?

Lorr shifted again, cooing something Nicholas couldn't understand, but gave no actual response.

Nicholas frowned more deeply. Lorr?

"Look, kid," Grimm went on, seeming to finally gather his bearings and return once more to the present. "What I'm asking you to do is not easy. You're not the first to try and wield this miraculous and I have seen greater men than you try, but I do believe you have what it takes. You're...different...than the others I've met. There's something about you that I haven't seen in a lot of people. That is why I chose you."

Nicholas blinked. "You really want me to do this, don't you?"

"Yes. I mean, it would be...nice...to...have a friend. But, of course, if you don't want to, I can't force you to help me. I'm sure the world could...get along...with just one hero."

A friend.

He just wants a friend.

Nicholas froze as the boy's words hit him and he took a step back, staring up and seeing the vulnerable kid underneath for the first time. And he chose me. The wording couldn't have been more ensnaring. He didn't just choose Nicholas to be a superhero, he chose him to be his friend. And for someone who had never really had any friends, he found it very hard to refuse.

"All right, fine," he blurted after a far too long pause. "If it helps save the world, then I'll do it." Not because I think they need any help I can give them, but I can hardly turn down a gesture of friendship, can I? Especially if I don't know that I'll ever get another one.

Grimm looked disbelieving as he straightened up. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Nicholas exclaimed, throwing up his hands in surrender. "You want help with this whole superhero insanity? Then you're going to need someone to watch your back. Besides, who knows, maybe we'll actually do some good. I like punching bad guys." He cracked his knuckles pointedly.

Grimm smiled, a real, genuine smile this time. "Let's just hope it's just bad guys and not some insane monster or alien trying to rip us to shreds, right?"

Nicholas scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I think you've seen too much television. Also, no thanks. Daleks and I don't really get along."

"Dal--what?"

"Doctor Who? You know, 'Exterminate!' and--oh, never mind. I've seen talking flying animals that grant magical powers, what are evil genocide-obsessed robots compared to that anyway?" Nicholas sighed, shaking his head, trying to force himself to shut up before he weirded the other hero out too much. Don't act like that, dummy! He won't want to be friends with you if he sees what a recluse you are right off the bat!

"I think you've lost me now."

"It's not important," Nicholas derailed the conversation, trying to drag it back forcibly to the task at hand. "What's your plan now that you've gotten me to help? I mean, you have a really big goal. You must have an equally big plan."

"Don't worry about that. I have it all worked out."

"So you've mentioned," Nicholas pointed out. "But what is it? How do I fit into the puzzle?"

"Ah," Grimm straightened up to his full height and sheathed his weapon. "Now that is a complicated question with an even more complex answer which I do not feel should be answered all in one night. Another time, perhaps."

"Oh, but--" Nicholas started to protest, sensing the boy was about to kick him off the rooftops for the evening, and that there was still so much he wanted to know. Where had the kwami come from? How had Grimm gotten a hold of them?

"You ask a lot of questions, Lahiffe," Grimm sighed, stepping away and glancing toward the streets below thoughtfully. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"My six-year-old brother," Nicholas admitted. "But he doesn't like me breathing in the same room as him, so I don't think that is a reliable count."

Grimm snorted. "No, I suppose not."

"Uh...wait!" Nicholas cried as the dragon took a step closer to the edge. He paused upon the teen's request, glancing back patiently. Nicholas swallowed his nerves before continuing. "I...I don't know who you are! How am I going to be able to find you again?"

The dragon chuckled. "Don't worry about that. When the time comes, I'll find you."

And then he spread his arms and before Nicholas could open his mouth to protest, the hero spun around, folded his arms back across his chest--

--and fell backward off the edge of the roof.

Nicholas yelled in shock, rushing forward and nearly vaulting the edge also as he leaned over to search the alleyway for the boy, half relieved and half petrified to find the cobblestone blemishless. A moment later, he heard a tremendous whoop of laughter and his gaze shot upwards just in time to see the blur of red backflip onto a rooftop a few complexes down and he heaved back a relieved sigh, gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white.

What...?

How...?

Lorr, can I do that?

The hippogriff was strangely silent.

Nicholas frowned and pulled away from the edge. Lorr? You up there?

Receiving no response, he cautiously reached up to finger his pendant as he started once more for the fire escape. Maybe one day he would try traveling by rooftop. But not tonight. There had already been way too much freaky magic going on for one day. He wasn't sure he could take any more excitement.

All right, Lorr. That's enough for now. Let's go home, man.

It was only a short walk back to his apartment and few steps further to climb through his window. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, he carefully slipped inside, sliding the pane closed behind him and letting his breath out in one fell swoop.

The words to transform back are "Talons Down".

The instructions were short and to the point, but Nicholas didn't take time to consider as he heard the familiar trampling of small feet hurrying toward them. "Talons Down," he hissed, already running across the room for his mattress as the light sucked the magic from his body. The gold surged upwards and Lorr appeared with a swirl. "Hide!" Nicholas ordered as he clambered into bed and threw the blankets over his head, pretending to be asleep.

Lorr squeaked and dove for cover behind the boys' dresser and Nino's cactus--a science project for an upcoming fair.

And not a moment too soon, as Nino came barging into the room, giggling hysterically, followed closely by Ali.

"Nickie!" the child squealed, leaping onto Nicholas's bed in the futile attempt to escape his father who effortlessly plucked him into the air to herd him to his own bed. "Nickie, save me!"

Nicholas did not reply, holding the facade that he was dead asleep. And both males seemed to believe it. Soon, Ali had Nino all settled and after a whopping two bedtime stories, he beat his hasty retreat from the room, leaving them to lay in silence.

It was then that the events of the day truly caught up to Nicholas and he collapsed into his pillow with a muffled scream and refused to move for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

"Nikolas! Nikolas! Wake up! You're going to be late for school again!"

Birds chirped outside his window and below, the morning traffic alerted the sleepy city to the first lights of day, but Nicholas only groaned and rolled over, setting his headphones--filled with gentle white noise--more securely over his ears, a sleepy grin plastered on his face.

"Nicholas! Don't make me come up there and get you, young man!"

The peaceful dream of action-packed adventures in the land of magical marshmallows suddenly shattered at his mother's persistent tone and Nicholas stirred, stretching his arms just far enough to reach his pillow and stuff it over his ears. It was far too early for him to wake up. Surely there was no way that they could expect him to--

"NICHOLAS LAHIFFE, get your rear out of bed before I come up there and drag you out myself!"

And good morning to you too, Dad. Glad to see you up and cheerful this morning and blissfully unaware that I snuck out after hours last night to meet up with a man I am beginning to suspect is completely crazy who is actually not a figment of my imagination and who also happens to be a superhero and hey, by the way, I think I am a superhero too, SO glad you want me to be up and cheerful and ready for another day of monotony like always.

Oh yeah, that conversation would go over well. He couldn't even imagine his parent's reactions if he were to tell them what he'd done. They would be so upset with him which was another reason he decided he couldn't tell them anything.

But that also meant he had no reasonable excuse for being so tired as his phone wifi was set to shut off at a distinct time each night.

He rolled over with another tired sigh, twisting to block out his parents' commands and try to go back to his blissful dreams of sugar and sweets.

His father shouted something else but he ignored him. Please, just five more minutes and then I'll--OW!

Something hard and sharp suddenly plunged into his exposed ear and he shot up, swatting the offending object away with a loud yelp.

A scolding chitter resonated through the room as a blur of gold filled his peripheral and he irritably glanced over to the hovering bird who had very clearly nipped him and was finding something hilarious about that.

"Lorr!" he hissed, rubbing his head and throwing back his quilt to chuck it at the creature. "Dude! Come on! That totally wasn't necessary!"

Why do you not respond to your name? came the shrill response as the kwami darted away to hover out of the boy's reach. Is there something malfunctioning in your auditory system? Perhaps a build-up or blockage of some kind? I could take a closer look if you'd like! He eagerly rushed Nicholas's head and the boy let out an "ack!" and fell backward into his pillows, swiping at the air futilely.

"No, Lorr! I'm fine!" he huffed. "Now get out of sight before someone sees you!"

There is no one to see me, Master, Lorr answered with a tilt of his head. The young one is not present and the grown humans are downstairs and it is unlikely that they will come to this place unless you continue to ignore their summons.

"Meaning you think I should get up," Nicholas grumbled, sitting up once more and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Couldn't you have just said that to begin with?"

Yes, I could have. But you would not have been prone to listen to me as I have already deduced that you move slower than a sloth fresh out of hibernation when it comes to following orders.

"Wow, you figured that one out all on your own?"

I detect a hint of insincerity in your words, Master.

"Huh. Me being insincere. Imagine that." Nicholas grunted, swinging himself out of bed and pulling his jacket over his head, not even bothering with the zippers. "I'm going to go put in my contacts so I can actually see something. I will be gone for a minute. Just...stay hidden until I get back, would you? And try not to destroy anything?"

The kwami chirped a confirmation and took off again, gliding over to his dutiful position on the dresser, chocolate brown eyes shimmering contentedly as the teen, still muttering under his breath, made his way out the door and down the hall.

Nicholas blinked, trying to adjust to the dimly-lit hall and the loud bumps and crashes echoing from the kitchen--a clear sign that Ali was in the way again while his wife was trying to work. Kudos to him for trying to help though. At least he was trying.

Nicholas yawned, rounding the bend to the bathroom, barely raising his eyes long enough to stare at his bedraggled appearance and sleep-tussled hair, deciding he resembled something straight out of a horror movie. Ugh. I really despise mornings. Why isn't there a law banning school this early in the day? Why not a mid-afternoon day or a here-we-know-you're-just-kids-and-you're-awkward-and-some-of-you-can't-speak-French-so-we-will-give-you-a-break day? Just to keep things interesting once in a while.

No, that would be too easy. And in the almost four years he'd spent in the city, if there was one thing he had learned, it was that the teachers did not like to make it easy for him. (Well, except maybe Miss Bustier but she wasn't an ordinary teacher by anyone's standard).

"Nicholas, are you up yet?" Layla yelled again, over the audible crash of dishes and glassware.

Nicholas winced. "Yes, Ami!" he shouted back, reaching for his neon orange contact case and struggling with that for a hot minute. He swore he could hear Lorr's breathy laughter in his ear. You can't even get a plastic box open! How on earth do you expect to be a superhero?

He turned toward the door, mouth already open and ready to shoot a well-deserved retort, but the kwami was not there and he mentally smacked himself. It hasn't been a day yet and already you expect him to be there. Get a grip of yourself or you're never going to fool anyone!

There was a thump from the hall and he lifted his gaze slowly as small feet rushed up and down the corridor with no apparent purpose. Sighing and sliding in his last contact, he quickly changed and crept back to his room, ignoring the bright eyes following his every movement.

The hippogriff was waiting anxiously, hovering above his bed, pillow in his talons. Below, Nicholas stared at his perfectly straightened and organized bed and then back up to the kwami who was beaming excitedly.

"Lorr, what--"

Cleanliness is the first step to bettering your future! the kwami explained. A good day begins with a good routine! And a good meal! Time for food! Let's go! He took off for the door and Nicholas stood there for a moment, gazing at the bed in shock.

Come along, Master! I am hungry  and  you will be late!

"All right! All right! We're going, but just...slow down and...find somewhere to hide so my parents don't see you," Nicholas groaned, grabbing his backpack and stuffing his homework back inside.

The kwami nodded, diving down inside as well. Nicholas made sure not to zip it all the way closed and he could hear him shuffling through the papers and books, occasionally squeaking a syllable here and there but making no official audible words.

"So," Nicholas hissed as he carefully made his way toward the living room. "What do...kwamis...kwami...eat? Is there like a certain brand of pokepuffs or something I should just swing by the Pokemart and pick up on my way to school?"

What's a pokepuff? Lorr inquired, missing his sarcasm. Sounds delicious! But no, for the most part, we kwami are not that picky. I'll just poke around your kitchen and see if I can't find something to perk my interest. I won't be hard, I promise!

"All right, but be careful. My parents don't know about you and I don't think this is the way we want them to find out either."

I'll be cautious! Lorr assured him and Nicholas braced himself, plastering on a fake smile as he ducked into the kitchen, zeroing in on a piece of toast and a strip of bacon already sitting out on a plate for him.

"Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad," he said quickly, wolfing down the toast and clenching the bacon into his teeth, already turning to run for the door. "No time to talk. Going to be late for school. Love y--"

"Nikolas!" his father interjected and his legs immediately locked up, sending him careening forward, arms pinwheeling. "Hold on a moment! We'd like to talk to you for a minute before you go!"

Lorr moved and Nicholas could feel his facade failing as he slowly turned around to meet his parents' concerned expressions. Please don't see him. Please don't see him.

"After yesterday's incident," Layla began first, leaning over the island and brushing a strand of bangs from her eyes, shooting her husband a look Nicholas couldn't decipher. "We just...wanted to make sure that you were being safe and...not diving into trouble where there isn't any."

"We've heard from your school a number of times over the previous months," Ali added. "And they report that you've been fighting with the other students and that your grades are dropping tremendously."

"Oh," Nicholas sighed. "Listen, I'm sorry about all that. I promise I'll do better and--" There was a blur of movement and before he could move to stop him, Lorr spiraled from the backpack, sweeping down past his legs and slipping behind his unsuspecting parents. Nicholas swallowed the lump in his throat and steeled himself. He needed to buy the kwami some time, "and I'm trying to do better with my grades. I promise."

"We know it's been hard for you, moving here," Layla interrupted again. "But we want you to understand how important it was for us to leave Morocco. You and Nino deserved better than that. We wanted to give you two a better chance and France was our best choice."

You mean, Dad wanted a better job, Nicholas grouched, his eyes flicking panickedly to the sink where the bundle of feathers was floating contentedly, eyeing something that looked a lot like a bottle of syrup.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me, man! Syrup? Really?!

"We don't want to push you, but...we would just like you to try and make at least one friend before the semester is over. One shouldn't be that hard, right? You're a good kid, Nicholas, you just need to let your classmates see that. I'm sure they want to be friends with you too, but you have to let them. And no more fighting."

Nicholas groaned.

"Nikolas."

"Yes, ma'am. I promise I won't pick any more fights."

"Or throw any punches, whether or not you picked them."

"Or throw any punches, whether or not I picked them," Nicholas echoed tonelessly.

It was a lame effort, but his parents seemed to accept it anyway, sitting back and giving each other one of those we're-married-so-we-can-read-each-other's-minds looks. Nicholas frowned at them, hitching his bag further onto his shoulders and pacing in place impatiently. "Okay, now I really have to go," he urged. "The first bell is in fifteen minutes and I don't want to be late again."

Ali and Layla nodded their approval and the teen let out his breath slowly, rocking on his heels, trying to stall for as long as he could. Lorr had finally moved on from the syrup to eye this father's plate of pancakes. As soon as his parents turned away at the frantic skitters of Dozer's paws on the tiled floor, Nicholas shot Lorr a dark stare and made a slicing motion across his throat. That's enough! Get over here!

The bird obeyed, swooping down to the island behind Layla's head tauntingly.

Nicholas glared at him.

And that was the moment the massive german shepherd decided to make a frantic entrance into the room, whining and all but soaring past the humans and making a beeline for Lorr. The kwami squeaked, dashing down and weaving around the island, the dog hot on his tail feathers.

Nicholas panicked as his parents started to rise to see what all the excitement was about. He rushed forward, backpack dropping from his shoulders as he hastily yanked it open and held it out for the hippogriff to plunge inside. Dozer was only moments behind and Nicholas barely had time to retract his load before the dog was inside, tearing for the creature he knew he'd seen. Nicholas swung the bag back onto his shoulders, backing away quickly as the shepherd reared onto his hind paws, sniffing at him with a pitiful whimper, seemingly confused as to where the weird little animal had gone.

"Dozer!" his father exclaimed, hurrying over to assist, ready to pull the dog back should Dozer decide to get any grand ideas involving jumping and tackling. "What is it, boy?"

"Probably just another glint of sunlight through the window," Nicholas answered quickly, ignoring how shaky his words came out. "You know how easily distracted he is." Please believe me. Please don't let him suspect that it is something in my backpack.

"Hmm," Ali vocalized. "I suppose we probably should send him to obedience school soon. He's getting much too big to be jumping on people. And if you ever bring any friends home, we wouldn't want him tackling them, would we?"

Okay, ten seconds and we're back to that. Time for a hasty retreat, stage right. "Well, I've had my breakfast, a lovely chat about my social life or lack thereof, and now I think it is time for me to take my leave. Definitely don't want to be late, right? Yeah, uh-huh. So, I'll see you later then?" He was already backing toward the door as he spoke, hand out behind him to locate the knob.

"Have a good day at school, honey!"

Yeah, right, he thought bleakly, stepping out into the freezing cold and instantly sneezing.

Bless you, Lorr whispered.

"Thank you," he mumbled into his sleeve.

And then he shut the door behind him and began his very long trek to school.

Lorr was quiet for most of the trip there, which instantly made Nicholas suspicious, but when he leaned back to inquire what was wrong, the hippogriff denied everything and only left Nicholas looking like a lunatic talking to his backpack. "Psst," he hissed, rounding the bend and starting up the stairs two at a time. "We're here. Now, I know this might be a little bit boring for you, it is to me too, but we have to go. Do try not to get us both exposed on our first day, all right?"

As you command, Master. I will be like a snail.

As long as the snail is silent, I'm cool with that, dude. Automatically, Nicholas tucked his miraculous into his shirt and took a deep breath, letting it all out slowly as he slipped into the gym amid a crushing hoard of students, snaking through the mass chaos to reach his locker. Heaving a pile of books under his arm for first quarter, he quickly slammed the door once more and darted up the stairs to his homeroom.

Miss Bustier was there upon his arrival and she flashed him a smile which he faintly returned, sprinting up the risers to his designated seat. He could have sworn he heard his professor sigh disappointedly but he shrugged it off. Miss Bustier had always been like a second mother to him and she was probably just entering another of her motherly boughts she was so famous for.

Slowly the other students trickled in and Nicholas carefully set his books out before him, organizing them in their perfect locations--until one of his classmates walked by and intentionally knocked them onto the floor.

"Oops," he sneered, already laughing as he turned and made his way across to his seat.

Nicholas sighed and bent to pick them up, refusing to acknowledge the boy's presence as he once again arranged the papers and settled to wait for the final warning bell.

"Good morning, students!" Miss Bustier called cheerfully.

"Good morning, Miss Bustier!" the class chanted back heartily.

"Now, I'm sure you're all eager to begin your studies, but first, I would like to take a minute to welcome a very special guest student today. He's traveling with his father to explore the different cultures and ideologies of the world and today, he has decided to come here. All the way from New York City, may I present to you, Mr. Milo Astor!"

She waved a gesturing hand to the door and Nicholas squinted as a shaggy mop of blond came hesitantly through the door, blue eyes shimmering anxiously and a tight grin on his face as the room exploded into chaos, the boys gasping and the girls all squealing and nearly falling out of their seats in shock. The boy laughed forcefully and gave them all a tiny wave as he shyly crept forward to stand (read: tower) beside their professor.

Nicholas blinked, confused as to why this boy had suddenly raised such a ruckus. Lorr, who is that?

That is Milo Astor Jr. the kwami answered with a chitter. He is the son of one of the greatest and most powerful businessmen in the world. Quite the internet sensation, so I've been told. A heartthrob with the ladies as well. What your instructor says is the truth. He is on a tour of the world. How fortuitous that he would choose this school as part of his trip.

So, he's the spoiled rich kid? Perfect. Now no one will want to even look at me. Not with Mr. Perfect in the same homeroom. I'll never make any friends at this rate.

I wouldn't count him out of the mix just yet, Master, Lorr advised. He seems quite uncomfortable. Perhaps you should invite him to sit with you. Take the chance. I believe the two of you would get along just fine.

Nicholas blinked again, actually considering the kwami's words. He opened his mouth to try, but an arm suddenly found its way around Milo's shoulders and a girl tugged him away to sit with her and her friend near the front of the class.

Well, so much for that.

Lorr sighed disappointedly and sifted through his bag once more. Nicholas was really beginning to wonder what he was searching for.

"And now, on with today's assignments!"

Nicholas groaned and sunk further into his seat, sketching random notes into his journals but not really paying attention to the lesson. His attention kept moving back to the American boy and the way he kept scooting further and further away, coming so close to the edge of the bench that it was a miracle he didn't topple over.

Cheer up, Master! Lorr tried to reassure him. Maybe you'll get another opportunity to talk to him! You have classes, do you not?

Do you really think we could be friends? Nicholas inquired, leaning up to copy something off the whiteboard. Everyone tends to avoid me after all. He didn't know if he could live with the disappointment of finally putting himself out there and trying to make a friend only to be rejected. He would never recover from a blow like that. No, it was so much easier not to try in the first place.

Perhaps you just haven't yet found the right allies?

Nicholas snorted. There are no allies for me, man. I'm a loner. That's kind of the whole point.

I think you'd be surprised. You're a good kid, Master. Your parents were right about that. But being a good person will get you nowhere if you never take the chance. Talk to him. Who knows, maybe he is looking for a friend too?

Nicholas brushed that final remark away, focusing hard on keeping up with Miss Bustier's writing and not on the persistent magical being in his backpack. History, French Lit, Chemistry and then finally, the lunch bell sounded and he was left alone once more to his scheming. And this time, he wasn't going to listen to any heartfelt speeches from his teachers. He was going to stay perfectly still in his seat and eat his sandwich in peace.

Munching quietly, he absentmindedly pulled out a fresh journal and flipped to the front page, sketching something that closely resembled Lorr. So, how does this whole power thing work, anyway? he asked. You use this...necklace...miraculous thing and somehow turn me into something completely else. My clothes...do you just completely replace them or are they hidden underneath? What is my weapon? I recall you saying that I get a weapon. I didn't see one last night. Why do you have to have the miraculous and why must I keep this all a secret? What are we up against? You heard my mother. Everyone is at peace. There's no need for violence.

If you truly believe that, then why did you accept me? Lorr answered loftily. Miraculouses are to be used for defense purposes only. They are not toys. If you felt called to become my holder, then something must be happening, even if we don't know what at this time.

You made that sound a thousand times darker than you needed to, buddy, Nicholas sighed, writing all of that down in scrawled Arabic. But you didn't answer most of my questions. He tapped his pencil against his notebook thoughtfully. What about that other guy, Grimm? What powers does his kwami grant him? He had a weapon already.

Trekk is a very complicated kwami, Lorr warned. To understand him is to understand the ways of the Guild. And you are not ready for that much responsibility.

And there you go again talking about this illusive Guild. Who--what--is that anyway?

He made a mark in his book. Guild=powerhouse. Possible origin of kwami?

The Guild is what protects us, Master. We are shielded by those known as the Guardians. The Guardians are entrusted with the Miracleboxes, the home of the kwami. It is a Guardian's sacred duty to protect the Miracleboxes lest they fall into the wrong hands and evil overrun the world.

"I see," Nicholas muttered, erasing his note and quickly editing it. Guild=home of Guardians=home of kwami. And how many miracleboxes are there?

There is one for each continent, Lorr replied. The American, Chinese, European, African, and Australian boxes. Each holds a number of kwami with special abilities and gifts, just like Trekk and I.

And you two are from...?

The American box, Lorr chittered. Currently residing deep within the northern portion of the continent in one of the most massive and well-disguised cities in the world.

All right, so how did you get all the way to Paris then?

Well, I suspect we were brought here--

I guessed as much.

--by accident, Lorr finished, going on as though he hadn't been rudely interrupted. In fact, I am not aware of how I arrived here myself but--

"Um, excuse me?"

A timid voice interrupted their telepaths and Lorr sharply dove for cover behind the desk as Nicholas startled and glanced up in a panic to see a tall lanky figure standing a step down before him. Anxious eyes watched him from behind a mess of curly blond and even from where he sat, Nicholas could feel the tension radiating off of him. "Uh...hello?" he tried, unsure what to say now that he was actually face to face with the American.

"You...probably don't remember me, do you?" the older boy said gently, looking somewhere between moderately comfortable and extremely, one-hundred-percent ready to run for the hills. "We...ah...we met briefly...a couple of days ago?"

Nicholas froze, trying to play back his mind to recall when he might have ever seen this boy. No such recollection came to him.

Nicholas shook his head. "N-no, I'm sorry," he confessed. "I don't recognize you."

"That's okay," Milo said, giving him a timid smile. "You were in a bit of a rush. But you promised you'd show me how to ride a skateboard some time."

"Oh." Nicholas nearly leaped to his feet at that and the blond grinned a little more sincerely now. "That...that was you? Oh, oh, I'm sorry again! Really, I--"

"It's okay," the blond repeated. "Really. I...I'm not upset with you. May I..." He gestured to the open seat next to him. "May I sit down?"

"Uh...sit...down?" Nicholas's mind broke and it was all he could do to continue staring at the boy as though he had suddenly sprouted a second head.

Master! Lorr hissed from the safety of his bag.

"Oh! Oh, right! Um, yes! Yes, please! Sit down!" He sounded way too eager, even to himself.

"Thank you," Milo said gently, waiting as Nicholas hastily scrambled to collect all of his books and push them to the side. "I like your picture there," he added, pointing to the rough sketch of Lorr that Nicholas had been absentmindedly drawing. "Is that some kind of falcon?"

"Um, no," Nicholas lied quickly. "It's...it's actually something I'm...working on for...for a new comic book. Yeah, I'm really big into fantasy and so, I thought, why not make an entirely new species? And...and I'm rambling. I'm sorry." His gaze sunk to his hands as he scooted over to make room for the boy.

"No need to apologize," Astor told him. "It's not a bad thing. You're passionate about what you love. That's a good thing. Have you ever read the Grimm Fairytales? If you like fantasy, that might be right up your alley."

Nicholas stared at him. "Actually..." he said slowly. "A friend recently suggested them to me. I haven't had a chance to look into them though."

Milo smiled. "You should. They are really good. I'm Milo, by the way." He stuck out his hand. "Milo Astor. But just Milo is fine. Unlike my father, I'm not really fond of long names."

"Nicholas Lahiffe," Nicholas replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "But Hey-You-Dope-Kid-Over-There works too."

Milo laughed. "I think I'd better stick with Nicholas. I don't know if I can remember all of that."

"I'll take it," Nicholas answered, smiling now too. "So...uh...what brings you to Paris and...um...our school?"

"I'm on a fieldwork project for college," Milo answered simply. "Visiting different schools and learning various teaching methods. I'm training to be a professor myself and I think learning how the rest of the world teaches will be a great benefit to me. And, when I am not being run down by overeager teenagers, I am sightseeing. Paris is so much different than New York City and I want to see everything. What about you?"

Nicholas looked at him. "What about me?" he repeated.

"Oh, come on, you think I didn't notice the moment I walked in? You're one of those."

"Uh...one of those?"

"A loner, outcast, a one-man show," Milo explained. "It was kind of hard not to see how the others treated you. I'm guessing you don't get along too well, right?"

"Not really," Nicholas admitted, though why he was confessing this to a guy he'd literally met two minutes ago, he wasn't sure.

"Hmm," the boy hummed. "And do you know why that is?"

Nicholas glanced up at him in confusion. "No?"

"It's because you're different," came the response. "Something about you is different from them and people can't handle different. I think you are incredibly kind, a little awkward but not so much that you don't make an effort though, and you have mad artistry skills. And I think these other kids are crazy to not want to be friends with you."

"You really think that?"

"Yeah, I do," Milo answered. "You just need to stand up for yourself a little more. Show them that you're not afraid of being different. Embrace it. They'll come around. Trust me. I've been told I'm a highly reliable source." He winked, beginning to slide back out of the desk now.

"Oh...uh...wait!" Nicholas called, blurting the words before he could stop himself.

Milo paused. "Yeah?"

"I've...never really had any friends," Nicholas rattled on. "But...I guess, what I wanted to say was...thank you. For...for listening and...not running away screaming or laughing or--"

Milo smiled. "There's no need for thanks, Nicholas. You are a special boy and besides, that's what friends do, right? Listen? I think you're going to be just fine."

"Uh...thank you?"

"Of course. Now, I should let you get back to your comic. I get first dibs on beta-ing when it's complete, though, right?"

"O-of course! W-what are friends for?" Nicholas stammered, trying not to scream internally, knowing he was never going to finish the comic book because there was no comic book in the first place.

Milo grinned bolder. "See you around, kid." And with that, he swung his bag onto his shoulders and started off down the highrise and out the door into the lunch hour chaos.

"Yeah," Nicholas muttered, watching him go. "See you around."

Good work, Master! Lorr chirped, popping back into view the moment the coast was clear. That went better than I anticipated! I'm proud of you!

I'm not, Nicholas sighed, carefully setting his books back out for the next class. That was much too close, Lorr. I need to be more careful! He could have recognized you from my drawing and what if he is the bad guy that we are supposed to be defeating? He could come after me now because I have you!

I think you're being ridiculous, Master! Lorr argued. I'm sure that boy isn't the 'great evil!' I think you're just afraid because he actually wants to be your friend!

I am not! Nicholas protested. How dare you! I can make friends! Did you not see what I just did?

I saw, Lorr cooed. The question is; did you?

I saw, Lorr, I saw. Before Nicholas could say more, the final bell rang, and his classmates slowly began to trickle back into the room, followed by a very stern science teacher. The smile quickly faded from his lips as he set about to find his mathematics textbook and turn to the proper page.

It was not until much later, as he was walking down the large marble steps, headphones strapped to his head and thrumming out a deep base, that he took time to consider something he should have before.

Milo Astor had been an American. According to Astor during their previous tumble on the sidewalks, he was unable to speak more than a couple of words in the French language.

But, yet, Nicholas had just had an entire conversation with him.

And he had understood every word.

Chapter Text

What happened back there? Nicholas hissed silently, keeping his head low and forcing himself not to glance back at his bag--especially not now that there were other students emerging from the gym behind him. He could feel the shuffle from his books and that only spurred him on. I understood everything that Milo said and I didn't once have to translate into French to respond! That is not normal and I know you had to have had something to do with it!

It's called Omnipotence, Lorr replied calmly--a lot more calmly than Nicholas was feeling at the moment. As I told you before, every kwami can leave side effects on their holders. Trekk's is intimidation, mine is the ability to understand and translate every language known to mankind. You may not have known what Astor was saying, but Omnipotence allowed you to hear his words in your native tongue and for him to do the same for you.

Well, that seems...oddly appropriate, Nicholas granted. Did you know...before...that...that I couldn't...you know?

I had no knowledge of this possibility prior to bonding with you, Master. Many of my flock have not...required such an extensive branch of my abilities. You, Nicholas, are a special case. One I sense may be able to put my magic to better use than those of the past.

And why do you think that? Nicholas inquired, pausing at the crosswalk, watching and waiting with slight impatience for the light to change. A bell jingled from up ahead and he carefully raised his gaze, spotting a small colorful building on the opposing corner of the street and paused, the sweet aroma of fresh pastries drifting across the road and striking him head-on as the door was opened and a stream of people exited. The sign above the door distinguished the corner market as a bakery, though Nicholas had guessed that already by the heavenly scent of dough. Hold that thought, Lorr. Do you smell that?

I am a hippogriff, Master. I have very tiny nostrils.

Oh, come on! You can't tell me you don't smell that! It's amazing! Come on! Let's go take a look!

But, Master, you have no money.

Nicholas waved him off. You don't need money to browse, buddy. That's so weird though. I've been down this way a hundred times and I never noticed there was a bakery there!

Perhaps these last couple of days have made you more in tune with your surroundings, Lorr suggested. When before your main focus was avoiding as much human contact as possible.

Yeah, still not focusing any less on that, though, Nicholas reminded him. The light changed and he hurried among the pedestrians, ducking and weaving until he was safely on the other side and it was clear for the vehicles to turn.

The entrance to the bakery was right around the corner. Nicholas quickly checked his watch. He'd promised to be home in time to help with dinner and watch Nino for the evening while his parents got some work done (meaning he would take his brother out for ice cream or to play in the park or something for an hour or two. Just long enough for his father to catch up on some paperwork and for his mother to get some relaxation that she greatly deserved). It was only a little after three. He had time for a quick run-through. Perhaps he could convince his parents to come back with him one day so they could actually buy something.

The bell above the door gave another friendly tingle as he pushed inside. Instantly, he was hit with dozens of different smells. Several he could make out right away, such as the sourdough perched high on a stand in the far left and the cupcakes, fresh from the oven, on the right. The store was hopping, though, and he had to duck out of the way of several customers as they crowded the main counter, cash in hand and ready.

Taking a breath to qualm his flaring social anxiety, Nicholas slid off to the side of the store, removing his hat politely and running a hand through his messy hair, wishing he'd taken the time to comb it at least once before he'd run out the door like a blazing maniac.

Fortunately, no one seemed to pay him any notice--or were far too busy to do so--and he was free to wander among the shelves, eyeing the number of delicacies available. Eventually, he decided he wanted to try the chocolate cherry lava cake. He had no idea what a lava cake was at first, but after pulling up a description on the web, he decided anything made of devil's chocolate, overflowing with cherry goodness had to be manna from heaven.

I have come to the conclusion that you channel your anxiety by consuming unhealthy amounts of carbs, Master, Lorr said gently. Perhaps that is something we should begin working on. A more restricted diet might fare you better in the future, both for your health and tactile advantage on the battlefield.

Oh, pipe down, Lorr, Nicholas shot back crossly, his mouth already watering as he daydreamed what the cake might taste like. I hardly think one cake is going to get me killed.

No, but one does not often cease after the first, Lorr warned. You must be careful not to ruin your nutrition or your body will not take well to the changes I grant you. Sugar is not the solution to your problems. May I suggest you try facing up to what you're afraid of instead of hiding behind these pastries?

Spoilsport, Nicholas grumbled, but still, he made a note on his phone to ask his parents about buying him one of these for his birthday. It was still several months away but he would wait if that was what it took. You're worse than my mother, you know that?

I am simply looking out for you. I have your best interests at heart.

Sure, buddy, sure. Nicholas sighed and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Besides, he added glumly. How am I supposed to face up to myself?

The kwami gave no answer to that and only chirped gently, in a manner Nicholas supposed was intended to be calming. He didn't find it to be so, but he didn't tell Lorr that, averting his gaze once more to examine the rows upon rows of choices before him. He was so fixated on the different options, that he didn't see the line quickly disperse or hear the footsteps approaching until they were nearly upon him.

"Can I help you with som--oh, Nicholas! It's you! Well, hello there, son! You're quite the surprise, aren't you?"

The boy started, squeaking and spinning to face the owner of the voice. "M-mister Dupain!" he exclaimed, recognizing the face and smiling beam instantly. "I...I...ahlan! I...I was just looking and I guess I got lost and wandered in and--" he rambled, unsure how to explain what he was doing there all alone and without any money.

Tom laughed heartily. Nicholas nearly jumped out of his skin. "It's quite all right! We don't mind! Besides, you're not the first innocent civilian to be lured inside by the smell of fresh pastries! If you were, then we'd be out of business, right, dear?" He twisted behind him and Nicholas stared as Sabine wandered over, carrying a box of macrons and smiling warmly in his direction.

"That's right!" she agreed wholeheartedly. "And you are welcome in our store whenever you want, Nicholas, so there's no need to be bashful!"

"Oh, I, uh--" Nicholas started again, unsure how to respond to that. "Thank you?" he tried, this time hearing the foreign words leaping from his mouth. Perfect French. Wow, that is so weird! It actually works!

Told you so, Lorr snarked.

Nicholas beamed widely, much to the confusion of the two bakers, and realizing this, he quickly tried to compose himself. "Oh, yeah, uh...I was just...admiring your...ah...pastries and you have...so many to choose from!" he stammered once again, fighting the urge to bite down on his tongue to shut himself up.

Sabine smiled brighter as she set her box down and folded her hands neatly. "Yes, I suppose we do. But then again, it's hard to tell what someone will like until they taste it, right?"

"For example; did you know that the kind of dessert a person likes is often linked directly back to their personalities?" Tom blurted and Nicholas braced himself this time, only jumping about half as high as before.

"Isn't that what the ice-cream guy on the river does?" he inquired cautiously, afraid of offending them with the comparison. He didn't mean to imply that they were copying him.

"It's very similar!" the man rushed on, not seeming at all put-off. "It's actually a scientifically proven fact that certain personalities are drawn to particular flavors! Go on! Try it! Pick anything in the shop! Anything!"

"Oh," Nicholas glanced around, "but don't you need to help your customers? I don't want to keep you away. You look extremely busy, so--"

"Nonsense!" Tom exclaimed. "We can simply multitask! Now, come on, give it a try!"

"Okay?" I guess I have a little time. He didn't get it, but he figured the least he could do was humor them after they'd been so kind to help him out when he'd needed it. "Uh..." He scanned the room. "The lemon pie," he tried, pointing to one of the highlights on the high stand. "What personality is that?"

"Lemon is the flavor of peace," Sabine answered before her husband could open his mouth. She nudged him in the side and Tom laughed nervously. "It's often chosen by those who wish to avoid the conflict of chocolate or vanilla. Someone who selects lemon is typically shy and uncertain about someone or something in their life. It is a strong comfort flavor."

"I see...and...the strawberry?"

"Strawberry is the choice of those with a deep passion," Ms. Cheng went on sweetly. "It is the cake of love and affection. It is the top choice for a valentine's gift and is one of our greatest hits in the summer, but not so much in the fall and winter."

"Okay...so...what about..." He trailed off, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to the lava cake and the married couple both chuckled, sharing a knowing glance and a subtle wink they didn't think he noticed.

"Now that one is designed for a more courageous soul," Tom explained, cutting his wife off excitedly. "It is often chosen by those who withhold a dark streak in their past--or by someone who is trying to pretend to be something they're not." He raised an eyebrow at Nicholas and the boy gulped, taking a half step away and bracing himself to turn and run.

Master! Lorr squawked in alarm, his voice rattling through the teen's head like a pinball. Do they know? How did they figure it out?! You haven't said anything that would have alerted them to me, have you?

I don't...I don't think so! Nicholas replied, his thoughts panicky, desperately trying to remember anything that he might have said that might have tipped them off. Nothing sprang to mind, considering the last time they had seen each other had been before Lorr magically popped up in his bedroom. I don't know how they figured it out! I didn't say anything! How did they figure him out so quickly? What was going to happen to him now?

"Oh, dear, you're so pale! Was it something we said?" Sabine asked worriedly. "We didn't mean to upset you!" She moved quicker than he could track, taking his hand and guiding him over past the counter to the back room. "Have a seat down here for a minute," she offered and he made no movement to protest. "Catch your breath. You look a little like you might be sick. The bathroom is straight down the hall, first door on your left."

"Merci," Nicholas forced out as the kindly bakers looked on for a moment before a sharp bell drew their eyes back to the front of the store.

"Oh, my, it looks like we have customers," Ms. Cheng went on gently, patting him on the shoulder amid his frantic inhalation and exhalations. "You just sit there as long as you need, Nicholas. Take your time and relax. There is no rush. Before you leave, come up to the registers. We have something we'd like to give you to take home."

He nodded, his mouth dry, watching as they turned to hurry back to their customers. "Lorr," he hissed aloud. "Did they..."

I'm not sure, Lorr replied, poking his beak out of the backpack. I do not detect anything that confirms their knowledge of me, however, their choice of words was highly suspicious.

Well...maybe it was just a coincidence, Nicholas tried to reason. He didn't want to believe the kindest adults he had ever met were out to get him. He certainly didn't believe in coincidences, but he wasn't sure what else it could be. Finally, he settled on the conclusion that the Dupain-Cheng's couldn't possibly know about Lorr and he had to be making the whole thing up in his head because just thinking about it was giving him a serious migraine. I'm sure that's all it was. We're panicking over nothing.

If you say so, Master. Lorr ruffled his feathers before ducking back down into the bag to scope out something Nicholas couldn't see. You are better in the realm of human emotions than I.

Not really, Nicholas scoffed. Never been very good at the whole emotion thing. You and I are kind of in the same boat there.

I do not understand, Master. I see no water, nor do I see a boat.

Forget it, Lorr. It was just an expression. Nicholas leaned up to peer around the corner, spotting Ms. Cheng as she hastily grabbed a box to fill with multicolored cupcakes. Man, the cakes looked so good.

I think you might have an addiction, Lorr noted, poking his head out of the bag once more to blink at him seriously.

I disagree, he argued immediately.

And I thinketh thou protesteth too much.

What does that even mean?!

Lorr looked ready to explain further, but hasty footsteps bolting down a back staircase sent the kwami ducking back for cover and Nicholas jumped at the blur of blue and pink that all but barreled into him, sending him careening backward and staring up into excited wide blue eyes and hopeful arms of a certain little girl who was beaming up like Christmas had come early.

"Whoa!" Nicholas exclaimed, grabbing his bag and leaping forward to catch the child as she tripped on the final step and pitched forward with a yelp. She fell perfectly into his arms and he scooped her up, breathing a sigh of relief as she giggled happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and nestling in with no intent to move any time soon. "Uh...hi?" he tried, steadying himself and wincing as Lorr gave a squawk of displeasure, thrown roughly against his shoulder blades.

Marinette giggled. "Again! Again!"

Nicholas adjusted his hold on her. "Um...maybe some other time," he spluttered, unsure how to get the little girl to release her hold. Lorr continued to grumble but only in Nicholas's head. Ow! he yelped. I think I twisted a wing! And a beak! And a claw! And--

Okay, okay, enough! I get it! I'm sorry! Nicholas sighed, shifting his backpack and feeling the kwami flit away from the edges, still grumbling unsaid thoughts. But it wasn't like I could just let Marinette fall, could I? You don't like it when kids get hurt, remember?

Yes, I recall this, Lorr grumbled. But next time, could you maybe warn me before you lunge haphazardly and crush me under a mound of books?

No promises, Nicholas replied, but I'll try.

With a forced smile, he gently set Marinette down and glanced nervously toward the kitchen. Fortunately, her parents were so busy filling orders that they hadn't noticed Marinette's fall and she didn't appear to be shaken up, giggling and running off to play with something else. For a moment, his eyes trailed her and he had half a mind to follow her just to make sure she wasn't going to get into trouble, but then he shook that thought away. He wasn't a babysitter. Besides, he doubted there was anything dangerous just lying around for her to get into.

Remind me, Master, that if you ever reach the point that you decide to have kids of your own, to firmly talk you out of it.

Thanks, man. Really appreciate it.

Letting out his breath and making sure he had a firm hold on his hat, he reemerged from the kitchen, earning a beaming smile from Tom as he handed a customer their order.

"Oh! Here you are, dear!" Sabine called after him and he turned, the large box already thrust into his arms before he could process what it was. "Now, try to save some for the rest of your family, would you? And be safe on your way home!" And then she was off again to help someone else and Nicholas was left standing there awkwardly with a box and no explanation.

Well? Lorr prompted. Aren't you going to at least open it?

Weary of overstaying his welcome, Nicholas hurried back out of the shop, ducking down around a group of tourists and sliding in against the side of the building to catch his breath and open the box.

Inside, he found the biggest cherry and chocolate lava cake he had ever seen in his life.

Oh dear, his kwami commented.

"Oh, yes!" Nicholas exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down for joy. "Yes, yes, yes! Lorr, do you know what this means?"

No, but I suspect it has something to do with sugar, which is often followed by a sugar high which results in a sugar crash during which you are of no use to anyone until your body can recover.

You're just completely against having a good time, aren't you?

That depends on your definition of a "good time". For example, I find thunder-bathing in an ultimate hurricane to be quite enjoyable. Perhaps I can show you sometime.

Thunder--You know what? Forget I asked. You're weird, man. So weird.

And that was all he got to say on the matter as the earth decided that moment would be an excellent time to give a spasm to the entire city.

"Whoa!" Nicholas cried, falling back against the wall as the sidewalk underneath him vibrated. It was a controlled blast of force that quickly pushed away from him and sent an array of cars further down into panic mode. Almost by instinct (or was it the hoard of screaming people running his way? It was hard to tell), his head snapped back the way he'd previously come and he braced himself to be overrun once again with the panicking flock of yore.

Oh, great. Not this again.

What happened? Lorr asked and his holder could feel the curious tug against his consciousness as the bird poked warily from the bag to stare in the same direction at the boy.

I'm not sure, Nicholas admitted, wincing as someone hit him hard in the shoulder before running on. I can't see any smoke from here.

We have to get closer.

Nicholas swallowed hard. Normally, he would have questioned the kwami's sanity but he knew what the hippogriff was saying was right. They were too far away and it was impossible to tell what had made the quake from where he stood.

Okay, he thought, raising himself onto his tiptoes, bouncing up and down to see around the heads of the fleeing crowd. Okay, Lorr, brace yourself. I'm about to do that thing you don't like.

There are a lot of things I don't like. Do you think you could be a little more specif--ACK!

Before he could finish that thought, Nicholas had already tightened the straps of his backpack and made a beeline back up the street--in the opposite direction of the fleeing civilians. "Excuse me! Sorry! Pardon me! Coming through!"

Move it! Lorr added loudly in his brain. Get out of the way! Super hero alert! Part like the Red Sea!

Although it was doing absolutely nothing to help, Nicholas appreciated his kwami's assistance. The briefest ghost of a smile brushed his lips as he ran. The wind was whipping through his hair and bashing his face, but he didn't care. He'd never felt so free. Nor had he ever run so effortlessly. He chalked that up to Lorr as well.

Onto the rooftops! the kwami snapped suddenly, two blocks later, and Nicholas ran to obey, locating the nearest fire ladder and heaving himself over it. He reached the top in a matter of moments and he carefully hurried across the other side, hearing the sound of shouting echoing from below.

Dropping to one knee, Nicholas carefully set his cake down on the roof beside him and peered over the edge to see what all the commotion was about.

His eyes widened as he spotted four men dressed from head to toe in black, all carrying huge black duffle bags and armed with gigantic weapons. Four assailants, and...as his eyes swerved to the other end of the alley--

Two hostages.

Standardized procedure for a bank heist.

Oh, I think those are bad guys, Master, Lorr observed. I hardly doubt that money belongs to them at all!

Nicholas couldn't agree more. He could hear police sirens in the distance, but from where he stood, he could easily hear the argument below. The crooks were angered by something. There was no way the cops would get there soon enough to save those people.

Say, Lorr, he commented, taking a step back from the ledge to crack his knuckles. How do you feel about busting up some bad guy jaw?

I would like to remind you that you promised your mother that you wouldn't fight, Lorr responded cautiously. He reemerged fully from the bag now to hover beside the teen. Are you sure you know what you are getting into?

Yes, I did promise that. But that was for the school bullies. These guys need taught a completely different lesson. Nicholas hastily retrieved his miraculous and let it dangle around the collar of his coat, letting out his breath as he stared venomously at the thieves.

Very  well, if that is your  wish . You know the  words , Master. Let's see  if  you can put  your   fists  where  your  mouth is.

Oh, I can. Just watch me.

He spread his arms, inhaled sharply, and almost yelled the fateful words for all the world to hear

"Lorr, Wings Unfurl!"

Chapter Text

The transformation washed over him, more rapidly than before, which was fitting as Nicholas wasted little time, vaulting the roof effortlessly and dropping straight down into the midst of the thieves. The last of the golden light faded as he landed in a stance that would have gotten him laughed out of the city had the situation not been so serious. He slid between the first hostage and the man pinning her with his weapon (it didn't look exactly like a gun, but it wasn't like anything he had ever seen before either, so perhaps a rifle was the most accurate term he could give to it), already ready to defend them if anyone decided to get trigger-happy.

"Let them go!" he shouted bravely, dropping into a tight defensive position as the rest of the robbers whirled, suddenly realizing their grand escape hadn't been so grand after all.

"Nice costume, kid. Who on earth are you?" the head of the gang snapped, seemingly unconcerned about the superhero braced to attack. This wasn't extremely surprising, as Paris had never had a superhero before and no one had thought to roll out the red carpet for him upon his arrival. Oh, well, he would just have to make this entrance count, then.

Four weapons clicked around his head and Nicholas only grinned, taking a step back and spreading his arms, his gaze never faltering from the man who had spoken, even as he sensed the other three moving to come him from all sides. He heard Lorr's whispers of warning in his subconscious but he pushed them away. This was just another backstreet brawl. He knew how to handle himself. Goodness knows he'd had to do it enough times over the past years.

"I'm the guy who's going to make you let these innocent people go and return all the money that you stole." Fury laced the hero's words, knowing from previous experience that the men would absolutely not do what he'd requested.

And he was right. They laughed, quietly at first but that pleasantry did not last long as they shared a disbelieving glance, one that spelled trouble for Nicholas. "Oh, really?" the boss--whom Nicholas had dubbed Talker (for obvious reasons)--sneered. He took a step forward and Nicholas braced himself for the strike. "And what are you gonna do, boy? There are four of us and only one of you."

"Four to one, huh?" Nicholas jeered, gloved hands clenching to fists as he weighed his options. On one hand, he had the advantage of incredible agility and speed. On the other, they had weapons and he did not. "Okay," he said, smirking as he called their bluff. "I like those odds."

He really needed to talk to Lorr about the whole weapon thing because this was totally unfair.

"Big talk for such a small runt," spoke another of the robbers and Nicholas heard the distinctly feminine voice from his left. "Let's see if you say the same once I blow your brains out!" 

Nicholas chuckled. Oh, don't worry. I won't give you that chance. The weapon fired and he jerked away automatically, biting down on his tongue to prevent the yell of surprise from exploding out as the blast erupted from the mouth of the gun--a blazing, charged, blue blast of power that was entirely not a bullet--and whizzed into the nearest wall, evaporating instantly upon contact.

What in the world is that?! he screamed and he felt Lorr's panic mirror his own. He spun back into a firm preparatory stance, staring down the weapons--and the crater created by the blast; absolutely not what he'd anticipated come out of them. Dude, what WAS THAT?

He had little time to hear a response from the bird as another shot was fired and he was forced to backflip across the uneven pavement to dodge--a feat he hadn't even known he could accomplish. He landed on his feet, already whirling around to hasty footsteps and another cartridge of blasts. Nimbly, he dropped into a breakdancing position, narrowly avoiding two shots aimed for his head before sidestepping to the left. The third discharge whistled past his ear and exploded into the side of a building. The structure shook but remained upright. Minimal debris rained down in him and he shook them away, focusing on the steady thumping in his chest. 

Stay alert! These guys are not here to play! Lorr warned and Nicholas agreed. 

I really could use that sword right about now! the boy growled, trying to position himself once more on the defensive. He wanted to be on the offensive, but that didn't seem like it was likely to happen at this pace.

No sword! Lorr suddenly snapped fiercely. Your tail! Use your tail!

USE MY WHAT? Nicholas roared, maneuvering around one of the thieves and parring a punch thrown for his face.

You have your weapon! Lorr commanded. Use it!

What weapon? Not sensing any powerful swords forming at his hips and not knowing what else to do, Nicholas granted himself a brief glance over his shoulder, jaw dropping as he saw the swooping tailfeathers for the first time, attached to the back of his cloak and sweeping down to brush the asphalt, curling outwards like some kind of regal bird. Near the ends, the solid gold fabric melted away to several sharp, round edges. They weren't quite bird-like. They were more like-- 

Daggers, he realized, choking with shock and jubilation. I have a tail made out of daggers!

He was Nicholas Lahiffe, he was a superhero and he had rectrices made of daggers.

That was almost as cool as a sword.

A blast nearly took off his shoulder and he veered sharply to the side, dancing out of the way, drawing a breath and taking in the entire situation with a single glance. The robbers were circling him like wild animals coming in for the kill. He heard the buzzing he'd quickly associated with one of the weapons being reloaded and his eyes instantly snapped to the perpetrator.

He grinned.

Gotcha!

The man had no warning. Letting out a war cry, Nicholas turned on him, lunging so fast and knocking the weapon from his hands, that he had no time to fight back against his assailant. Nicholas easily overpowered him, yanking his wrists behind his back and sending him flying over his shoulder onto the pavement.

The other three moved in for the kill, weapons active and firing, all thoughts of their hostages and the money forgotten in the heat of the battle.

Grinning as the power coursed his veins, Nicholas used a series of fancy steps to simply spin out of the way. Okay, Lorr! Time to test these babies out! Before the robbers could move to intercept, he twisted back and plucked a blade from the fluffed "tail", stiffing slightly as he felt the gentle tug against his back, as though it was an actual tail. He twirled the knife between his fingers for a moment before chucking it as hard as he could at one of the men. It struck dead on and the man pitched forward, screaming and clutching his lower calf, dropping to the ground and rolling across the road, howling words Nicholas's mother would hit him over the head with a pan for uttering.

Nicholas spun around another blast and launched a second blade. This one embedded itself in the woman's blaster, disabling it immediately. She threw it aside and reverted to brute force, lashing out with a kick. It connected and Nicholas gasped, hitting the ground and rolling, the breath yanked from his lungs as he landed down against the wall of a building hard enough to see stars.

"Courageous," the woman spat, standing over him, "but foolish. You don't know who you are dealing with. You should never have crossed us, bird." Talker handed her his weapon and she triggered the loading sequence, pointing the barrel straight down at him.

Nicholas had no idea what the laser guns contained, but he was definitely sure that he did not want to get hit by them, at least until he knew for sure how much charge the blasts were outputting. 

Your ability! Lorr shrieked. Master, use your ability! Talonblade! Call on it now!

Call on it?! This isn't Jumanji, dude! I can't just call on a weapon and expect it to listen to me!

No time to be smart with me! You're about to be incinerated! Do it!

The woman pulled the trigger without a shred of hesitation. The blast erupted from the barrel in a blaze of blue and white light, illuminating the clearing and allowing Nicholas to see the fear in the civilians' eyes clearly for the first time.

No! I can't go out like this! I'm a hero now! And a hero can't be defeated by a bunch of lousy thieves! Despite his brave protests, he knew he was still a kid and still vulnerable.
He screamed and threw his arms over his eyes, already forming the words even as he prepared for the excruciating pain. "Ahhhh...TALONBLADE!"

Yes! He heard Lorr squeal, but that was the last thing he comprehended as he felt bolts of electricity suddenly explode through his arms and wrists, shooting down to his fingertips. He cried out and the woman jerked back in surprise at the swell of golden majesty erupting from his hands, sliding out and condensing into something more solid in his palm.

A hilt.

And that wasn't all. The glow expanded, spiraling upward and around his fingers. The shimmering form of a curved blade emerged from the magic, twisting upward and rounding off at a point as the light began to trickle off, leaving him lying there, holding the end of a very large saber, decked out in gold and silver markings and a platinum hand-guard. 

A sword. He had gotten his sword after all. 

Time skidded to a halt. He glanced up, seeing the power blast speeding toward his face. The beginnings of a second scream threatened to tear right out of his chest.

NICHOLAS! 

Lorr shrieked and it was like an invisible force took hold of the boy's body. Instantly, his arms moved to respond, swinging the blade through the air in front of his face, intercepting the ball of electricity, literally slicing it in half. He watched in horrified amazement as the two halves fell apart and crackled off to non-existence on either side of him. 

"Whoa..." he breathed, struggling to stand as the thieves looked on, their faces filled with shock. But the puppet master was not yet finished with Nicholas and the teen yelped as he was forcefully thrown forward. His hands wrapped around the gun and yanked hard, ripping it from the woman's grasp. With two powerful slashes from his weapon, the blaster was no more and for the first time, he felt victorious.

And now, I think it's time to teach these guys a lesson they won't forget. 

Be cautious, Master! Lorr berated. Don't get so riled up! You're liable to make mistakes this way!

But he was no longer listening to the kwami. Feeling the invisible strings of control fading away from his limbs, he shook off the last of the sticky webs and twirled his blade, feeling it spin lightly in his hands at just the right counterweight to control perfectly. 

Three villains remained, closing the gap between him and the wall. Nicholas growled at them, but took a step back, bracing himself for a frontal attack. Though, with one man injured and all of their superpowered science-fiction weapons disabled, he wasn't sure what their plan was. Cornered criminals were liable to do almost anything to escape; even hurt a nosey teenager who wasn't about to give up either.

His vision split and over the robbers' heads, he could still see the two terrified bank tellers watching fearfully from the shadows. Protective fury welled up inside of him as he spun for another dagger. "GO!" he bellowed at them. "RUN!"

They needed no further encouragement, turning and vanishing into the night. This left Nicholas facing down the three thieves alone. Only three. 

One down, three to go.

He could do this.

Talker spun after the escapee hostages but Nicholas didn't let him get far, swinging a dagger. It implanted itself into the concrete at his feet with a ping. He whirled back to face the hero, murder in his stare.

"That was a mistake."

Was it? Nicholas wasn't so sure. He took another bracing step away as two more punches were aimed at his head. He easily parried them and lashed out with his own, landing a blow to the other man's face, sending him wheeling back, clutching his hands to his nose and screaming. "This is your last warning," he snapped fiercely. "Surrender and I won't be forced to hurt you."

 "Is that so?" Talker jeered, hardly giving his teammate a second glance. "Well, then, we choose...no!" 

Although he had anticipated the next strike, he hadn't planned for the punch it would pack. Talker lunged for him and he threw up the arm free of the blade to defend himself but this was exactly what the bad guy had been hoping for. Shifting directions, he brought his punch up short, dropping and lashing out with a kick to the boy's legs.

Nicholas's knees crumpled underneath him and he gasped as he fell like a lead balloon, his sword clattering from his grip and skittering across the wet stone. It cracked and then vanished entirely from existence. At the same time, a firm and resounding beep echoed from his miraculous. The markings were lit up and blinking.  He barely had time to correct his landing, crashing down hard on the pavement. The villains wasted no time, coming in with sharp jabs and kicks to his ribs and back. He curled into the fetal position, struggling to find some way to get up and face them man-to-man without getting fatally wounded.

I have to move. I can't stay here! A particularly sharp kick to his ribcage sent him reeling out into extension. They took advantage of his involuntary motions, landing blow after blow to his exposed body. 

Master! Get up! Lorr yelled frantically. Fight back! You have to get up!

But he couldn't. Every muscle in his body was roaring in protest and, as a boot smashed into his chest, he realized he wouldn't be able to fight back at all. Fiery pain blistered through his nerves and he heaved, gasping desperately for air that wouldn't come. Now, with his tactile advantage--and his special sword--gone, he realized how much danger he was really in.

This wasn't like some backstreet fight between two middle school boys toughing it out for dominance. This was at an entirely different league. These people were not out to make a point with a possible scrape or bruise as the worst side-effect. They were out to kill him.

He didn't think he was ready for this after all.

The beeping grew louder.

Nicholas! Your miraculous! You're out of time! You're going to transform back! You have to get out of here! Forget the bad guys! Forget recovering the money! Get your tailfeathers together and run!

For the first time since meeting the kwami, Nicholas agreed.

"I...I can't..." he heaved, gathering his bearing and pushing himself up onto his elbows amid the continuing battering. "Lorr...can't...move..."

"Oh, what's wrong, little boy?" the crook's sneered. "Not as tough as you thought, are ya?"

Nicholas clenched his teeth, refusing to answer as a tremor coursed through his spine. Stand up! Stand up! he commanded his resistant muscles. You have to get up! It can't end this way!

 Beaten up and broken and bruised, taken down on his very first mission as a superhero. 

Very heroic, indeed.

Master! Lorr cried, pulling at their connecting bond, yanking desperately upwards. Please, get up! I need you to help me! I...I don't want to lose you!

If he hadn't been in the state of being about to die, he would have had a very snarky comeback prepared for that slip of sentimentality. 

But, of course, he didn't. All his mind could think about were the words; get up! Don't die! Get up! Don't die! playing on repeat as loud and as furious as possible.

Another persistent beep from his pendant.

MASTER!  Lorr cried despairingly. GET UP!

"STOP IT!" Another kick and the words suddenly exploded from his mouth before he could reign them in. He cringed at the evident pain and fear laced within every syllable. There was nothing heroic about lying on the ground begging for mercy.

So, he didn't understand why the pummeling immediately ceased or why he could hear scuffling like boots backing away on the teen. He winced, slowly lifting his head and opening one eye, squinting up at the robbers--but their eyes were not on him, but something above his head instead.

Automatically, he forced his aching body to work with him, twisting to follow the gazes of the robbers. 

Standing on the rooftops was a man dressed from head to toe in black. A dark cape billowed out behind him and even from where Nicholas lay, he could feel the disapproval radiating off of this figure.

"Who is that?" one thief whispered nervously; a question Nicholas was already asking himself. 

Another hero? 

No, something about this man was different. How long had he been standing there, watching the battle unfold? Had he seen Nicholas's struggle and only now decided to intervene because he was in trouble? Who did he work for? Grimm? The superhero hadn't mentioned anything about another hero, but then again, he hadn't really mentioned much of the plan at all.

"Who cares? I've had enough of this nonsense! Leave the money. Let's get out of here!" Talker snapped, pushing the others behind him, taking off at a full sprint, the duffels of money forgotten in the moment. 

The figure stood there for a moment later, watching until the thieves were long out of sight before taking any action to move. Shadowed eyes drifted down to the golden garbed boy and then, without a syllable or even a nod of recognition, the figure turned and disappeared off the side of the roof with a soft plunk; gone in an instant. 

"Hey! Wait!" Nicholas yelled after him, struggling to his feet so quickly that everything swayed and warped around him. He felt the nausea bubbling up once more but he swallowed back the bile, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall. "Wait a minute!" 

But the man...woman...whoever it had been...did not come back, no matter how long Nicholas continued to stand there, staring questioningly toward the heavens.

Master! Lorr squeaked urgently. The civilians!

Oh, right.

He should probably check up on them. That's what a hero would do. Where did they run off to? he questioned, giving the clearing a disapproving once-over. 

I believe they went to your left, Lorr chittered. They appeared quite frightened. Perhaps you should approach with caution.

Yeah. No kidding.

Gulping, Nicholas gathered his bearings and started down an aligning alleyway, moving as swiftly and as silently as his feet would allow him. He noticed the lack of sound echoing from his boots, but he didn't think any more of it as he rounded the bend and found the two tellers huddled behind a trashcan. He wasn't sure if they were incredibly brave for sticking around or plain dumb. What if he had been the robbers? What would they have done then?

Shaking his head in disbelief, he slowed to a halt, kicking a crushed can into the wall, purposely catching their attentions before emerging into the light.

Both yelped and sprang back, the girl clinging to the man's (probably a boyfriend or husband, he guessed) arm. She was closer to the street, Nicholas noted, probably for a quicker escape while the man put up a fight for both of them. Noble, but again, foolish.

"It's okay," he said gruffly, catching himself against the edge of the garbage can, ignoring how it clipped the edge of his arm in his effort to hold himself up and appear more together and alive than he felt. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm...I'm glad you're okay. I...I mean, you're...you are okay, right?"

"Who are you?" the man gasped. "S-some kind of birdman?"

"I'm..." Nicholas paused, unsure. "Yeah, I probably should have come up with a name before this. But, uh...but that's not what's important! Are you two hurt?"

"No, mister," the woman answered, frowning at his blatant dodge. "We're both okay. Thanks to you. You're a real hero, you know that?"

Nicholas smiled faintly, already more than a little uncomfortable. He shuffled his feet and refused to meet their gaze, for them to see how close he'd come to defeat. "I'm glad you're both unharmed, but I'm afraid I must be on my way now. Lots of bad guys to stop and all."

"We understand," the man answered, holding the woman tight as he looked up at the taller boy. "Be safe, my friend."

And Nicholas then took off around the bend, rushing down the sidewalk as his miraculous gave another screech. Lorr, what does that noise mean?

You're underage, Lorr responded. That is your third warning. After you use your special power, you only have five minutes before you transform back into yourself.

Five minutes?! Nicholas yelped. Do you mean I'll turn back into me? Like, me, me?

Your civilian self, yes! Which is why you must find somewhere safe to hide until you transform so that way no one can see you!

Nicholas growled, swerving violently to the right and plunging into another alley. Two more beeps resonated as he took shelter behind a wall and the magic was rudely sucked from his body.

He gasped as Lorr reappeared before him and promptly threw out his hands to catch the falling hippogriff. "Lorr!" he gasped, genuinely concerned for the little guy.  "Are you all right?"

I am fine,  Master .  However , my energy  has  been spent  using  that ability. I must eat to recharge and regain my strength.

"Okay, man," Nicholas agreed, holding him close as his phone vibrated at an alarming rate and he carefully reached to yank it from his pocket. "Sure thing. What do you want?"

Those fluffy air cakes  I  saw on your table  this  morning would do  nicely ,  I  think.

Fluffy air...oh, you mean the pancakes?

Pancakes? Is that what they are called? They sound perfect!

Now who's craving sugar? Nicholas teased, gently lifting his cap and letting the kwami nestle down into his hair. It would be easier for his talons to grip than the inside of his bag if he was as exhausted as he appeared. 

Does that mean you'll do it?

Yeah, dude. Whatever you want. 

His eyes drifted back to his screen and he visibly winced, scanning the ten-plus messages from his parents asking where he was and why he wasn't home yet. He glanced at his watch. 3:45 pm.

 Oh, shoot!

You're late, Lorr commented, but Nicholas was already running, holding the brim of his cap against his head as he sprinted across the busy street and down two more side allies into the heart of the city.

He crashed headfirst into his door ten minutes (and fifteen miles) later, breathing so heavily he was sure he was on track to have a seizure. He didn't even bother trying to compose himself as he threw the door aside and all but fell inside, having neither the strength nor the balance to remain upright.

"You're late!" his mother yelled as she poked her head around the corner.

"Sorry, mom," he heaved, fighting every muscle in his body trying to direct him to collapse against the couch and not move for a century. "Long day. Lost track of time."

Layla blinked at his disheveled form as she continued furiously mixing a bowl of something.  "I see you've been practicing your French," she noted. "You sound...almost native. That school must be doing good things for you after all."

Nicholas shot up straight, panic exploding through his chest. "Oh! Uh...yeah! That's...that's totally it! I'm late because I was...staying late...studying with a friend... and he's...he's helping me with my French. So, yeah. I am really tired, Mom. I'm going to go up to my room for a little while and see if I can knock out this homework. Teachers really packed it on heavy today." 

"Well, okay. But don't forget, you're watching Nino this evening! And don't disturb your father! He's busy in a meeting!"

Nicholas saluted, hitching his bag further onto his shoulders and fleeing up the steps.

There is no friend and no study session. Why did you lie to your mother like that? Lorr inquired as Nicholas slowed near the top to catch his breath.

You said it yourself, buddy, Nicholas answered. No one can know about you. And I could hardly say that I was late because I was out getting beaten up by a bunch of bank robbers. She would have grounded me for the rest of my life, especially after I promised to stop fighting.

I see...Lorr still seemed hesitant but Nicholas shushed him as they crept past his father's office. The door was shut but Nicholas could still clearly make out a few raised words and the angry tone that caused him to pause carefully in the hall. 

"Tonight? Can't...scheduled...moved up the timeline. I know it's risky, Kila. No other option. Knows too much. First thing tomorrow. Fly out immediately. Yes, I understand completely. I will take care of it personally."

Nicholas gulped, ducking his head and rushing on to throw his bag down in his bed and set both Lorr and his cap safely on his pillow. "Stay here," he whispered to the kwami before hurrying to convince his mother to make him pancakes (an hour before dinner, Nicholas! Honestly, how hungry can you possibly be that you can't wait an hour? Desperately so, the boy pleaded, reminding her how much stress he'd been under lately and how it had really messed with his nutrition).

"Here you go, pal," Nicholas sighed, once again plopping down onto his mattress, holding out the plate of three pancakes for the kwami. Lorr squeaked happily, darting out from under the cap to dive for the food as his holder laid back on his bed, arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling soothingly.

A few moments later, he felt a whoosh of cold air brush past his nose and a flood of feathers swipe up his shoulders to settle in the crook of his neck. Two talons gently curled up to his throat and a breathy sigh was audible above the stillness.

Thank you, Master. And just so you know, despite the outcome of today's battle, I think you're a very brave boy. You did a very dangerous thing today and you performed admirably. I am proud of you.

Nicholas smiled weakly at this, moving to stroke the bird gently on the head. Anytime, Lorr, he telepathed tiredly. And thanks.

Chapter Text

Something stirred within the coldest grasps of the continent; a change so extraordinary that, at first, it was overlooked as an error, a blip in the otherwise blemishless perfection. There had been no need to be concerned, for mistakes such as these were often easy to remedy; a simple reboot and recharge and the problem would be gone. 

It was nearly forty-eight hours later before someone realized that this blip was much greater than the ones they'd watched over for the past thousand years, and definitely could not be an error in the system.

Which meant someone out there was using a miraculous illegally. 

The entire situation brought about many problems that now needed to be addressed. The greatest and most obvious being; how had a miraculous been located in the first place? There were not many left in the world to find. The few that remained were scattered, hiding in places where no one would ever think to go looking for them--such as the Amazon rainforest. The most obvious solution was that the activated miraculous had come from the Chinese Miraclebox; the one taken by a previous Guardian-In-Training; Fu, before he had burnt down the temple and the Guardians had been forced to flee to their outposts on each continent. But yet, each kwami brought about a specific feeling to themselves and to those around them upon using their powers, and this did not feel like a Chinese kwami.

This felt...

...older.

Much older. Like...something that had been long lost to both time and age. And since they knew the exact location of the ladybug and black cat kwami, that narrowed down their search to the third and fourth most powerful of all beings; those of wisdom and vengeance, the hippogriff and the dragon.

Which was impossible since Lorr and Trekk had been missing for millennia: ever since the conquistadors arrived in South America during the late 16th century. Their miraculouses had not only been lost in the midst of a fearsome fight, but there had been no records of their holders up until this point.

No one knew what had happened to the two kwami after that.

So, why then, after all these years, could he suddenly sense their presence once more? Where were they? And the more important question; who was it that had their miraculous and would be stupid enough to activate them?

"Celestial Guardian...Su-Han, sir? Uh...you may want to take a look at this."

He opened one eye with a scowl, glaring down at the young man standing uncomfortably below his meditation ledge. "Rikard," he said slowly, purposefully, uncrossing his legs and folding his hands as he stood to a more natural position--much unlike the intimidating defensive posture he so often selected to address his pupils with. "What is it?"

"It's the miraculouses of wisdom and vengeance," Rikard explained breathlessly as his kwami circled his head nervously. "We've found them."

Su-Han dropped from his perch and landed on the stone tile before the boy, quieter than a mouse, and Rikard gulped.

"Where?" the Guardian demanded.

"Uhm...uh...P-paris!" the student blurted. "F-france! W-we're still trying to p-pinpoint their exact location, but right now we know enough to guess--"

Su-Han wasn't listening anymore. In two quick steps, he was breezing past the boy, hands folded neatly behind his back as he pondered. "Alert our allies in the European sector," he ordered without so much as a glance over his shoulder. "We have a breach in our defenses. Summon those who guard the Miracleboxes and the High Guardians at their designated outposts. I want them here now, I want to know how we missed this, and I want these new holders--whoever they might be--captured and detained for questioning! The very act of wearing a miraculous without Guild consent is against our code and anyone found doing so will be severely punished! That goes for everyone!"

"Uh...yes, sir! Of course, sir!" Rikard stammered, gulping as the raccoon shifted toward the hood of his coat nervously. "But...uh...sir? There's...still a possibility that...whoever has these miraculous now...might not know what they contain or the rules of the guild! Wouldn't going after them now just alert them to our existence and possibly frighten them into never using the miraculouses again?" Or was that the whole idea? With the man, it was often difficult to tell what he was expecting.

"Nonsense!" the Guardian exclaimed loudly, sending Rikard three feet into the air and his kwami diving for cover inside his oversized coat. "Everyone who wears a miraculous knows the law! It is tradition!"

Rikard's protests died on his lips as Su-Han turned and flew out of the room with a growl, already yelling something at someone else further away, probably a poor first-year trainee who had been unfortunate enough to get in his way. For someone who practiced constant meditations, Su-Han was often the opposite of calm.

The boy sighed, sharing a glance with the raccoon who was giving him a disbelieving stare. "Well, what was I supposed to do?" he demanded. "He's the Celestial Guardian! I can't argue against that!"

"You need to stand up to him, Sir," the kwami answered calmly, squeezing back out of his coat to wrap himself firmly into the boy's gloved hands. "He may be the Celestial Guardian, but you are just as important and you play a vital role to this guild! You will be training the next generation of heroes one day. He needs to respect you for that."

"That's easier said than done," Rikard scoffed. "Since he is literally in charge of everything that happens with the Guardians and--" His eyes shot up now and he twisted to his left, narrowing his gaze at an ever-so-slight motion from one of the darkest shadows of the room. It was almost so small that he wasn't sure he had even seen anything in the first--

A high-pitched sneeze echoed through the otherwise still room and a pair of fuzzy blue ears suddenly poked from the darkness and two glistening eyes blinked ominously from the gloom. Something was there, hovering just out of his reach, and it didn't take him more than a second to guess who had been eavesdropping on them this entire time.

"Oh, great," Rikard groaned, running a hand through his thick hair as he turned. "Just what I need right now to help me when I'm already beyond impossibly stressed out. My soothsayer of disaster."

The raccoon above his head frowned. "I think his name is Luupa," he corrected automatically, missing the sarcasm entirely. 

"Thank you for that, Bannd." Rikard deadpanned. 

"You're welcome!" Bannd chirped, spinning through the air happily as the wolf-like kwami glided over to join them as soon as the coast was clear, fangs shining and snout drawn worriedly as he approached.

"Rikard!" the kwami howled, very accurately representing the animal he stood for. "I have seen the most terrible things! Absolutely horrible!"

The boy sighed and hunched his shoulders, knowing there was no way for him to escape the inevitable. "Oh, where have I heard this before? Oh, yeah! This isn't another of your 'the spaghetti in the lunchroom is poisoned' spiels again, is it? Because I think I've heard that one at least fifteen times in the last week alone..."

"No!" Luupa exclaimed, flicking his ears anxiously. "Though that is STILL A VERY STRONG POSSIBILITY. That food is terrible! Someone MAY have poisoned it to kill the chef who made the atrocity in the first place! And whatever you do, don't eat the creamed corn!"

"Oh, good heavens," Rikard rolled his eyes, very accustomed to the wolf's sudden outbursts by now. "Here we go..."

"You know I'm right!" Luupa cried. "I am not making this up! We are in danger! Everyone here at this outpost is in grave danger! The legend is about to crash down upon us! The lost heir! The Guardians united for the end of times!"

"Wow, cryptic as ever, I see."

"He sounds more and more like Fluff every day," Bannd remarked.

Rikard silently agreed but before he could say anything, the kwami growled exasperatedly and swished his tail angrily. 

"I am trying to warn you!" Luupa protested. "Fluff may be able to see all the possible futures, but I can clearly see this one! The oldest legend of all time is about to come true! Every kwami is about to be bonded and their powers stolen by another! We need to prepare! We need to be ready!"

Bannd, though he still looked slightly disbelieving, managed to compose himself long enough to utter out a, "Luupa, calm down! What you're saying is impossible! Kwami can't lose their powers! We've been around since the creation of the universe! We're immortal!"

"I'm telling you, I--"

"Luupa," Rikard interjected, growing impatient now. "There is nothing wrong with our futures. You're just overreacting to one of your nightmares again."

"Even nightmares serve a purpose!" Luupa argued, a growl forming in the back of his throat. The fur on the collar of his neck rose defensively but the boy just shook his head and his kwami mimicked his actions. 

"Okay, sure," Rikard sighed. "The world is in danger and everyone here is at risk. Gotcha. We really need to find you a holder, pal. I think you've been cooped up in that miraclebox for too long."

"Why don't you go see if you can find a scribe or something to journal what you've seen recently in your dreams?" Bannd suggested warily. "Maybe they can help you sort out what's real and what's just  in your imagination."

With a nod at his kwami for his quick thinking, Rikard started to creep away from the blue holderless, bundling his coat tighter to his neck and pulling the hood over his hair. He reached the door a few moments later and Bannd yelped, scrambling after him, leaving Luupa hovering alone, watching their every move with a frown with his tail drawn in and swishing anxiously into a potted fern, listening to the sounds of excited voices just beyond the walls of the temple.

"The future is coming," he snarled. "The end draws nearer and the hour of the destined comes close. The gold and red will bring about the war and above it all, the great protector will be revealed, the last descendant of the miraculous, the only one who can end our secrecy for all time." His gaze pulled away from the retreating boy and his skittish kwami to focus on something far beyond the realms to time and matter, to a quiet laugh thousands of miles away, and to a gentle pull of love, of goodness.

 "I know you're coming, destined one. I do not yet know how or where, but I know you are out there and someday, somehow, you will find your way here. And when you do, I will be waiting for you."

Chapter Text

The sensation of feathers was still abundant around his neck as Nicholas finally began to stir what felt like several short hours later. It was a moment or two later before he realized that was due to the kwami still nestled up to his chest, snoring quietly and, for the most part, contentedly as well.

"G'morning, Lorr," he said with a yawn. He extended his arms for a stretch, blinking away mountains of sleep, and glanced around at his empty, yet perfectly organized bedroom--

--and realized it wasn't as empty as he'd thought.

Two wide hazel eyes peered down at him and a curious and playful grin spread across the boy's face as he situated himself at the end of the bed, staring at boy and kwami with the most hope a six-year-old could possibly give.

"GAH! NINO!" Nicholas shrieked, leaping back to the head of his bed and instantly throwing his hands over a startled and confused Lorr, ignoring the squawks of indignant protest. "WHAT are you DOING in here?"

"My room," Nino pointed out reasonably. "Yous said we go to park." He never took his eyes off of the struggling semi-hidden kwami. "Why hiding bird?" he inquired, tilting his head sweetly.

Nicholas panicked. "Bird? What bird? I don't have a bird! I have...a toy! Yes! This is just a stuffed animal! Like the ones you have all over your bed!"

You are such a horrible liar, Nicholas Lahiffe.

"Nu-uh!" Nino argued, scooting closer now and trying to pull Nicholas's hands apart to get to Lorr. "Not stuffed a-animal! Bird! Pet bird! Pet shop! Feathers! You allergic to feathers! Turtle no feathers! Turtle better pet!" He giggled and Nicholas only scooted further away from his brother, mind whirling too fast to try and process what his sibling found so funny.

"Okay, yes," he said sharply, thinking on his feet. "This is my bird. And he's hurt, see?" At the same time, he focused all of his thoughts as hard as he could to get through to the kwami. Pretend to be mortally injured!

He slowly opened his hands and Lorr promptly fell into a limp position, head flopping to the side and tongue lolling dramatically from his beak, chest heaving as though he had been stabbed right through the heart. He gave a tiny cough for good measure.

Nino raised an eyebrow at the bird, looking far too cute and innocent as he did so. Then, before Nicholas could move to stop him, he lunged forward to snatch the kwami from the older brother's grasp and hold Lorr close to his chest.

"Nino, no!" Nicholas yelled, leaping up and scrambling after his sibling. "Give him back! He's mine! Be careful with him!"

"You scaring him!" Nino cried, dancing back out of Nicholas's reach. Lorr squeaked fearfully, struggling to break free from the boy's interlocked grip. "He scared! It okay, little birdie," he went on gently, cradling the kwami in his arms. "You get better. We help you."

"Nino," Nicholas pleaded through clenched teeth. "Please give him back. He's not a toy. He doesn't like being held like that! He's not a baby!" He straightened, using the edge of the bed to steady himself, his free hand going to hold his sides, still aching from the painful beating he had received. Thankfully, it seemed Lorr had absorbed most of the damage, but the dull pain was still there under the surface.

Nino's hawk-like vision immediately honed in on this weakness and his eyes grew even rounder and Nicholas, seeing this, winced and took a small step backward under the slightly upset glare. There may have been a difficulty with the child's pinpointing his exact location, but it didn't matter. The look was clear enough. "Nino..." he began slowly, holding out his hand. "Please, give him back to me. He needs to stay close to me so I can keep him safe."

And out of reach of little nosey siblings who don't understand what kind of power he contains.

Master! Lorr chirped. Please help me free! While I appreciate the young one's concern for animal life, I find it quite difficult to breathe in this position!

Sorry, Lorr! I don't know what's gotten into him! He's usually not this impulsive! "Nino," Nicholas repeated sternly. "Give him to me now or we won't go to the park."

Nino froze. "B-but you p-promised!" he spluttered. "Said w-we go!"

"Well, then give me the bird," Nicholas said unflinchingly. On the outside, he gave no indication that the words were at all affecting him. On the inside, he felt horrible, sick even, seeing the tears welling in the child's eyes. I'm sorry, Akhi. Please don't make me have to live that threat out because I think it will hurt me more than it will you.

With a quiet sniffle, the boy obeyed, cautiously shuffling forward and releasing Lorr into Nicholas's hands. Staying perfectly in role, Lorr went limp in his hands, allowing him to lay him on one of Nino's blankets. Nino crept over to peer around his brother's legs, hovering close and curious. Nicholas wished he knew how to keep Lorr out of sight and out of mind. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to pull off the lie. Lorr wasn't a normal bird. He wasn't a bird at all and Nino was too smart to buy that deception for long.

"Thank you."

"C-can we g-go to p-park?" Nino whispered, still eyeing Lorr.

What do you think, buddy? Can you still breathe? Nicholas's eyes shot from the kwami to Nino and back again.

Take him to the park, Master. He is just an eager child. He meant no harm.

"Okay," Nicholas sighed. "Go get your coat and go ahead downstairs. I'll get my shoes and be there in a second."

Nino beamed and scurried off to obey and Nicholas waited until he out the door and down the hall before he allowed himself a moment to breathe. He fell back against his mattress and Lorr flew up to hover at his shoulders. "I'm sorry, man," Nicholas muttered. "I didn't know what else to do. He caught me off guard."

There is no need to apologize, Nicholas. I find the tiny master to be quite precious, if not a little too loving. But, then again, no one has died from being loved too much. Yet.

Thanks for that, Lorr. You always know how to make me feel reassured.

Happy to help!

For the kwami of wisdom, you really don't grasp the concept of sarcasm, do you?

The last time my miraculous was activated and I was summoned into your world was during the quests of Southern America in 1492. So, near the 16th century, long before teenage humans were as snide and depressing as your kind has become. Sarcasm was nonexistent and not held by my previous holder.

And who was your previous holder then? Xena?

No, but a young Amazonian warrior. Wonderful girl. I believe she went on to play an important role in the American history books. However, I would be interested in learning more about what happened to her after my miraculous was deactivated.

You and me both, Nicholas grunted, grabbing his coat off the hook and stuffing his little bit of pocket money into his jeans. Nino would no doubt beg for ice cream so he wanted to make sure he had enough to buy at least one cone. Maybe she would have been able to connect with you better.

I do not believe that, Master. I think you do very nicely yourself.

I nearly let you get strangled by a preschooler, dude. That doesn't sound very nice to me at all.

But you didn't. And the fault is just as much mine as it is yours. Do not fear. Small humans often have short memories. I doubt he will remember me by morning.

If you say so. Grabbing his hat and letting the kwami settle onto his head, Nicholas started for the door. I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but Nino isn't like other kids. I have a feeling getting him to forget what he's seen will be a little harder than you're expecting.

We will cross that bridge if it becomes necessary. For now, perhaps you should focus on spending time with him. You're his role model. Go be a good one.

Nicholas smiled slightly at this and made his way down the stairs. His mother glanced up briefly from the kitchen as he slung his arm around his little brother and waved goodbye.

"Be good, you two!" Layla called after them. "Be home before dark, and Nicholas, don't let your brother have too many sweets! You know he'll be sick!" She tried to sound commanding, but the whisk of cake batter kind of killed the effect.

Nicholas saluted and Nino glanced up at him solemnly. He winked and received a hopeful grin in response.

"Where first?" Nino inquired once they were out of earshot. "Carousel? Bridge? River? Icecream?"

Nicholas laughed as the overeager child ran on ahead of him. "Slow down, Akhi!" he protested. "We'll do everything but we have to do it walking! I'm not as young as you!"

Lorr chirped in laughter.

Oh, shut it, you. You're, what? Three thousand years old? Give me a break!

Actually, I am much older than that, but I will allow your remark.

Nicholas rolled his eyes even though Lorr couldn't see, picking up his pace and running after his sibling.

Fortunately, the river wasn't very far away. Neither was the park and Nicholas decided it would probably be best to start there and knock out the carousel and playground before moving on to anything sugar-based. Andre would be at the riverfront. He always was this time of the week. Nicholas didn't need to look at his phone and follow any silly little clues to know this. What the kids who chased after his ice cream did not understand was the thing called a pattern. It had been relatively easy to decipher. Andre always went to the same places every week. He just shifted locations and times depending on A) the time of the year and B) where he had been last. Take the last known place, add three blocks over and four blocks down and you can easily tell where he is going to be next using a map and a bit of common sense.

And pythagorean theorem, Lorr added, but Nicholas didn't bother to dignify that. Nino was already getting too far ahead and he didn't want to let the boy out of his sight.

"Nino! Hey! Wait for me!"

"Too slowwww!" Nino sang, already skipping around the bend as his brother desperately ran to catch up.

If he gets hit by a moving buggy, I claim no fault, Lorr commented.

Some help you are, Nicholas sighed, veering around the bend and scooping Nino up onto his shoulders. Nino giggled, grabbing onto the sides of Nicholas's cap to steady himself, pushing the hat further against his brother's head and sending Lorr into a fit of screeching silent insults at his holder.

How...dare...you! the bird shrieked, jostled by every step and movement. He fluffed his wings furiously but Nicholas only laughed.

I'm sorry, what? I can't hear you over the sound of my triumphant victory.

You are...the worst! Ab...so...lute...ly the...worst! Never have I...been treated in such...a ruthless...manner! I...am...a...god...and...I do...not...deserve...this kind of...disrespect!

You may be a god, but you're the one who chose to stick your beak into my life, Nicholas fired back boldly. My life, my rules, buddy. If you want to be a little Loki, go ahead, but even Loki was knocked down a few pegs by Thor.

Did you...just...compare yourself to a character from...Greek mythology? Perhaps...there...is...still hope for...you...after all. ..

No, I compared myself to a Marvel superhero.

Forget...what...I just...said. We...are...doomed. And for the... guild's...sake...please tell your brother...to stop...hitting me...on the head!

Fine. But I thought you were enjoying yourself.

"Hey, Nino," Nicholas interrupted his sibling's frantic attempt to fix his hat for the tenth time, drawing his attention to something beyond. They had reached the far edge of the park and the carousel was in plain view. "You ready to go ride on the horse?"

"Horse!" Nino repeated, hat and kwami already forgotten as he attempted to scramble down from Nicholas's shoulders and the older boy had to move hastily to permit the action. "Black and white! Black and white! Cow horse!" He pointed to a very specific horse that, for some reason, had managed to catch his eye.

"Cow horse, huh?" Nicholas laughed, shaking his head and reaching down to take his brother's hand, leading him to the ticket stand. A man was already there and he smiled upon their arrival, taking in Nino's hopeful rabbit-like hops and Nicholas's already exhausted expression.

"Well, hello," he spoke gently, rubbing his goatee as Nino all but leaped over the edge of the counter and Nicholas had to lunge forward to grab him and drag him back. "And what a couple of wonderful young men we have here! I suppose you're here to try out the carousel?"

"Horse! Horse!" Nino repeated loudly and Nicholas truly began to wonder if the boy knew how to say anything else.

The elderly man chuckled, pulling off a ticket and handing it to the child. "There you are, little one. Go and have a good time. That ticket is for you."

Nino beamed as Nicholas fished through his pocket for his wallet.

The man, seeing what he was searching for, held up a hand and shook his head. "It's no charge. Today, the ride is free. You have a special brother there, young man. It's best you don't forget that."

Nicholas blinked, startled. "Uh...yes, sir. I won't." He glanced down at Nino who was hopping from foot to foot excitedly. "Are you sure that I can't--"

But the man just shook his head. "Go have a good time. This one is a gift. From me to you."

"Um...well...merci, sir. That is...very generous of you and--"

"Come on, come on!" Nino sighed, growing impatient with the exchange of cordialities, snatched Nicholas's arm and dragged him after him, ignoring Nicholas's red-faced protests and the gentle laughter he received from the elder.

Nino wasted no time scouting about, searching for the horse he wanted. He already knew where the black and white horse was. It was the same one he picked every time they came. They waited a couple of minutes until there were enough people to begin the ride and Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head as he sunk onto a nearby bench to watch. The music was lulling, however, and he found himself passively searching for something else to preoccupy his time with. He could hear Nino laughing excitedly as the ride circled, but his attention was suddenly drawn to a shadowy figure who materialized beside his bench, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Nicholas?"

He jumped back with a yelp, nearly falling off the end of the bench. His gaze shot upwards to see the anxious smile and mop of blond as the new arrival folded his arms and shuffled from one foot to another.

"Milo?" he answered, wincing as his tone came out as a question.

The blond smiled and adjusted his lenses, seeming unperturbed by the boy's response. "You remembered," he commented, sounding surprised.

"I...yeah...I did." Nicholas didn't know what to say. "Uh...what are you doing here?" I thought you were going to explore the sights and lights of Paris. This is hardly the most glamorous portion of the city.

Milo shrugged, shivering at a particularly cold blast of wind and burrowing further into his huge red coat. "My dad is on his way back to the Americas for a meeting," he answered. "So I'm here until the end of the week. Figured I might as well take in some of the local sights as well as the tourist attractions. I didn't expect to see you here though. What brings you to this little part of nowhere?"

"My brother," Nicholas replied, nodding to the carousel. Nino caught them staring as he went around and he waved excitedly. Milo and Nicholas waved back.

"He looks like he is having a good time," Milo remarked and Nicholas noted the way he fiddled with his hands in his pockets ."How old is he?"

"He's six," Nicholas answered. "Almost seven." And about as intelligent as a sixteen-year-old with a Nobel prize.

"Ah," Milo slowly sat down on the opposite end of the bench and pulled his hood further over his eyes. "My sister is thirteen and could give anyone a run for their money. I remember this age though." He nodded to Nino as the kid circled back around again. "It's a good age. Right at the point of believing in the impossible. Trusting in it, even. I remember believing anything was possible if I wanted it hard enough."

"You have no idea," Nicholas laughed. "I wish I had Nino's view of the world. He always believes the very best of everyone and everything."

"He sounds like a great brother to have," Milo agreed, waving once more and receiving a beam of excitement from the child.

"He is," Nicholas agreed, smiling at his sibling proudly. "The best." He twisted back to face Milo. "So, now what are you going to do while your dad is out of town? School's closed for the weekend so there's nowhere for you to give your lectures."

"Oh, bummer. That's okay," Milo shrugged. He held up a digital camera and pretended to take a series of pictures; of the trees, the fencing, and then of Nicholas who barely had time to register that he was supposed to smile before the click. "I think I'd make a very nice tourist, don't you?"

Nicholas laughed outright at that and the blond let the camera drop back on its lanyard, smiling sheepishly back. Nicholas was forced to wonder how much social interaction with other kids his age the boy had actually had. He was almost more uncomfortable than Nicholas and that was saying a lot.

"You'll make a wonderful tourist," Nicholas agreed, glancing back toward the ride once more as the music slowly began to die away and the first of the hurried patters of three-sizes-too-big shoes came trampling toward them. He braced himself for the energetic blur of toddler, scooping Nino up and dangling him upside down by his feet.

Milo laughed at Nino's squeals of excitement and stepped back to avoid being whacked as Nicholas proceeded to flip his brother right-side-up and stand him back on the grass.

Immediately, the curious eyes shot from Nicholas over to the second boy and the joy that lit up Nino's face wasn't one that Nicholas anticipated he would be able to tone down anytime soon. "You Nickie's f-friend?" Nino questioned, hurrying over to cling to the bottom corner of Milo's coat. "You coat soft," the boy mumbled.

Behind him, Nicholas groaned loudly and clapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation. Well, there goes any chance I have of slowly working my way up to asking him that. Thanks, Nino. Now he'll never want to be friends with me.

Milo blinked down at the small human, opening his mouth to say something but hesitating at the hopeful pools of chocolate peering up at him. "Yes," he finally blurted out, glancing up and giving Nicholas an unsure, yet hopefully confident smile. "I am his friend."

Warmth bloomed through Nicholas's chest as he turned to face the taller boy once again. "You...you are? I...I mean, you want to be? I...I... don't know how to say...I should probably shut up now but I can't...help..."

Milo chuckled. "You don't have to. I want to be your friend, Nicholas. I mean, if that's okay with you. I don't want to mess with all of your mighty I'm a loner now and forever a loner I will be swag. I don't want to tag along behind if you don't want me to be there. I just...you could just say the word and I'll disappear right now and great because now I'm the one rambling."

Nino giggled and Nicholas couldn't help the embarrassed grin that followed. "Well...um...thank you for...for ah, you know..." He didn't finish, distracting himself with an impatiently nudging Nino who had already grown bored with the uncomfortable exchange and was dancing back and forth to some internal song.

"Of course," Milo replied, nodding cordially. "That is the way I was raised. Friends are an important factor to have and I believe we are both in need of one of those. Perhaps we can help each other in the long run."

For someone who claims to just want a friend, Lorr observed, he makes this sound much more like a business proposition.

Nicholas ignored him. "Perhaps we can," he agreed, grabbing Nino and swinging him back over his shoulders. "Listen, if it's a good picture you're looking for, the Eiffle will be open for about another hour. It was some of the best sunset pictures in the world."

"Huh," Milo vocalized. "Yeah, I'd heard that. I might have to try it. Things always do seem so much clearer from higher up, don't they?"

"Uh...I don't actually know," Nicholas confessed, wincing as Nino shifted his weight impatiently. "I'm not really that fond of heights. A family trait, I guess."

"I see," Milo folded his arms thoughtfully. "So...what do you do when you aren't trying to be Mr. Independant Loner? Clearly not things up in the air. No theme parks and skyscrapers, I take it?"

"I like things more down-to-earth," Nicholas replied, cracking a smile at his own joke.

Milo raised an eyebrow.

"Uh...down-to-earth? As opposed to up-in-the-air?" He lamely tried to explain. "Sorry. I'm not much along the lines of a jokester."

"Eh, definitely not your superpower," Milo agreed.

Nicholas tensed. "S-superpower?" he faltered, nearly dropping Nino in his haste to grab for his ball cap anxiously. "I-I don't know what you mean by that. I...I don't have superpowers!"

Oh, yeah, that was convincing all right. A-rated actor material, right there. Let me just go and get the contracts and we'll sign away our souls and my miraculous at the same time.

Lorr, not helping!

Milo looked at him strangely. "Uh...yeah, obviously not. Superpowers aren't real or I would have found a million ways to dodge my overbearing lifestyle a long time ago. It was just an expression. Is that...not an expression the French use? I didn't, like, just insult your mother, did I?"

It was just a turn-of-phrase, Nicholas realized, feeling his chest relax a little as the realization dawned on him. "N-no," he replied carefully. "Sorry, I...I just...haven't heard anyone ever...use that phrase in that way before and it...uh... ice cream!" He cut himself off. "Nino and I were on our way to find Andre the ice cream man! Have you heard of him? He's got some of the best ice cream in the world and you should come with us...if you have time and are not too busy...and please shut me up now before I make even a bigger idiot out of myself."

Have I mentioned lately how much the opposite of grandiloquent you are? Because I think it bears reminding.

I figured that one out for myself, thanks.

Milo blinked. "Uh... ice cream? Yeah, I...sure." He shrugged. "I have nothing going on right now. But I'm buying."

"I have money," Nicholas protested. Granted, maybe not enough for all three of them but he could always wait or ask for his next month's allowance early.

"And you invited me," the blond fired back. "So, the least I can do is pay."

"Oh, but..."

"Friend pay!" Nino interrupted, swinging his arms tiredly. "Want ice cream!"

"Listen to him, Nicholas," Milo laughed, already starting past them and digging through his coat for something, money probably. "Trust me, with both me and him around, you won't win this argument."

Nicholas looked from the older boy up to Nino and back again. His wallet suddenly felt heavy in his pocket and he sighed loudly. "If you're sure..."

"Totally," the millionaire cut him off. "I'm good for it, trust me. You just get me to this Mr. Andre guy and I've got this in the bag."

"Oh..uh...Milo? Andre is that way."

The blond paused and glanced back at his shoulder. Nicholas was pointing in the opposite direction. "Oh..."

Nino repeated his demand for ice cream and the three of them were off for the Reine, Nicholas taking the lead and Milo hurrying after him. He didn't seem to mind trailing behind a little, which was good, because Nicholas's mind had already moved on to the hundreds of flavors of ice cream that Andre might pick for them that day. Every time, it was different. There was also something about being able to find one's soulmate through the flavors, but he highly doubted it. The girl of his dreams had yet to waltz through the front door and sweep him off his feet.

I don't think that's how the story goes, Lorr commented at this and Nicholas quickly threw away that notion, unsure why the kwami's comment had embarrassed him so much.

Oh, what do you know about fairytales anyway, Mr. I-Spent-The-Last-Five-Centuries-In-A-Box?

I heard the fairytales. In the 16th century. When they were first written. Also, there is this lovely well of knowledge known as the internet that has been very forthcoming with information. Did you know that a cow has three stomachs and constantly throws up his own food, called regurgitation, and then eats it again?

How is that at all relevant to my point? Nicholas sighed, earning a confused look from Milo.

Nothing at all! Lorr laughed. I just thought it was really interesting!

Something tells me I am going to have to teach you about internet safety if you plan to continue surfing through my phone while I sleep.

Internet safety? Why would I need protection from an inanimate object?

You just have to be careful what you believe, Nicholas explained. Not everything that is on the internet is true. People lie. People lie a lot. Especially online.

That's a very grim way of looking at things, Master. You don't give your own race much grace. That is not typical for humanity. You're so pessimistic compared to everyone around you. Why is that?

Welcome to the 21st century, buddy.

Lorr mumbled something else Nicholas couldn't catch, something about "dodging my question" and "we'll come back to this later" but before he could probe into what the hippogriff was planning, Nino let out an excited squeal and Nicholas tried not to leap out of his skin as he jerked his head up to see what all the excitement was about.

"I hear..." Milo paused. "Uh...I hear singing. Tell me I am not the only one hearing that the river is singing."

"Andre!" Nino cheered as the three boys rounded the bend and the river, bathed in shimmering orange light, came into view. The bridge arching above the massive bed of water was a magnificent sight to see, even to Nicholas who had grown accustomed to it over the past years. However, that didn't keep the smile from his face when Milo all but gasped out his entire air source and threw up his camera to take pictures.

Nicholas chuckled, stepping out of the lense and pointing to the wheeled stand set out at the very top of the arch, in perfect view of the cascading waves below. "Whoa," Milo breathed, running to the railing to catch a picture of a boat going under them. "Nicholas, Nino, have you guys seen this?"

"Yeah!" Nino laughed as Nicholas carefully set him down on the boardwalk. "Big boat!"

"Very big," Milo agreed, making his way back over to the brothers as they approached the overly-joyous vendor.

"Ah, hello, my friends!" Andre laughed, spotting them approaching from a good distance away. "It has been a while! Good to see you both safe and well!" Nino giggled and waved as Andre's eyes fell on Milo who was shyly hanging to the back, finding with the lense of his camera. "Oh, and who is this? A new member to the traditional duo! Something bold and exciting, I see!"

"Hello, Andre," Nicholas responded calmly, gesturing to Milo that it was safe to step closer. "This is Milo. He's...my friend." Wow, that sounded weird out loud. Even rattling through his brain as he tested the word out didn't sound right.

"Greetings. I've heard that you have some of the best ice cream in the world, sir," Milo said, stepping toward to heartily shake the man's hand. "I look forward to tasting it."

"Oh, ho" Andre exclaimed. "Well, aren't you a polite one! Yes, the perfect match for a banana and cherry combination I have been waiting to try!"

Nino started giggling uncontrollably.

"Uh, what?" Milo inquired, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"Andre likes to match people up to an ice cream flavor that matches their personality," Nicholas explained as Andre ducked behind the counter to get to work. "Apparently, you're a banana and cherry kind of guy."

"Th...anks? I...think?"

Nino only giggled harder. "Strawberry! Chocolate!" he exclaimed, waving his hands above his excitedly. "N-nickie...c-chocolate ras-b-berry."

"Precisely! Everyone has a special flavor that reveals who they really are," Andre agreed, remembering once again, holding two cones and handing them to Milo and Nino before momentarily disappearing from view once again. "But today," he added, "I think there's a little something different to add into the mix of my favorite customer. An aura of mystery and intrigue, along with a new discovery of a once unreachable vault." He handed the next cone to Nicholas who stared at it in confusion.

"Is this...pineapple?"

Without warning, Nino leaned in and swiped a lick right from the top.

"Hey!" Nicholas yelled, yanking his cone away and almost losing his entire scoop onto his brother's face. "Eat your own ice cream, you hog!"

"Apple!" Nino sang happily, dancing cheekily out of Nicholas's reach.

"Correct! Golden delicious to be precise! A little unusual on the outside, the skin is usually beaten and bruised and is often overlooked by the harvesters, but on the inside, it is sweeter than honey and just as appealing," Andre confirmed with a beaming grin.

Nino executed a hasty retreat, ducking behind Milo for safety, yellow ice cream smeared all across his nose and his not-at-all-apologetic smile. Nicholas scowled at him with as much disapproval as he could muster before turning back to face Andre. "Uh, thanks, this is cool and all, but I think I prefer my raspberry chocolate chunk. This feels...a little under sugared if you know what I mean."

"Sprinkles!" Nino butted in. "More sprinkles!"

"Quiet you," Nicholas ordered, pointing an accusing finger at the smiling child. "You ate my ice cream. You don't get a vote now."

Milo was silently watching the entire scene, a small smile creeping across his lips as Nino blew a raspberry at his brother and Nicholas was to hops and half an ice cream from removing one of his shoes and chucking it at the six-year-old.

Andre smiled. "Your French is astounding today, Nicholas," he commented, leaning over the end of his stand to smile at the three boys. "It sounds like your practicing has finally paid off!"

Oh no, Lorr commented.

Oh boy. That's not good. Lie, brain! Say something! Say something quickly! "Oh!" Nicholas stammered, dropping his defensive position and spinning guiltily to face the man. "I...uh...I actually--"

"I've been helping him," Milo quickly intercepted, sliding in out of nowhere and slinging an arm around Nicholas's shoulders. "Yeah, and I have got to say, I'm such a great teacher. I'm impressed with how well he's done. I don't know how he ever got along without me." He flashed Nicholas an I-Got-Your-Back grin and the boy nervously returned it. At the same time, Milo went fishing through his pocket for his money, pulling out a big wad of cash and handing some to the man. "Keep the change," he told him. "You've earned it. Your ice cream is the best in the world. Trust me on that."

Andre blinked, watching as Milo carefully steered Nicholas away from the bridge, Nino skipping along behind, and the three found a seat near the shore where they could all fit and talk about things unrelated to magical personality icecream or schoolwork or anything other than deciding (and disagreeing) on the best places to visit in the city, as well as what it was like where they were from. They came from very different lifestyles, which was easy to tell right off the bat. A small, quiet village in Morocco compared to the bustling cities of Hawaii. But that didn't stop them from discovering that they both had a love for music and Milo showed him a new app on his phone for remixing songs (oddly enough, Nino seemed just as, if not more, excited by this than Nicholas). Nicholas, in turn, told him of a couple of places, not too far away, where the sun would set just right at a perfect angle for a picture.

Milo responded that he didn't need a perfect sunset to make the picture amazing and he proceeded to prove it, setting his camera on a timer and dragging the two boys out to stand beside him, a perfect backdrop of the arched bridge behind them, the two older boys frozen in time giving an awkward high-five with Nino sitting contentedly on Milo's shoulders, reaching for Nicholas's hat while Nicholas leaned back to avoid that fate.

Milo laughed at the outcome and when Nicholas asked to see it, he promised to give him a copy just as soon as he got it developed.

It was another hour before it truly began to get dark and Nicholas decided that he and Nino would need to be getting home soon before their parents began to worry about them. Milo said the same and the two finally made up their minds to part ways back at the park where they had first met to begin with.

After hasty farewells, Nicholas and Nino started off down the path once more and Milo hurried in the other direction, shouting something about seeing Nicholas at school on Monday, but his words were too fast to catch entirely.

Nicholas had felt so light-hearted and so joyful that he'd almost run the entire way home, dragging Nino along behind him, ignoring the child's confused yelps and giggles as he slung him up over his shoulders one final time and skidded around the bend to their apartment.

But if he had been paying more attention to his surroundings, he might have noticed the floating figure watching him from the safety of a nearby tree and might have seen the unblinking green eyes following his every step.

Chapter Text

His actions made the eight-o-clock news.

They called them "heroic endeavors" for they knew nothing of the way the fight came about, simply the outcome and the apparent rescue of two tellers at a local bank that had been hit by a gang of high-grade thieves who were then thwarted by some mysterious figure who swooped "out of the night" and fended off the criminals. He hadn't given a name but, all across social media, he was already being dubbed a variety of names, anywhere from the Golden Feather to Oriole (neither of which sounded right to him. He was more than just a bird. He was a hippogriff, a creature of mythology and lore. He needed a cooler name than Golden Feather to strike fear into the heart of his enemies).

Tossing his phone onto his bed beside him, he fell facefirst into his pillow with a groan. Sensing they were alone once more, Lorr flew up to hover in front of the boy's face.

What troubles you, Master? he inquired. You appear most distressed.

"I need a name," Nicholas mumbled into the face of his pillow.

Lorr clicked his beak. I was not aware you were lacking one, as I was under the impression that your parents provided you with a very valid one upon your birth.

"No, not that kind of name!" Nicholas exclaimed. "The kind that makes me a superhero! I need a cool alter-ego! Like Tony Stark!"

Who's Tony Stark? I don't recognize that name. Is he someone famous in your time?

"No, he's Spider-man, but that's not what's important." Nicholas briefly lifted his gaze as the kwami landed on the top of his bed and settled to peer down at him with blazing hazel eyes. "If I am going to continue being this city's form of savior, then I am going to need to give them something to remember me by. And I just don't think Oriole is going to cut it."

Perhaps you should select a more appropriate name for your specific skillset? Lorr suggested, shaking his head and fluffing his feathers tiredly. The residue of syrup still clung to his talons and he absentmindedly shook it away. Something that speaks to you and makes you different from the rest of the world. What makes you special? Embrace that.

"You're right, Lorr!" Nicholas sat up straighter and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. "I do need to find something that makes me stand out. Hang on a sec." With that, he reached for his backpack, previously thrown carelessly against the wall, and drew out his sketchbook, sliding back to the hippogriff and flipping to a blank page. Lorr leaned over to study his hasty scribbles, occasionally clicking his tongue or ruffling a feather in agreement.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious of his artwork, Nicholas attempted to use his body to shield his sketches of the bird, done throughout the course of the previous days, along with a bunch of sticky notes penned in Arabic (though why he would bother when the bird could just as easily read it in in either language, he didn't know. A nervous habit, he supposed) describing the kwami's various abilities and what little history he knew of the bird's arrival plus where he'd been before (which, by the sound of it, was mainly in South America).

It seems you've been paying more attention to my instructions than you've been willing to admit, Lorr commented as he reached the part about the differing weights of the "tail-dagger-cloak" Nicholas had added that evening after helping Nino get ready for bed. Did you perhaps already begin writing down possible identities for yourself? He sounded sincerely surprised and Nicholas allowed a small smile as he carefully retreated to let the bird see the few suggestions he had already scribbled into the border.

"I thought they might come in handy at some point," he confessed. "So I thought some up at lunch. What do you think about the name Phoenix?" His pencil hovered above the first name. "It's a mythical bird. That could be perfect since you are technically mythical as well."

Eh. Quaint, but I don't think that's it. Aren't most phoenixes red and orange?

"Okay, then what about Archaeopteryx?" He scratched off the first and moved on to the second.

Kid, you can't even pronounce that correctly.

Nicholas sighed, scribbling over that one too. "That was my favorite," he muttered. "Raven?"

You're gold, not black.

"I mean, technically speaking--"

Seriously, no. Pick something else.

"Fine. You're a hippogriff, right?" He scrolled to the very last name on his list. The one he wasn't even sure he approved of. "So...what about Griffon?"

At this, the kwami paused his shuffling thoughtfully. Griffon, he repeated, the word rolling about in his brain. Not a pompous name, yet specifically noble and honorable in nature. Gentle, yet powerful. I think that name would suit you nicely.

You think so?

I do. It seems most appropriate.

"Nikolas!" his father called suddenly. "Please come downstairs for a minute!"

Hold that thought, Nicholas decided, hastily folding his journal back over and sliding off of his mattress, Lorr quick to disappear behind a potted fern as his holder cautiously crept to the door, careful not to wake Nino who was snoring softly across the way, undoubtedly dreaming of icecream and merry-go-rounds. I'd better go see what my parents want.

Should I come with you, Master? Lorr inquired from a rather comfortable-looking leaf.

No, that's okay, Lorr, Nicholas replied. I can do this one by myself. Just make sure you keep yourself hidden. I don't want to come back and find you as an actual stuffed animal. As he stepped out into the hall, he double-checked to make sure his miraculous was tucked securely into his shirt where it wouldn't be spotted by either of his parents who would absolutely ask too many questions he couldn't give them reasonable answers to.

See you later! Lorr chirped as Nicholas shut the door behind him and made his way through the hall and down the stairs, anticipating the worst and the sensations of dread growing with every step he took.

His parents were waiting for him in the living room as he slowly appeared in the entranceway. The tv was on and, to his concern, even from where he stood, he could see the recording of his fight playing on repeat. Heaven knows how someone managed to get that on film but he was suddenly even more afraid.

Had they recognized him, even with his hood and the mask over his eyes?

If the answer to that was 'yes', did this mean he was about to be grounded for the rest of his mortal life and half of the afterlife as well? His hands balled into tight fists and he quickly shoved them into his pockets, averting his gaze as he hit the bottom step and turned to face them, ready for the brunt of anger and the rush of disappointment and scolding.

"Please, Nicholas," Layla spoke softly, gesturing to an open seat on the couch across from them. "Come sit down. There's something we need to discuss with you."

Swallowing hard, knowing his fate was sealed and finding little comfort in the knowledge that Lorr was currently upstairs where he couldn't see his holder about to lose everything, Nicholas obeyed, cautiously moving to take a seat and fold his hands in his lap, his knees bouncing up and down anxiously.

So, this is it. Lorr, I'm sorry I let you down. I know you'll find a good holder, someone who could do you better than me. I'm just sorry it had to end this way. And for what it's worth, I was actually starting to enjoy you being around.

There was no quippy response from the kwami, nor did he expect there to be. The miraculous felt heavy against his chest as he waited for the striking disappointment to envelop him.

"What is this about?" he asked, letting himself slip back into his more passive Arabic so as not to throw anymore suspicion onto himself. If this talk was really about what he thought it was, it wasn't going to matter because he was already going to be buried six feet under. There was no need to make it twelve.

"Nikolas," Layla started, sharing a glance with her husband who obediently leaned forward to shut off the television (missing Nicholas's deep sigh of relief). "There's something your father and I would like to tell you."

Nicholas blinked. This...didn't sound like them telling him that he was about to be grounded and murdered and then grounded again for good measure. "Go on, I guess?"

"Do you remember what I told you the other night at dinner?" Ali went on. "About my possible job opportunity in Panama?"

Nicholas frowned. "You mean the one right before Nino went into a serious breakdown and I didn't get to finish eating? Yeah, I remember. But what's that got to do with--" He stopped himself just in time. He had been about to say, what does this have to do with Lorr and my recent escapades as a superhero?

The looks his parents shared told him all he needed to know. "This...isn't about...ah...this is...about that job offer, isn't it? You're...going to take it, aren't you? That's what you wanted to talk to me about, right?"

"You've always been good at knowing exactly what we are going to say before we do," Layla admitted, taking her husband's hand and squeezing it tightly. "Which is why we wanted to talk to you first."

Nicholas shrugged. "I know it's what's best for Ab," he answered nonchalantly. "If it really is what needs to happen, then I'm not going to cry or protest or get down on my hands and knees and plead for you to stay." Though that is exactly what I should do. Nino doesn't want you to go and neither do I, but one of us has to be grown-up here.

"That's why we wanted to tell you before Nino," Ali confessed. "We knew you would understand." Whereas Nino wouldn't, came the unsaid words.

"When do you have to leave?" Nicholas inquired, glancing back to his hands now, feeling his fists loosening slightly as the previous panic melted away to something resembling discomfort.

"Flight 156 takes off first thing in the morning," Ali answered. "Before you and Nino wake up."

"But it's only for a week," Layla added, seeing Nicholas's doubtful scowl. "Just for a quick flight over to sign some papers and shake some hands."

"You won't even notice I'm gone," Ali agreed.

Now, Nicholas doubted this, but he only nodded solemnly, his legs already trying to propel him upwards.

"Nikolas," Layla said gently, leaning forward to lay a hand on his knees. "Are you okay with this? It means you will have to step up and take a little more responsibility around here until your father returns. Do you think you can handle that?"

No, he didn't. But he also wasn't going to be the one to stand in the way of something he knew his father--no, the whole family--needed. And after four years, perhaps a change of scenery was what his father required. Nicholas could respect that. He just wished Ali would have considered taking him with him.

But, then again, he wouldn't be able to leave now. He'd made a promise to Lorr to try and help protect the city. He couldn't do that from halfway across the world. As much as he wanted to leave this perfectly insane city behind him to fend for itself, he had made a promise and he wasn't about to break it now.

"I'll do what I have to," he answered flatly. "Go ahead and go, Ab. I take care of things around here. It's only for a week after all." I think I can manage to avoid blowing the apartment sky high for that long.

Ali and Layla smiled and Nicholas shuffled from foot to foot anxiously. "And...uh...if that is all, I'd...I really think I should be getting off to bed. Early day of school tomorrow and all that."

"But, isn't tomorrow Saturday?"

"Oh," Nicholas winced. "Yeah, that. Yes, well, you see, the thing is," He was already backing toward the stairs as he spoke. "There's this big project coming up that I have already put off for far too long that is due first thing Monday morning that I now have to spend my entire weekend trying to complete, so nothing better than to get a good night's sleep and hit the ground running, right?"

Layla and Ali shared another glance. "That is a very responsible thing for you to do, Nikolas," Ali complimented, smiling boldly. "I'm glad to see you're beginning to take more interest in your studies. But, why the sudden interest all out of the blue? Just this last week you were talking like the entire act of high school was beneath you."

Nicholas shrugged again, hoping he was coming off as flippant as he pretended to be when, in fact, he knew the real cause. He just couldn't tell them that. "I guess...something Ms. Bustier said finally...got to me. High school is the point at which we decide who we are going to be and what we intend on doing for the rest of our lives. And I...guess I don't want to be that lazy guy who gets nothing done and acts as though the world owes him everything. I'm old enough to take...some more responsibility. I want to make friends and be a good student, I really do. Maybe focusing on my homework will give me the opportunity to...to do that."

His parents' beams were so bright he wondered if the astronauts could see them from Mars.

"Okay," he emphasized, his heels hitting the base of the stairs. "Well...I...uh...better be getting back to it then. There's still a lot to do so..um...have fun on your trip. I will see you when you get back. Drink some fancy lemonade for me while you're there."

His father laughed at this and Nicholas took this as his cue to turn and hurry back upstairs as his parents went back to their previous hushed discussion. Upon reaching the bedroom door, he heaved out a long sigh and fell against the wall. Well, that was weird.

What was weird, Master?

Nicholas almost chuckled as he heaved open the door and the kwami flitted to greet him. He wasn't about to tell Lorr that he'd been terrified to lose him but he suspected Lorr already knew.

Nothing, buddy. It's nothing. His eyes then fell on a sleeping mound of blankets and stuffed animals that he logically assumed hid his little brother. But even from where he stood, he could see the uncomfortable squirming and hear the uneasy whimpers rising from the pile. Fear was evident on the boy's face as Nicholas carefully crept over to sit on the edge of the mattress. He wasn't like this when I left! Lorr, is he okay?

The kwami hovered closer. I believe he is just having a nightmare, Lorr answered soothingly.

Can you tell what of? Nicholas inquired, hoisting himself further onto the bed and pulling the bundle of blankets and brother into his arms as he leaned back against the headboard, Nino still fighting invisible demons in his head, kicking and flailing with every ounce of his strength.

I cannot, Lorr chittered. I can only enter the minds of those I am bonded to.

Nicholas immediately moved to remove his pendant.

Don't even think about it! the kwami screeched. Miraculouses should not be passed between holders! It is not safe for kwami to be bonded to more than one holder!

Nino whimpered again, pulling away toward Nicholas's chest, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

Nicholas quickly dropped the pendant back into his shirt. Okay, I get it. Sorry.

Lorr clicked his beak. It is all right. I should have warned you. But you have nothing to be afraid of. The little master is simply having a bad dream. I believe it will pass here soon.

That's a relief, Nicholas breathed. But it's been a long day. I think I'm just going to stay here for a bit. Not falling asleep, mind you. this is just temporary until Nino is settled down a little.

If you say so, Lorr settled down on the lampshade beside them. Sweet dreams, Master.

"I'm not sleeping," Nicholas repeated aloud.

The kwami muttered something more but the boy didn't hear. His eyes closed and, in moments, he was sound asleep for the rest of the night.

The roar of an engine was what woke the boys late the next morning. It was Nino who awoke first. He shrieked, surprised to find his brother's arms wrapped gently around him. This, in turn, startled Nicholas awake, sending him flailing back and yanking them both off of the bed and onto the floor in a tangled, confused, bedraggled mess.

Lorr just stared down at them, laughing quiet, yet highly amused, squeaks. Until Nicholas managed to pull himself free long enough to give him a dirty look. Even that did not deter the kwami who continued to chirp as he darted off to hide before Nino ripped a blanket from his head and stared up at his elder brother with a look of betrayal.

"Hey!" Nicholas protested. "I fell too, you know! There's no need to look at me that way!"

There was a crash at the door and Dozer, apparently panicked by the noise, came pelting into the room and trampled over the boys in his excitement, backtracking to lick Nino happily across the face as the child started to stand.

"EW!" Nino protested.

"Good morning, Akhi," Nicholas laughed, freeing his brother from the jumble and tossing the blankets back onto the mattress. Lorr chittered disapprovingly at the mess but Nicholas ignored him.

"It not good morning," Nino complained, shoving the shepherd off of him with a scowl. "I is covered in lick!"

"Well, you're in need of a bath anyway," Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head as he shooed the dog from the room before he could catch wind of Lorr again and go on another insane rampage. One of those had been quite enough, thank you.

"Am not!" Nino protested.

Nicholas just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Am so," he argued right back. "Now come on, let's get you all ready. I think Mom mentioned you had big plans today."

"Play!" Nino agreed, allowing his brother to lift him into the air. "M-marinette house!"

"Oh, you're going to Marinette's?" Nicholas repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion.

"Uh-huh!"

"And I wasn't invited to come with you?"

Nino shook his head, smiling. "Yous too big!"

"I'm too big?" Nicholas laughed. "All right, I should probably be insulted by that, but I think I will let it slide this time."

Nino giggled and Nicholas led him out of the room. After both were up and their chores were complete, they made their way to the kitchen, Nino settled securely on Nicholas's shoulders. Layla was already there and she smiled as Nicholas yawned and moved instinctively for the fridge to scavenge for leftovers.

"Good morning!" Layla called, stepping aside to make room for them as she settled further against her bench to work the morning paper.

"Morning, mom," Nicholas answered, setting Nino down to pour them both a glass of milk as he peered over her shoulder to see the crossword of the day.

"Hi, mommy!" Nino blurted, scrambling for a seat where he could see what the adults were working on.

"Nikolas, what is this word here?" Layla asked, pointing to one of the longer clues.

Nicholas squinted at it, pretending to struggle to translate. "Telephone booth," he said. "Like the one from Doctor Who."

"Doctro whosis?" Nino tried to copy and then giggled at his own pronunciation.

"Oh, you and that television," Layla sighed with a smile as she went to write that in. "I don't understand half of what it is you find so fascinating about a man who travels through space in a big box."

"Time, Al'umu," Nicholas corrected automatically. "And he's an alien, not human. And it's the point of the story that I find so enjoyable. The Doctor isn't a man out for revenge and full of hatred, though he has every reason to be. He desires to protect and save instead of fight and hurt."

"Not you!" Nino butted in again, nibbling on a piece of leftover bacon.

Nicholas stuck his tongue out at him, slapping his cap onto the child's head and hiding his eyes. Nino shrieked happily and wrestled to remove the hat. "Get it off! Get it off! Yuck! Stinky hat! Ew!"

Nicholas gasped dramatically, bringing the cap back to his chest and holding it tightly. "How could you!" he exclaimed. "You're going to hurt his feelings! Don't listen to him, Gerald. You're a beautiful hat and you don't smell at all."

Lorr just about died laughing.

Nino just looked completely unimpressed. "Uh-huh," he said, heaving himself from the seat and grabbing his glass of milk, downing it as he made his way to the sink. Even on his tiptoes, he couldn't quite reach the top, which was Nicholas's cue to stand as well to help.

"Nikolas," his mother spoke again as he took the glass from his struggling brother and quietly washed it without a word of protest. "Would you be willing to take Nino to the Dupain-Chengs? I would do it but--"

"Sure, mom," Nicholas interrupted. "I'll take him. I know the way." At this, she flashed him a surprised glance. He shrugged, reaching for his coat and tugging it on even as Nino continued to stare at him lovingly. "I passed their bakery on the way home from school," he confessed. "It's a cute little shop. They have some good things there."

"Now, I hope you didn't make yourself a bother to those nice people," she reprimanded, giving him a stern look.

"Moi? Bother someone?" Nicholas smiled cheekily as Nino hastily went to grab his coat as well. "Perish the notion."

That earned him a piece of flying bacon to the face.

Laughing, he took Nino by the hand and started toward the door. "Don't worry, Al'amu," he said more seriously. "The Dupain-Chengs know me. They'll be all right with me showing up with Nino. And I promise I won't get into anyone's way."

"Hmmm. Well, all right. But come straight home once you drop him off. Tom and Sabine have already volunteered to bring Nino back later so you don't have to stay the entire time."

"Got it," Nicholas affirmed as Nino grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the door. Lorr! he thought quickly.

Coming, Master! the hippogriff responded. As soon as Layla's back was turned at a screeching alarm from the oven, the kwami dove out of the shadows and melted right through Nicholas's cap to settle on his head.

Nicholas yelped in shock but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. Nino's eyes trailed where Lorr had gone and the goofy grin spreading across his face was not one Nicholas could ignore. What was that? he demanded as he pulled open the door and herded the child out on the stairs.

I d on't know what you mean, Master.

You let Nino see you! Nicholas exclaimed. Again! What happened to the whole no-one-can-see-me-and-absolutely-no-one-can-know-I-exist thing? Are we just throwing that entire playbook out the window now?

The small master has already laid eyes on me once, Lorr pointed out. He has been vigilant in his code of silence. I do not believe revealing myself once more will cause any type of change whatsoever.

Nicholas only grunted, allowing Nino to take the lead and pull him away from their apartment and out into the morning bustle. He is not your little master, Lorr, he snapped back irritably. Last I checked, you are a kwami and thus can only bond to one person! I think that makes me your holder. Not Nino.

I do not understand this sudden aggression, Nicholas, Lorr replied calmly. Nor do I comprehend this simmering deep inside of you. These are not the actions or emotions of my flock. These are actions of Trekk's chosen.

Oh, yeah? Nicholas seethed. And what does your highly intelligent self call it then?

Jealousy, the hippogriff answered tonelessly.

Jealousy? Nicholas echoed, scoffing. You can't be serious! What could I be jealous of? Nino?

Yes, I think you are jealous of Nino. Perhaps not as deeply as some might be, but you are still resentful of the possibility of Nino sharing in your secret. Perhaps this is due to your feelings of inadequacy in both your social and home life, but you fear your brother learning your secret or, perhaps, even more, being part of your secret.

You're being ridiculous, Lorr, Nicholas huffed. I am not jealous of Nino. I just don't want him involved with you or kwami or anything until I know for sure that it is safe. I'm hovering a little close, I know. But he's my little brother. It is my responsibility to keep him safe.

Yes, it may be, Lorr sighed. But it's not yours alone. You are a kid as well, Master. Don't try to rush the process. Don't forget that you have two great parents who love you and Nino and who also want what is best for you both. It is your responsibility to take care of yourself as well.

Nicholas winced as Nino drug him around the corner, but the action wasn't from the pull on his arm. That's not something I am capable of.

You just haven't had the opportunity to do what is good for you yet, Lorr explained. I've only known you for a couple of days, Master, but you are a very loving individual who genuinely cares for the safety of others. Perhaps it is that caring that makes it difficult for you to see your own needs.

But that's why I have you, isn't it? Nicholas joked lamely. To make sure I don't go so far over the edge that I forget to be empathetic entirely?

That is not...really my purpose. I am a kwami. I am your friend and your mentor, but I am not known to be a reliable therapist.

Huh. Noted. You should get that embedded on a shirt.

I do not believe  I  would be well-equipped  with  a shirt, given the circumstances.

Nicholas didn't even bother to dignify that, rolling his eyes as they rounded the final bend and Nino took off in a full sprint for the bakery at the end of the street.

"Nino!" Nicholas yelled, darting after him. "Hang on a second! You can't just run off like that!" He lunged for his brother's arm, pulling him back just in the nick of time before he had the opportunity to crash into an elderly lady.

Nino whined as he was jerked away and Nicholas apologized hastily to the woman who only gave them a kind smile before continuing on her way. "You have to watch where you are going," he scolded the child.

"Sorry," Nino mumbled, his gaze dropping to the pavement, the tears already beginning to form.

Nicholas definitely wanted to reroute that before it got started. "Hey," he said quickly, scooping his brother into his arms amid the hoards of passerbys. "It's okay. Nino, look at me."

Nino did as he was told, eyes brimming with the betraying liquid, and Nicholas quickly swept the little boy closer. "It's okay, Akhi," he whispered. "I'm not angry at you. I'm sorry for yelling. I just...I want to keep you safe because I love you. And I can't do that if you're running away from me all of the time. Okay?"

"'kay," Nino sniffed, wiping his eyes. "Love you t-too."

Nicholas grinned. "I know," he retorted with a laugh as he set his brother back down and pulled open the door to the bakery, hearing the familiar chime of the bell, mouth watering at the delicious smell of fresh pastries flooding the street. The shop was already crowded upon their arrival and Nicholas carefully maneuvered Nino through the line of customers to the desk where both Tom and Sabine were attempting to dish out as many orders as they were receiving.

It was Sabine who first noticed the two boys standing off awkwardly to the side and she smiled as she loaded a box full of cupcakes. "Marinette is in the back office," she called over the bustle. "Go ahead and make yourselves at home. Nicholas, dear, did you enjoy the cake?"

The cake. 

Nicholas froze, the twang of guilt rocketing through his gut as he realized what fate the gift had received. In the midst of a real-life fight, he'd completely forgotten that he'd left it on the roofs before he'd gone all...all Griffon...on those robbers. Which, honestly, had been probably for the best. Seeing a superhero slinking back to his apartment with a box with a very distinguishable logo under his arm would probably have raised questions. It certainly would have tipped the Dupain-Chengs off. 

Nino wrinkled his nose and glanced up at him. "Cake?" he repeated. "You had cake? None for me?"

It was the first time Nicholas had ever heard his brother get all of his tenses correct, but he was too busy scrambling for a viable excuse as to why he hadn't brought home said cake. "It was great!" he lied, already pushing Nino toward the back room. "Yeah, really great! So great!"

Sabine smiled gently. "Great," she replied. "I'm glad you liked it."

Nicholas smiled weakly as he ducked into the back room after Nino. He winced upon hearing a crash of something big and heavy hitting the ground and he picked up the pace, sliding around the bend, fully anticipating the worst, to find the small dark-haired girl sitting on the floor, surrounded by an overturned tray of cookie cutters. She blinked, appearing dazed, and Nicholas moved to help her up. Nino beat him to it, scrambling across the uneven surface and wrapping his arms around her to fully lift her into the air. Marinette squealed happily at the presence of the taller child and spun to embrace him as Nicholas continued to clean up the mess.

Nicholas smiled, seeing their interaction as he scooped the cutters back onto the tray and pushed them both onto the counter above their heads. "Are you all right?" he asked Marinette and the girl nodded quickly, blinking up at him with wide bluebell eyes. 

"I'm clumsy," she whispered, hiding her face in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

Nino only hugged her tighter and Nicholas, seeing this, didn't have the heart to say anything otherwise. "It's okay," he assured her. "We got it all cleaned up. Nothing to be sorry for." He smiled as the beam spread across her face and she grabbed Nino's arm, dragging him after her to play with something out of Nicholas's line of sight. 

Lorr, are they safe? he inquired, stretching up onto his tiptoes to see over the counter.

Yes, Nicholas, Lorr answered. They are sitting on the floor playing with a large plastic house for some reason. And it seems the female has found a small bug and is trying to incorporate it into a tiny bathtub.

They're playing house, Nicholas explained. I think that means it is safe for us to slip out the back door. 

And what are you planning to do then? the kwami asked suspiciously.

We are going back to the scene of the crime to rescue a poor abandoned pastry. Nicholas stood at this and slowly began to back toward the exit. 

Oh, joy. Are you sure you don't just want to leave it there for a random stranger who might need it more than you? I'm sure it would be most appreciated.

No, Lorr! Think about it this way, if someone finds it there, how hard do you think it will be to figure out that it came from the same place where Paris's newest superhero magically appeared. And then they will trace it back here and Tom and Sabine will recognize it and they will tell my parents and then I will be grounded until the rapture and you will be taken from me and locked up in some kind of weird laboratory so they can run tests on you and try to figure out why you aren't like other birds.

I am not a bird, Lorr protested again as Nicholas ducked back underneath the archway and reemerged into the main store. He received an overly-joyous wave from Tom which he returned hesitantly as he all but ran for the door. The moment he hit the street, he was already running up his previous path toward the Reine and the site of his last fight. The sidewalks were not nearly as overloaded as before, though the rifts caused by the earthquakes still remained. Several construction crews were already on site, hard at work to repair the damage. 

Pulling his hat lower to shield his eyes, he quickened his pace to scurry around the workers. He elected to take a second alley to avoid raising suspicions, then doubling back to clamber onto the rooftops. He sucked in a deep breath as he cat-walked the edge of the building, trying not to look down, locate the pink and white box, and avoid being spotted by pedestrians who might get the wrong idea about his efforts. 

Now, where did I leave it?

You were in a hurry, Master, Lorr pointed out. You probably threw it to the side as you were trying to transform. I would suggest searching underneath a beam or rafter. 

Nicholas obeyed, hurrying over to the opposite end of the roof and ducking down onto his knees to search. At first, he didn't see it, but it did not take long to replay the events of the previous evening and retrace his steps to find it right where he'd dropped it--on the railing overlooking the dark, quiet alley.

The dark, quiet, and absolutely not deserted anymore alley.

An unusual shift of movement caught his eyes as he opened the box to check the intactness of his dessert. Someone stepped from the darkness below and Nicholas hissed, reacting accordingly, ducking down behind the edge of the building and setting the cake beside him. As he cautiously twisted to peer over the ledge out of sight, two more figures garbed from head to toe in charcoal gray emerged from a sidestreet to meet up with the first.

They...almost looked like the strange figure who had frightened the thieves off the last time. 

"Did you find anything?" 

The first, definitely a female, spoke, turning to face the new arrivals. She removed a pair of large glowing headphones from her head and crossed her arms as both shook their heads.

"Nothing to report at this time, Second Kila," the first answered, removing a similar pair of headphones and pulling down his mask to speak. "There are faint traces of a miraculous being activated here. We were successful in following the trail to the end of the bystreet before whoever it was transformed back. It was very sudden, just past the bystreet where the bank tellers reported intercepting him. We have a trail for about fifteen further steps and then the trace goes cold."

"Meaning whoever is using the miraculous must have been forced to transform back rapidly," the woman--Kila--reasoned. "And that gives us something to work with, after all, since that narrows down our window of possibilities to two alternatives; one, that a second threat was detected and he was forced to duck and run to avoid being located. Or two; he's not able to hold his transformation for a long time after calling on his kwami."

"Meaning what, Second?" the other cloaked man spoke, clearly confused. 

"Meaning, Isaac, I think we may have overestimated this new holder's competency. We aren't dealing with a professional miraculous thief here. We're dealing with a child who does not yet understand just what kind of mess he has walked into."

Nicholas's hands clenched into fists at this and Lorr chittered angrily. But neither made a move to engage. Not yet. Nicholas shifted his weight, grimacing as he moved to his more injured side. His eyes never left the three figures and he narrowed his eyes as they began to move across the clearing to investigate something else.  

What are they doing? Lorr whispered anxiously.

I don't know, Nicholas replied. I've already seen my share of weird this week. You're the smart one. What do you think?

Well, if I had to hazard a guess, I would say these people saw your fight on that large moving picture device at your home and have decided to investigate the circumstances around your ability to turn into a superhero. This is most unfortunate as it would be much more in our favor to avoid their attention and get away from this place unseen.

Thanks, Lorr, for once again stating the obvious. But something held Nicholas there. Perhaps it was the way the three spoke. He recognized a twinge of a familiar accent embedded in their French and even with Lorr's super-amazingly cool ability to translate everything he heard, he still knew what language they were using to address one another.

Egyptian. Egyptian Arabic.

It wasn't exactly like his native tongue, but it was close enough. Something like American and British English. Similar, yet, foreign.

Or maybe it was the name of the female that tipped him off. Kila. Why did that name sound so familiar? It wasn't one of his old schoolmates or teachers. They were definitely from a different portion of the African continent. 

But still...he knew that name.

What are they doing now? Lorr asked, pulling him roughly out of his thoughts. 

Nicholas glanced back at the alley. Uh...they're...looking around. I think they're searching for something, but I'm not sure what.

Us, perhaps, Lorr suggested dryly.

No, I don't think so. I mean, not necessarily directly. They know a miraculous is in use. How, I'm not sure, but they don't know who has your miraculous yet or they would have already broken down my door and dragged us both away.

Cheery. Well, perhaps now would be the best time for us to make our escape while they continue not knowing who you are.

Nicholas wanted to stay and learn more. He knew something was going on. He could feel it. But Lorr urged once more, tugging at their bond pleadingly and he slowly moved to follow the kwami's instincts, gathering up his box and hurrying away from the ledge to disappear once more amongst the crowds as nothing more than an ordinary teen out enjoying his weekend. 

Be wary, Master, Lorr advised as he ducked his head and shuffled past the alley connecting the bystreets where he was in plain view of the miraculous seekers. Keep your eyes low and keep moving. You have nothing to hide. Don't give them any reason to give you a second thought.

Which was easier said than done. In his haste to avert his gaze, he tripped over an uneven portion of the sidewalk and pitched forward with a yelp. His cap flew off as he threw out his hands to catch himself and Lorr tumbled onto the ground in front of him.

Immediately, all eyes were drawn at his sudden commotion and the small feathered creature landing before him. 

The woman's jaw dropped even as he scrambled to recover, swiping his hat at Lorr and scooting him up, already staggering away, his legs and feet turning to lead as the panic engulfed him.

"Hey!" Kila yelled. "Hey, you! Kid! Come here!"

RUN! Lorr shrieked. 

And run Nicholas did. He tore down the street, shoving aside anyone who wasn't quick enough to get out his way. Less than a moment later, the strangers were on his trail, yelling something he couldn't hear. Blood roared through his brain as he pushed himself to go faster, rounding a bend and nearly pitching into the street as he barreled past the bakery and back toward the local zoo. It was the weekend and the attraction was always packed. He could lose them there.

"HOLDER! STOP! WAIT!" the woman yelled again. "HOLD ON!"

But he didn't stop. Heart pounding dangerously hard and pain flaring through his ribcage, he rounded one last corner and vaulted the employees only sign sanctioning off part of the park, ducking behind a shed. 

His pursuers were gaining ground. 

Completely freaking out now, mind revolving around; They want to kill me. They want to kill me. I am going to be so dead, he forced himself to stay low and keep moving. 

He emerged onto the main path near the panther exhibit and as soon as his shoes hit the solid pavement, he picked up his pace toward the tropical birds display. There were a number of winding paths where he could throw them off his trail. 

Another shout, this one almost sounding like his name, and they burst from a side path. The woman emerged first and she skidded to a halt, holding up her hands in front of her, panting breathlessly. "Please," she gasped. "We don't want to hurt you. Please, just give us the miraculous. You don't know what it can do."

Nicholas shook his head, backing away and resetting his cap (with Lorr inside) firmly back into place. "I can't do that. He needs me to protect him." To protect him from you.

"He's not yours to defend!" Kila snapped. The two flanking her each took a threatening step forward but she held them back with a sharp glance. "Now, do what is right and give him back to us so we can protect him!"

"You'll have to take him from my cold dead body," Nicholas sneered. And then, without a care of who was around to see him, he braced himself and called Wings Unfurl before any of them could move to try and stop him.

The transformation washed over him and he called on the talonblade before he'd fully finished, the blade sliding perfectly into his gloved hands. He stepped back, ready to fight, but the others did not move to copy him.  The woman looked...strangely calm. She shared a glance with the man on her left and he responded accordingly, rushing forward, swinging a blue, magically charged staff over his head. Nicholas swiftly ducked and slid to the left. A tingling sensation rushed through his veins and he spun just in the nick of time to parry a second attack from the second man and push back against his weapon with his own. 

Adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream, somehow finding him the strength to force his assailants back. He spun his blade, bracing himself for another attack, but both backed away from him now to stand beside the woman who folded her arms thoughtfully. "The Guardians were right about you," she remarked. "You are resilient. Perhaps a little hot-headed for Wisdom, but effective and brave nevertheless."

Nicholas gritted his teeth. "Less talk, more fighting," he ordered, but the woman just shook her head, a small smile creeping onto her lips. 

"Save your strength, young man. I am not your enemy. Be careful who you turn that blade on, for not everyone is out to get you. Go home now. We will be seeing much more of each other soon enough."

"I wouldn't count on it," Nicholas spat, but the woman just continued to smirk, signaling for her men to follow her, and in a moment, all three had vanished into the fog, leaving the hero standing there, trying to wrap his brain around what had just happened. 

You okay, Lorr?

I am well, Master, thank you.

Who was that?

I  do not know.

Well, she certainly knew who you were, buddy. 

I have never seen that woman before in my life.

I believe you, man, Nicholas sighed, averting his eyes from the now empty street, drawn to a small vendor's shack where a television was blaring out the morning's news. Nicholas started to turn away to find a place to safely detransform when something caught his eyes.

The screen flickered and words flashed across the screen. There was fire and scraps of metal raining down from the heavens. A crash. There had been a crash. Every part had been wrenched and twisted and reduced to smithereens.

Master, Lorr began. Isn't that--

 A sickening nausea swelled through Nicholas's stomach and his heart stopped. He didn't wait to see the number displayed by the news reporter. He already knew what it was going to say. He didn't know how, he just did.

No...

He didn't hesitate. Red flashed through his brain and tears exploded in his eyes.

And then he turned around and ran.

The wind blew gently over the dry, dismal field, brushing cautiously across the heads of corn and wheat, and kicking up a wave of dirt in its wake. Two sharp ears poked from between the large stalks of grass and a small giggle drifted loftily among the breeze as the crops below sifted and separated, sliding away to permit passage to a small creature.

Not far away, a door smacked shut and the movement instantly ceased. A voice called over the gentle whispers of nature and two sparkling eyes peeked through the leaves of corn to watch for the owner of the command. It was a summon, a plea to return home. Four paws gently touched the dirt and a puffed tail swiped around a stalk, intently waiting. A few miles away, a young girl stepped onto her front deck, stretching and adjusting the bolo tie to sit more comfortably underneath the collar of her flannel.

The creature twisted an ear, already attent and alert. A wag prepared in its tail and the excited yip already on its fangs as the words were spoken and everything vanished into a swirl of jubilation, brown, and excitement. Behind them, thunder rumbled, warning of the approaching storm. Together they turned, sensing the crackling power in the air and the terrible assurance that everything was not as it should be--that something had upset the balance.

A great power had been awakened and the consuming fire of destruction would soon spread across the horizon. Death and fear tainted the otherwise still valley, and in the midst of all of this, somewhere...halfway across the world...something bad had happened.

Chapter Text

"Ala'mu!" Nicholas screamed, bursting through the door, nearly upsetting both himself and his kwami as his hat almost went flying through the air a second time. Lorr shrieked but Nicholas ignored him as the door slammed shut. Layla's gaze shot up from the TV which Nicholas now noticed was repeating scenes from the crash, as well as the flight number.

156.

His father's flight.

"Mom," he repeated, reverting to French as he slowed to approach the couch. "Please tell me that's not--"

But Layla just shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes, phone already to her ear. Nicholas silently sunk down beside her, stunned into silence. Lorr chittered something he suspected was intended to be reassuring but he couldn't hear him through the roaring terror crushing his lungs, making it hard for him to inhale.

What happened? The words flashed across the bottom of the screen; the details of the incident as well as the time (4:30 that morning), the location (just over Portugal), and the current suspected cause of the crash (unknown at this time, believed to possibly be a mechanical malfunction).

Master, I do not think it would be wise to continue observing this, Lorr tried to discourage as the barrage continue and Nicholas found himself unable to tear his eyes from the screen, as we do not know for sure that your father was amongst them.

Nicholas wanted to believe him, but one look from his mother as the phone went once more to voicemail was all it took to shatter those hopes. Ali wasn't picking up. He wasn't picking up and Nicholas involuntarily moved to yank out his own phone and try, though he knew it would be of no help and two phones trying to call at the same time would be pointless.

Lorr! he cried desperately as Layla finally gave up the fight and sat back in her chair, visibly pale and shaking and looking ready to throw up. Nicholas couldn't say he blamed her. Tell me you know what's going on! Tell me that Ab is okay and that this is just a horrible nightmare and any minute now we will wake up and Nino will still be in my arms and this insanity will never have happened!

I am sorry, Master, Lorr whispered, and truly, he sounded it. But I know very little of your world's methods of transportation. This is not a dream and I cannot sense your father's presence. He does not appear to have remained in the city.

Oh, what do you know anyway? Nicholas snapped back, standing up in a hurry, shocking both his mother and his kwami. Red surged through his brain and he gritted his teeth, trying to contain his emotions and cap the brimming anger pulsing through his veins. You're just the stupid kwami of wisdom, right? It's not like you claim to know everything about everything, is it? It's not like it's your job.

Nicholas, I think you need to take a step back and give yourself time to--

No! Nicholas yelled furiously, cutting the bird off, missing the squeak of fear from the hippogriff. No more telling me what to do! No more giving me your little speeches about 'calming down' and 'taking it slow'. My father is out there and I don't even know if he is dead or alive! I thought you were supposed to know! I thought you were supposed to help me!

I am trying to help you! Lorr protested as Nicholas backed away from the television once again and spun to storm up the stairs to his room, not catching his mother's tearful gaze as he did, mind already set on his next task at hand: finding who or what had done this in the first place and who was going to pay. You are not thinking clearly! The grief is clouding your judgment! You are going to do something you will regret! We should be focusing on those people chasing us and how they could know who you are and what to do if they come back!

I've regretted everything since I put on the miraculous! Nicholas snapped as he threw open his door and let it smack back into the wall. Normally, he would have cringed at the amount of force he'd inflicted, but today he didn't even hear it. A gift? This is no gift! This is a curse! I should never have listened to you! I didn't want to be a superhero! I didn't choose this life! But you told me that it was the right thing to do! That it would help people. Save people. But I couldn't even save my own father! That doesn't make me a hero! That makes me a loser! I should never have put on this stupid necklace!

His hands fumbled for the collar of his shirt and Lorr immediately phased through his hat with a wail of protest as the boy reached for the fastener to yank the miraculous from around his neck. No! Don't take it off! Please! You don't want to do this! I'm sorry you couldn't do more to help your father but please listen to me! You will regret returning the miraculous! You won't bring him back by renouncing me! You can't help anyone like this!

No, Nicholas thought cooly, hesitating, the pendant halfway from his neck, clenched tightly inside his fist. I can't. I never wanted to anyway. I told you that. I'm not a hero. I never have been.

But what about Nino? Lorr tried again pleadingly. You did all of this to protect him, didn't you? What if what Grimm said was true and something really bad is coming to the city? Don't you want to try and protect the little m--Nino too?

You're not listening to me! Something bad has already come to the city, Nicholas spat. And it's just ripped my family apart! You don't understand that, do you? Do kwami even have families? I don't know because, just like everything else in my life, I don't know anything at all!

But that gave him an idea. Was this was Grimm had been trying to warn him about? If so, he hadn't done a very good job of it, but that begged another question; if this was what the hero had been foretelling, what else did he know that he hadn't told Nicholas? And Lorr wasn't entirely out of his mind either. Who had those people back there been? Why had they been searching for his miraculous? How had they known who he was?

And treading further onto that train of thought, now that they clearly knew who he was, why weren't they pounding down his door in the effort to kidnap him and drag him away to some double-oh, off-grid black-site hidden from every device on the face of the planet?

Take a deep breath, Master, Lorr encouraged, still eyeing the handled charm anxiously. In and out. In and out. Give yourself time to grieve. I pushed you too far and I apologize. Please, let's sit down and we can talk through this together.

You're right, Nicholas agreed, releasing his vice-grip on his pendant (Lorr sighed in relief) and taking a step further into his room where he could safely close the doors behind him and avoid being overheard by his already-distraught mother. I do need to talk this out.

Thank you, Lorr breathed.

But I can't do it here, Nicholas decided with a shudder, glancing around at the dark, and slightly cold, room. I need to go somewhere...a little more private...where I can work things out with you and with myself.

What do you have in mind? the kwami chittered worriedly.

You'll see, Nicholas replied. You trust me, don't you?

That is usually the case.

Well, then, you can trust me now. I am not going to renounce you and I know you're right. Something is definitely going on around here and it's definitely not safe for me to leave you and your miraculous unprotected. I just need to get away from here and clear my head. I can't stay, not when I can feel him everywhere. "Wings Unfurl."

Lorr nodded and chirped his consent as he vanished into the charm and Nicholas closed his eyes as the heat enveloped him. He wasted no time running to his window as he felt the anger melt away, Lorr's consciousness overwhelming him as he vaulted easily onto the fire escape and made his way to the edge of the stairs overlooking the next complex's angled rooftop.

Perhaps this is not the best night for learning parkore, Lorr advised. You are not fully in your right mind and I do not think it would be a wise option to attempt something new while you continue in this state.

I am a bird, Nicholas tried to argue back, positioning himself to lean over the edge of the railing thoughtfully. I need to learn to fly--in a sense. I don't look nearly as convincing coming in from the streets below.

Lorr sighed heftily. They say sometimes failure is the only way for the human race to learn. I do wish you would just take my word for it, but, alas, I fear your mind is nearly impossible to influence.

Good. You've noticed, Nicholas snarked, heaving himself to the edge to the escape and eyeing the leap curiously. So you can save your breath and not try then.

They say pride cometh before a fall.

I am not going to fall, Lorr. Honestly, you have so little faith in me.

It's not you that I distrust, Master. Rather, your athleticism. You are an artist, not an athlete.

Why can't I be both?

Because that is not how you were designed! Lorr cried. You are going to get yourself hurt!

I'll be careful, Nicholas assured him. If I think it's too hard, I'll back off. But you gave me this power. Don't you want me to find out what I can do with it?

I can tell you what you can do! Lorr chittered fretfully. You're a human being, not a falcon! You can't fly!

Aha! So you do know Marvel characters after all! On three then!

No, I meant an actual falcon and--

That was about the time Nicholas braced himself and finished his countdown, throwing himself violently off the railing. He was suspended in midair for a split moment and he screamed a long, betraying cry as he came down a lot harder than he'd been expecting. He threw out his hands to catch himself as his feet came down first and his knees buckled underneath his weight. He stumbled forward, nearly tumbling over himself in his haste to correct his leap. He dug in his heels and flailed for something to grab on to. His fingernails scraped against the shingles and he twisted himself over his arms, managing to grab ahold of a loose shamble and heave himself to an abrupt halt, his legs swinging wildly over the end of the rooftops.

"Whoa!" he shrieked, scrambling back up to safety and falling onto his back with a grunt, panting wildly and pulling his hood to shield his eyes and the tight, panic-stricken expression he knew he must have been showing.

Oh, my sweet gooey pancakes! Lorr cried, his voice a hundred times too high. What was that? Are you all right?

Oh...I'm all right...Nicholas groaned, blinking away the pulsing lights and the waterfall of adrenaline cascading over his veins. Just...just a little winded...that's all. Whooph.

I warned you that it would be risky, Lorr reasoned. Yet, you did not choose to heed my suggestions.

No pain...no gain, Nicholas grunted dismissively, heaving himself up, ignoring the swirling landscape below. I'm fine. I just...came down a little harder than I'd been...expecting.

That would be an understatement. Are you feeling better now, Master? Perhaps well enough that we could return to your room without any daring escapades in broad daylight?

What? Nicholas asked, his eyes already drifting past the roof to a series of chimnies four rooftops away, swooping down in just the perfect way for him to slip in between and peer out at the noisy city. You afraid I am going to do something I'll regret?

Lorr, wisely, gave no response to that, though Nicholas felt the uncomfortable shuffle of feathers as he started his catwalk to the adjacent rooftops. The kwami muttered something incoherent about responsibilities and recklessness but Nicholas didn't hear all of his reprimand and he knew by now that it was probably better to leave Lorr alone when he got like that. He was most likely just remembering his last holder and confirming Nicholas's suspicions of why she had been so much better for the hippogriff than him.

After all, it had taken him...what? Two days to blow his identity? That must have been a world record. If there was a category for least competent hero to ever walk the face of the planet, he was sure he would be taking home gold for that one.

He exhaled a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he carefully made his way between the chimnies and took a seat against one, folding his arms and letting his legs dangle over the edge of the railing toward the ally below. He was at the perfect angle to see the sun peek its head through the center of the Eiffel. Below, circling and winding through the streets like little ants, the roads were congested with early morning traffic. It all seemed too insignificant from where he sat, so high up that he towered above the rest of the world. They were just ordinary citizens, going about their daily lives, never knowing what secrets lay amongst them. Truth, lies, honesty, deceit, fear, excitement, apprehension; thanks to his miraculous, he could sense all of that. It all came at him in a rush of feelings, sounds, a rush of emotion that nearly sent him toppling backward and curling up with his arms over his head in the attempt to block it all out. It was too much to bear and he felt his hands tighten around the railing as he tried to steel himself against the onslaught.

Why can I feel them? he inquired of his kwami weakly. All of them...why...if they are not bonded to you?

Humanity is a very complex species, Nicholas, Lorr answered gently. Capable of great levels of empathy and understanding. Some have the ability to understand and the desire to help those around them in any means necessary. They are naturally in tune with themselves and the needs of those they encounter. Others...are not...and, often, though why is not yet understood, my miraculous has the ability to bring that trait to the surface.

It is a terrible feeling, Nicholas remarked.

So is living without a heart, Lorr shot back. I only try to compensate for that.

Nicholas had a sharp remark prepared for that obvious low blow, but as he opened his mouth to find the words, he was interrupted by a loud thump of something dropping down from a ledge behind him. A moment later, an incurable wave of heat and red blew past him and he blinked sharply as the boy prepared to take a seat to his right.

Regaining control over his body, Nicholas scowled at the superhero and resorted once more to his leave-me-alone-right-now face. "Please don't."

Grimm froze, halfway squatting down, and shot him a confused glance.

"Please don't tell me that everything is okay or that you understand what I am going through," Nicholas elaborated. "You don't. No one does."

Grimm sighed and finished his motion, settling next to the Moroccan and folding his hands patiently. "You're right," he said, earning a surprised stare from the boy. "I don't know what it's like to lose a parent. My father has been gone from my life for years now. But that doesn't mean I don't want to help if I can."

"How did you know?" Nicholas breathed, frowning at the taller boy. "About my dad? I mean, I didn't tell you that I--"

"You didn't really need to," the dragon responded with a shrug. "I saw the news and then I saw you up here looking like you were planning on moping until kingdom come. I can put two and two together. I figured you could use some cheering up."

"I don't mope," Nicholas countered sharply. "And were you watching me? That's not cool, man."

"Did I mention I was here to cheer you up?" Grimm did not seem at all put out by the rebuke.

"You don't have to. I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good. I'm lousy at telling jokes anyway."

Nicholas squinted, getting, for some odd reason, the feeling that Grimm was somehow mocking him. Grimm smiled sheepishly and leaned back to copy Nicholas's unimpressed position. "So, I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it?" the dragon superhero guessed.

"No."

"You sure? I'm an excellent listener."

"I really don't want to talk, Grimm."

"Okay, your call. So, let's talk about something else then. You've had your miraculous for about three days now. What do you think about it?"

"I don't know," Nicholas answered, finally turning to face him. "It depends on what you know about the people who were chasing me this morning and trying to steal him back from me."

Grimm visibly paled. "What?"

"That's what I thought too," Nicholas said unflinchingly at the other hero's reaction. "But I was really hoping you could tell me that those people were friends of yours and that I didn't need to be afraid of the possibility that they...know who I am."

Grimm froze. "How?"

Nicholas flinched back. "I...I don't know. I...may have...accidentally...shown him...to a couple of people and they in turn may have...tried to kidnap me and stuff me away to Area 51."

Grimm groaned loudly. "Great. Does Paris even have an Area 51? Nevermind, that's not important right now. They didn't get your miraculous, I see. At least that is good. However, that does leave a bit of a problem if they have seen you in your civilian form."

"Well, what can we do about it?" Nicholas inquired, sitting up now, invested in hearing the more experienced hero's words of wisdom. "It's not like we can change time or anything."

"No," Grimm agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Sadly, we cannot. This will take a bit of time to sort out on my part, especially now since I was going to suggest we begin the first stages of our plans tonight. But no matter, we can simply adjust for this outcome. I can deal with those people after you. Does anyone else know about your kwami?"

Nino, Nicholas's mind flashed but he immediately shied away from that thought as he caught the slightly dangerous look in the boy's eyes. A shiver danced his spine and he opened his mouth to inquire just what Grimm meant by deal with, but the words that came out were entirely different. "No, no one. I haven't told a soul."

Grimm's eyes narrowed momentarily before he made the first moves to stand and Nicholas hastily scrambled to do the same. "Very well," he replied. "If that is all and you are sure that you are well, then I will be on my way to hunt down your hunters. An interesting turn of events, if you ask me." He grinned and pulled his cape closer as he made himself ready to leave.

"Uh..." Nicholas fumbled to compile his thoughts. "I don't...what..what should I do now that I...my father...I don't--"

Grimm held up a hand to silence his jumbled attempts. "You do not need to do anything for now. Go home. Be with Nino and your mother. They need you more than anything right now. Let me handle this. I will let you know once I have handled the situation and it is safe to meet again. Oh, and Nicholas? One more thing."

The golden hero was heading toward the apartment complex now and he paused upon hearing his name, twisting back to face the other hero with a slight frown.

"Life doesn't always play fair," Grimm went on. "You can follow the rules but that doesn't mean everyone else will. Sometimes you have to take a chance to find out how great you really can be."

Nicholas smiled ruefully, thinking of all the insane feats he had attempted (and in some cases; accomplished) since putting on Lorr's miraculous for the first time. But no matter how much good he felt he had accomplished, he kept circling back to one ultimately terrible possibility: Was his attempts to change himself into a hero what got his father killed? The reports said mechanical failure, but he didn't buy that for one second. It had been deliberate. He just knew it.

"I tried that once," he said slowly, twisting back on the balls of his heels, making sure he was in full range of the dragon before going on. "I tried that once and I lost everything because of it."

Grimm frowned now as well. "'Everything'?" he echoed. "How can you claim to have lost everything when you have a little brother and a mother who both love you dearly? No, you have had tragedy in your life. No one would deny that. But you haven't lost everything, Nicholas Lahiffe. Not yet."

Nicholas didn't respond.

Grimm took a step closer and then, when the boy didn't run screaming the other way, he took another, extending his fist to the teen and smiling gently. "I know you don't trust me and I get that. You don't know me and yet I am asking you to throw away everything you know to help me. I admire your courage and I want you to know, everything I am doing, I am doing to make the world a better place. A safer place. A place where what happened to your father will never have to happen to anyone else. That is what I am fighting for. And you can back out now if you want. It's grown more complicated than I had anticipated. I wouldn't blame you if you were too scared to go on. I would probably do the same thing in your shoes. The decision is yours alone. I won't try to persuade you. You need to do what is best for you and for your family."

Nicholas stared, first at Grimm and then down to the fist and then back up to him. "I..." he took a long, intentional breath, squaring his shoulders and bringing his eyes up to meet the taller boy's. "I don't think I want to give this up," he confessed, gesturing to his entire getup. "You were right before, when you said this was me. It is. It just took me a while to see that for myself. And you are right about everything else as well. I need to protect my family and I will do whatever I have to to do that. I want to be a superhero and I want to help you, Grimm. Whatever it takes."

Grimm blinked. "Really?" He sounded shocked.

Nicholas returned his smile and then carefully brought his fist up the other boy's so that they knocked gently. His very first-fist bump. "Really, dude. Whatever you're planning, I want in."

There was no disguising the beam on the red hero's face now.

"But," Nicholas warned, dropping his hand and backing away to frown seriously. "There is one more thing I think we should talk about before this is all said and done."

Grimm looked confused.

"No more of this Nicholas Lahiffe business," the shorter boy explained. "I can't protect this city if everyone knows my true identity. I have to become something--or, rather, someone--else. Someone who will never lead back to my family or anything from my past."

"I see," Grimm commented, standing back and folding his arms with a smirk. "And what exactly are you intending the world to know you as then if not Nicholas Lahiffe?"

Nicholas grinned as he pulled the rim of his hood down over his head, feeling his hat melting in with it beneath and the gentle coos from Lorr as the name once more rolled to the front, this time with a lot more certainty than he had felt before while reading through a list of names on a sheet of paper.

"Nicholas Lahiffe may be who I really am, but he is not all of me. From now on, you can call me Griffon."

Chapter Text

Sleep came restlessly for Nicholas that night.

The Dupain-Chengs had dropped Nino off early, having heard what had happened on the news, but the elder brother hadn't been there to meet them. Instead, he'd holed himself up in his room for the rest of the day and nothing anyone, not even Lorr, could say would convince him to come out from underneath his burrow of blankets and misery. The effects of the miraculous had worn off shortly after his transformation and he had been left with nothing but a mountain of despair and anger and grief--some of which was directed at himself for not being able to do anything.

But Lorr had been right, just like he always was. It wasn't like he could have gotten to the airport soon enough to do anything to prevent the crash. Even if he had, no one would have listened to him. He was just a kid and he admittedly knew nothing about planes or mechanics. What could he have said? That somehow, without any hard evidence, he knew the plane was going to crash before it did? Or that his six-year-old brother had somehow predicted the impossible? That would have gotten him sent home or possibly even arrested for trespassing and thrown into an asylum for the rest of his life.

Plus, they all would have thought he was some crazy end-of-the-world fanatic because there was no way a sixteen-year-old kid should know the things he did unless he had somehow been involved in the crash.

No, it was much safer to remain where he lay, petrified and plastered to his pillow with his guilt. He ran no risk of revealing his identity or getting himself captured this way. In the solitude of his own walls, he was safe from the rest of the world. It was just right for him and it was where he should have stayed. Always.

Of course, fate--or rather, the big man upstairs--had other plans and once again hadn't thought it necessary to inform Nicholas of this.

At a quarter-after-six, the doorbell rang.

Nicholas started from his moping, arching up from underneath his mound of blankets and yanking an earbud from his ears as he spun toward the offending sound. Lying against him, awoken from his slumber, Nino's head also popped up at the sound and Nicholas averted his gaze to admire his watch. Their mom had just gone out to pick up a few groceries from the downtown market but it was way too soon for her to be back.

"Mommy?" Nino questioned, rubbing sleep and dried tears from his eyes as Nicholas groaned and heaved himself to his feet, forcing his brother to move off to the side to let him out.

"No, Akhi. I don't think so. Wait here for a second. I'll go see."

Lorr squeaked, diving around him and disappearing into the outer rim of his sweatshirt, but Nicholas ignored him, busy trying to tame his unkempt and wrinkled appearance. Who could be at the door at this time of day? Lorr wondered aloud.

No idea, Nicholas responded, hurrying across the threshold toward the door just as whoever was outside knocked a second time. Stay close.

The kwami instantly pressed himself closer against the teen. I am right here should you require me, Master.

Thanks, bud. Nicholas reached the door and carefully cracked it open. Two people stood on his stoop, a woman with long dark hair and a man who looked as though he could be her grandfather. "Uh...may I help you?" he tried, very aware of how disgruntled he must have appeared.

"Nicholas Lahiffe?" the woman spoke, glancing up from some kind of weird tablet-like device and giving him a frown deep enough to challenge the faults of California.

"Uh, that depends on who is asking."

The stone-face remained. "Are you alone right now?"

"I...don't think I should tell you that either."

The woman looked less than impressed at this. "Enough games," she demanded. "We have no time for stalling! Where is he?"

Nicholas froze, one hand still on the doorknob, and he immediately took half a step backward, bracing to slam the door once more in their faces. Lorr clucked quietly--disapprovingly--but Nicholas was too busy trying not to panic and retain his illusion of innocence to try and decipher what the sound meant. "Um...who do you mean? What 'he' are we referring to...exactly?"

"You don't have to lie to us, Nicholas," the elderly man spoke, his voice a lot deeper and a lot calmer than the woman's. It sounded--familiar--but he could not place where he had heard it before. He folded his hands neatly in front of him and smiled pleasantly up at the teen. "We are not here to harm you or your family. We have just come for the miraculous of Wisdom. Please return him to us and we will leave without a fuss."

Ice drenched his core and he immediately reached for the pendant (still tucked into his t-shirt), shuffling back another step. "No..." he croaked. His knees felt like lead but still, he forced them to respond over his splutter of, "I can't...I don't...I won't..."

Oh, yes, he hissed disapprovingly at his own stammering. Very brave. That'll tell them all right.

"It wasn't a question of 'can you'," the woman sniffed, lowering her tablet to finally glance up at him, hazel eyes burning fire, the glint of a thinly-wired bracelet flashing momentarily in the dim hall light. "You need to give Lorr to us. He is not safe with you. He was never supposed to be yours to begin with!"

"Kila," the man warned, gently taking her arm as she began to advance on the boy who shrunk back fearfully. "Easy. Remember, this boy is not our enemy."

She glared heatedly and Nicholas gulped, a hand moving unconsciously toward the bird pressing worriedly against his side. He could feel his heart pounding and he wasn't sure if he was breathing correctly or breathing at all for that matter. Lorr, sensing his fear, only held tighter, his talons digging into his skin. But Nicholas didn't even flinch, his determined (and terrified) gaze holding the two...

...who were they anyway?

They knew he had a miraculous. They knew about Lorr and had asked for him by name. So they couldn't have just been lucky bystanders who had accidentally seen him transform in some side street when he hadn't been paying attention. They knew exactly what they were after and what they were dealing with. But how had they found him so quickly and how did they already know his name?

"Nicholas," the elder went on, delicately pushing the woman back and positioning himself to take the brunt of the boy's fear. He wasn't extremely off-putting, standing there in a bright shirt that probably belonged in the 90s with a half-trimmed goatee that could have rivaled Mr. Miyagi's any day, but he was still there and it was apparent that he still wanted to take Lorr--the literal first and probably best friend Nicholas had ever, or would ever, have. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once. Perhaps we can talk about this in a different manner." He gave the woman a significant glance that she blatantly tried to ignore.

"What do you...mean by that...exactly?"

"Perhaps we should start by addressing the topic of why we are here in the first place," the man suggested. "And that begins with us introducing ourselves properly and in a way that does not warrant that door being slammed in our faces. My name is Wang Fu and this is Kila Custos. Long ago, we were acquaintances of your father."

What? Lorr squawked.

"What?" Nicholas blurted, wincing. "How...what...how..." He stopped here to inhale deeply through his nose and throw all of his panic and stammering together. "How did you know my father?"

"That is an excellent question, one that we can answer in good time. May we come in?" Unlike the woman, there was no anger or forceful nature about his words. He smiled once more and moved to rub a weird green pendant on his wrist. They both had some kind of bracelet, Nicholas noticed. He wondered if that had something to do with--

"Nickie?"

The smallest of small voices caught him off guard but he only spared half of a glance behind him, knowing Nino was standing there. He moved himself to shield the child, but at the same time, he lost his grip on the doorframe and Kila took advantage of this, pressing forwards and pushing him back into the apartment to the point at which she could close the door behind them and cut off Nicholas's only hope of escape.

Dozer barked a warning, appearing at Nino's side, fur and hackles raised to attack. Nino was holding him back for now, but Nicholas knew it wouldn't take much to trigger him to let go.

"It's all right, Nino," Nicholas assured him, still searching for his footing from the box rush. He could feel Lorr moving up his shirt to hide closer to his neck and he swallowed back the tremble in his words. "Why don't you take Dozer and go back to your room? I'll be there in a moment once I show our guests to the door."

Nino hesitated and Dozer growled. Nicholas kept his eyes on the intruders, warily bracing himself to transform and fight them if they took one more step into his home.

But he couldn't do that with his little brother standing right behind him. He had to get him out of the way. "Nino!" he pleaded. "Go on!"

"But," Nino began, an unsettling hitch in his tone. "I wanna see tur--"

"You should listen to him, young man," the man--Fu, did he say his name was?--spoke, giving the child half a glance before quickly looking away to continue restraining Kila from doing something drastic. "This is a conversation for adults. It would be nothing of interest to a child."

"I is big kid!" Nino protested indignantly. Dozer whined and pawed the carpet at his youngest owner's tone.

Fu and Kila chuckled, though what was so amusing to them was lost on both Lahiffes. "Okay, big kid," Fu went on, leaning against his cane perhaps a little too much to actually need it, in Nicholas's opinion. "Tell you what, I have a friend here with me. If you go up and play in your room like your brother asked you, I will let him come out and play until we have finished our business. Do we have a deal?"

Nino frowned and he looked to Nicholas for an answer. Nicholas swallowed hard and nodded, still poised to attack, though neither of the intruders appeared that keen to begin a fight. Perhaps they were wiser than he had given them credit for. "Go ahead, Akhi," the boy said sternly. "We won't be long. I promise."

Nino gulped, his grip on Dozer's collar tightening as he slowly turned and shuffled back toward the stairs, leaving the three standing awkwardly in the living room, Nicholas illuminated by the Christmas decorations lining the walls behind him. He really hoped he wasn't going to have to redecorate the house when this was all over.

"Now," Fu went on, waving a hand toward the couch. "Perhaps we should sit down so we can properly explain our reason for intruding so soon after--"

"Your father was one of us," Kila interrupted before anyone could do anything. "He was sworn to protect the miraculous no matter what the cost. But he failed and abandoned his duties and in doing so, he fated you to carry his mistakes for him. That necklace you wear--no, don't bother protesting, I can sense its presence with you now--contains much more power than you could ever realize. And there are people out there who will stop at nothing to take this power from you. They will not think twice about hurting you if it means they get what they are after. Do you understand what we are trying to warn you of? Your miraculous is not safe out here in the open for the world to see. If we found you, then you can bet that there will be others out there who will do the same and they will not stop until they do."

"Not the most tactful way to approach the subject, never the less, not any less accurate. We're trying to keep you and your family safe," Fu added with a sigh. "We tried to find you right after your first public transformation. But not to harm you. To warn you of the dangers you carry with you."

"I...don't understand," Nicholas interrupted. "You said that you knew my father. But who are you? And why do you know so much about Lorr?"

"Because you are not the only one to have a Miraculous, Nicholas." Fu gave another smile and lifted his wrist to reveal the emerald which Nicholas decided looked vaguely like the shell of a...

...turtle.

No way.

"It's you!" he gasped, jumping back into the backboard of his couch and pointing an accusing finger at the man. "You're the one who was on the train that day and at the park! You're the one that gave Nino the free ride and told Milo where to find me! That's why Nino kept saying he saw turtles everywhere! You tricked me!"

Fu smiled more boldly now and stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "I would prefer to think of it as less of a deception and more of a...helpful nudge in the right direction."

"I don't under--why? Why would you--"

"Because we are the Guardians of the Miraculous," Kila interjected once more. "It is our sacred duty to protect and defend the jewels and the kwami that reside inside and to make sure they never fall into the hands of the wicked. We felt the moment you bonded with Lorr as I am sure those who seek his power did as well. That is why we are here. To take you somewhere safe. They may have gotten to your father by mistake, but we will be certain that you do not meet the same fate."

"Whoa, hold on a minute! Go back! Rewind! Guardians? Miraculous? As in, plural? As in, more than just Lorr and Trekk? How many miraculouses are there?"

"One hundred and sixteen," Fu answered automatically at the same time that Kila blurted, "The kwami of Vengeance is active?"

"One...one hundred and...sixteen..." Nicholas repeated, suddenly feeling faint. "I think...I should...sit down." He started to move but an impatient huff from Kila cut him off.

"There's no time for that now!" she exclaimed. "We've told you who you are and why we are here so now it is time to hand over the miraculous!" She took a lunged step toward him and Nicholas nearly bent over backward to avoid her grabbing his shirt collar. At the same moment, Lorr phased through to hover beside his head, squeaking angry and choice words at the woman who immediately retreated, staring at the hippogriff in bewilderment.

"What..." she began.

Get back from him! Lorr yelled, you inconsiderate, prying being! You may be a member of the Guild but Nicholas is my master and I will stay with him so don't even think about taking my miraculous away to lock in some dusty old castle in the middle of nowhere!

"Ah," Fu remarked as he gazed at the small bird. "I take it this is him then? He seems very attached to you."

"He's my best friend," Nicholas agreed as Lorr circled around to settle on top of his cap pointedly, digging in his claws challengingly to glare heatedly at the two Guardians. "One of my only friends, actually."

Kila, in turn, scoffed and rolled her eyes. Nicholas spun on her once more and Lorr squeaked irritably in agreement. "What's so funny?" Nicholas demanded.

"Kila," Fu warned again. "I understand," he went on kindly to Nicholas. "My kwami is one of my dearest friends also. In a way, he is part of me. I could never imagine myself without him."

"So then you understand why I can't give him up," Nicholas went on, feeling the tightening in his chest finally begin to loosen. "Not now and not ever and certainly not to anyone."

The man chuckled softly, leaning even further into his cane and giving his accomplice a thoughtful stare. "I do."

Kila whipped around to face him so quickly that she almost fell. "What?" she exclaimed again. "But you can't just--"

"The miraculous is his, Kila," Fu cut her off. "He has formed a connection with Lorr and it would be wrong of us to try and separate them now. Besides, I agree with him. If those who are after this power do stumble upon them, the miraculous would be better protected in the hands of someone young enough to defend himself."

"I recall you having a very different opinion on the matter upon our arrival to this overrun madhouse of a city," Kila snapped. "And you know what the High Guardian will say about this! Ali may have chosen this child, but he is not Guild material! Not at all!"

"Yes, that is indeed the case," Fu admitted with a subtle nod in her direction. "However, that was before I understood the complexity of the situation and, upon assessing every possible scenario, I believe it may be more to our interests to leave the miraculous in the hands of someone who knows it better than we. And as for the High Guardian, I do not see why this boy cannot be trained in the ways of the Guild. Assuming that he agrees in return for retaining his kwami."

With that, the focus of the conversation once more turned on Nicholas who stiffened uncomfortably. Lorr phased into his cap with a chirp, leaving him to face the brunt of the attention and fiddling with the brim of his hat anxiously.

"Lorr...told me about you, " he mumbled. "About a group of people whose job it was to decide the fate of the kwami. I just...never expected to actually be confronted with them. And...you said...that my father is...was...one of you, but I...never knew that. Did he..." He cautiously lifted his eyes to peer tentatively at the two, somewhat dreading the answer. "Did he know about me...about Lorr?"

"Yes," Fu said and that's when the tears came, hot and fast, leaking down his cheeks before he could find the strength to stop them. He sniffed, wiping them off with his sleeve, feeling his kwami patting him gently on the head and clicking reassuringly.

"And now look what you've done," Kila remarked, sighing loudly. "You've broken him."

"Nicholas," Fu continued, not giving Kila another thought as he reached forward to gently rest a hand on his shoulder, drawing the teen's gaze downward to him. "Do you understand what we are asking of you? To choose this path, to be a miraculous wielder, is not a decision to be made lightly. Holders often spend years being trained on how to use their miraculouses and the best methods for utilizing their kwami's abilities. You have had none of that so far and would need to be brought up to speed as soon as possible. Meaning it would not be safe for you to stay here in Paris. You would need to come to Tibet with us to be properly trained as a Guardian. But that is ultimately your choice."

So, my choices are to stay here and lose my only chance of ever being a superhero and my best friend or leave everything I have ever known behind to travel to some very distant country to be trained as some kind of Snake Eyes? Fantastic options right there. I don't have any idea why my father would have tried to keep this from me. None whatsoever.

"We could leave right now," Wang Fu went on, clearly noting his hesitation. "We would be in Tibet by morning and you could begin your training immediately. Of course, that would mean that you would have to be willing to give up your life here in Paris. Your family could never know where you have gone. It would be too risky for them to know and could put them in a great deal of danger. We could take care of that. And then there's the matter of the other holder, the one of Vengeance. He would have to be persuaded to come also. For it would not be wise to leave one miraculous with so much the opposite power active alone in the city. Perhaps we would do well to have two Guardians if the others were to agree."

Nicholas swallowed hard, weighing his options. He didn't want to leave his life with his family behind. Not now. Not after he had just gone through all of the effort to make friends and tried to fit in with the other kids.

But at the same time, his curiosity was peaked. If what they were saying was true, then his father had been living a double-life from right underneath their noses this entire time and no one had suspected a thing. It made him wonder just what else his father might have been keeping from him.

And there was only one way he was going to get the answers to those questions.

Master? Lorr chirped warily. I would air on the side of caution. The Guardians are honorable and trustworthy, but think of what you would be giving up if you agree to this deal.

I know, Lorr. I'm thinking about it. But I think I need to do this. My father was involved with these Guardians which means he probably was here for a reason. I want to know what that reason was.

"All right," he decided, the words only getting stuck in his throat for a split second. "I'll come with you. But only because I want to know more about my father and what he was working on. Do you promise that you will tell me that much?"

"We promise," Fu agreed. He flashed the woman a triumphant smile but she did not return it, her gaze fixed on the stairs leading to the second floor with enough intensity to melt steel. "We will tell you everything when the time is right."

Nicholas frowned but finally moved away from the back of the couch toward the stairs, arms folded.

"Collect your things, then," Kila spoke gruffly. "We must return to the temple before sunrise."

"Okay," Nicholas muttered, feeling his heart sink just a little as the realization of what he'd done washed over him. "I just..." He looked back upstairs where he could no longer hear the pitter-patter of anxious feet roaming the halls, "can I have a minute to...to say goodbye?"

Neither Guardian answered at first, but then Fu gave a slight nod and rubbed his bracelet pensively.

Nicholas turned and hurried up the stairs, barging into his room and immediately upending his backpack to stuff it full with as many items of clothing as he could fit as well as extra sets of earbuds and batteries for his phone. Nino, meanwhile, had apparently given up on him and had fallen asleep across the end of his bed, sprawled out at such an angle that he would most likely awaken with a kink in the neck.

But Nicholas wouldn't be there to see that.

Beside him, halfway buried in Nicholas's blankets, Dozer also snored contentedly, the louder breather of the two. Nicholas chuckled, zipping his bag shut and sneaking over to the mattress to scoop his brother into his arms and readjust him correctly onto the bed.

One last time.

Nino moaned and squirmed from his grasp. Nicholas pulled back as two sleepy pools of chocolate blinked up at him adoringly. "Nickie?" Nino breathed, reaching for another tight squeeze to which Nicholas complied.

"Hey, Akhi Alsaghir," the older brother said quietly, ruffling his little sibling's rat nest of dark hair. "I thought you were asleep."

"Hmmm...." Nino hummed as he closed his eyes once again, content to let Nicholas set him down on the mound of pillows beside his dog. "Not sleepy. Are...leaving again? When you coming back?"

Nicholas could physically feel his heart shattering in two as he gazed down at the innocent child, not knowing how to tell him the truth. "Soon, Nino. I promise. I'm just going out for a little while, all right? I'm going to find out what happened to Ab."

"Come with you?" Nino suggested, already sitting up in the haste to throw back the covers and run for his shoes.

"Not this time, buddy," Nicholas quickly derailed, moving to intercept and leading him back to bed. "This is something I have to do alone and it could be dangerous. Besides," he added, lifting Nino's chin and giving the child a fake attempt at a smile. "Mama needs you now. You have to watch out for her and...and Chris. All right? You're the man of the house now. You have to look after them until I get back. Can you do that for me?"

A blink. Possibly the realization that something was wrong.  He nodded quickly and swallowed."Y-yes! But I...I want...to...to come with you!"

"I'm sorry, Akhi, but I can't take you with me." Nicholas gave him a forced smile and began to straighten up. Nino whimpered lunged to cling to the rim of his brother's pants, the tears rolling down his cheeks uncontrollably. "Oh, Nino..." Without thinking, Nicholas reached up and swiped his cap from his hair. Lorr, for once, did not protest, and instead glided placidly down to hover beside him, but Nino's eyes were transfixed on the bright red cap and the gently way Nicholas passed it over to him and set it softly onto his head. Nino wrinkled his nose but did not immediately throw it off, which made Nicholas wonder just how much more of the situation he was comprehending than he was letting on.

"Take care of this for me, N," he went on, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Keep it safe for me. I'll come back for it as soon...as soon as I can. Can you do that? Nino, can you do that for me?" I do not know how long I will be gone or how long it will take me to find out what happened to my father and why. It may be years before I return but I want to make sure that you have something to remember me by and to tell Chris when the time is right. 

And to apologize to you both for what I am about to do.

The little boy nodded fervently, pulling up the brim to stare at his older brother in winder, missing the sparkle of tears in his sibling's eyes that Nicholas quickly tried to hide with a swipe of his sleeve. "Good boy." Nicholas smiled, hugging Nino tightly. "Now, come on," he went on, taking his quilt and throwing back over the child's head. "You've got school tomorrow. Don't want to be too tired for that, right?" He didn't have school tomorrow. Tomorrow was Sunday, but Nicholas didn't know how else to get him to bed without a fuss and a lot of questions.

"School!" Nino chirped, burrowing immediately into the blankets until only the very top of his head, plus the cap, was visible. "Painting! Numbers! Yay!"

Nicholas shook his head in disbelief, still unsure why the thought of school excited him so much. He glanced up at Lorr who shrugged his feathers, clearly not having any more idea than him, and Nicholas then smiled slightly at the soft snoring rising from the pillow beside him. 

"Goodnight, Akhi," he whispered, slowly untangling himself from the mattress and stepping away from the bed. "Sweet dreams, Nino. And goodbye."

It is time to go, Master, Lorr whispered, fluttering closer to blink sadly at the small boy one last time as Nicholas slowly turned away and trudged out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

I don't want to leave him here, Nicholas confessed.

I know, Master Nicholas. But you are right. It is for his own safety. A world with miraculouses is no place for a child. Perhaps when he is older, he may show enough potential that you could then select him as--

No, Nicholas decided right then and there as he descended the stairs one final time and spun on his heels to face the two Guardians determinedly. I may not know everything there is to know about miraculouses or magic or superheroes and jewelry, but I do know one thing and that is that I will never ever let Nino be forced into the role that I chose to play. I won't let him follow in my footsteps. I want him to have a normal life, away from all of this. Mark my words, if I become this...this High Guardian, I will make it very clear; Nino will never have to know what a miraculous is. I will protect him and shield him from this life, no matter what.

Fu and Kila both glanced up at the quiet squeak from the soles of his Converse and Fu carefully stood to meet him as he reentered the room, Lorr still at his side and miraculous in plain view now. There was pride on the elder's face as he looked up at the dark-skinned boy and Nicholas almost felt a bit like his father was looking back at him. 

If his father was a ninety-some man with a flamboyant Hawaiian t-shirt and a cane that was literally doing nothing to support him.

"All right," he said, inhaling deeply through his nose and using the determination welling from his kwami to find the courage to form the most world-ending words of his life. Standing before them now, he knew there was no going back. His life was about to change forever.

 "I'm ready."

Chapter Text

At first, it had seemed like a great idea. One of the few good ones he'd ever had, actually.

But now that he was here, sitting across from a very confused and more-than-slightly uncomfortable dragon miraculous holder, Nicholas was beginning to question the sheer brilliance of his plan after all.

Looking back on the moment now, Nicholas realized how easy it had been to track the second hero to the far part of the city. Perhaps, he pondered silently to himself, it had been a little too easy. Grimm hadn't put up much of a fight--any of a fight at all, really--when Nicholas had explained to him what had happened and he had seemed all in and willing to join him on whatever insane endeavor the teen had planned, which was an odd switch for someone who had claimed to want to start on his "world-altering plans" just hours before.

The chopper gave an uncomfortable rattle and both boys immediately reached for something to hold on to overhead. Nicholas gritted his teeth and clung tighter to his armrests. Grimm, however, gave no visible expression to the gusts, staring past them through the window blankly. On his left, Kila pushed her hair out of her eyes and frowned even more deeply at the two boys. To his right, Fu sat quietly with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Every so often Nicholas would see his eyes momentarily drift toward the two heroes before quickly averting them again with the smallest of smirks.

Nicholas had half a mind to ask what the man found so amusing, but he hardly had time to formulate the idea before the aircraft gave another shutter and he retreated to the fetal position, clinging to his armrests like there was no tomorrow, muttering words under his breath he was sure the other passengers would not be able to understand.

Grimm turned to look at him. "Not a fan of flying either then, I take it?"

"Not fond of anything that involves my feet being anywhere other than the floor on the solid ground," Nicholas answered without looking up. "And I suppose you don't have any problems with this altitude then?"

Grimm shrugged. "Dragon miraculous," he reminded them with a cocky grin. "Pretty sure the no-vertigo thing kicked in almost instantly upon bonding. Lucky for me and for this entire vessel, I guess. Not a pretty picture."

Nicholas wrinkled his nose disgustedly. "Haven't you ever heard of too much information?"

Grimm chuckled and leaned back with an easy sigh. "It's not like I've had a lot of experience with that sort of thing. People...don't usually hang around long enough to hear anything I have to say, so...I guess, to answer your question, no."

"Well, that is depressing," Nicholas retorted. "And honestly, that sounds a lot like something I would say."

"Yeah," Grimm admitted, "that's probably because you have said it. On more than one occasion, actually."

"What?"

But Grimm just shook his head with a smug smirk that sent Nicholas's skin crawling with uncertainty. "You still haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

Nicholas frowned. "No...figured what out? Am I supposed to know who you are or something?" Was he? Was this all some kind of test that he was already failing somehow? He shot the older passengers a suspicious glance but they seemed distracted--or at least disinterested--in the conversation between the two boys. He doubted they had anything to do with this. He also suspected they didn't know the identity of his partner either.

Well, that makes two of us.

Three, Lorr threw in his two cents. Three of us, Master.

You don't know who he is either. Right. I forgot about that. Nicholas shifted uncomfortably in his seat and stared intently at his hands as another gust of mountain air nearly took the craft down.

But he does seem to know a great deal about you, Lorr went on. Perhaps that is a sign that you may know him outside of the mask. Perhaps you were once acquaintances.

Nicholas snorted, drawing a confused blink from the other hero. I doubt it, man. I didn't really have any friends before you came along. Not even back in Morocco. I had a hard time fitting in there too. My family kind of kept to ourselves. I never understood why, but I get it now. He fingered mindlessly at his pendant. My father was a miraculous holder also, so perhaps there was a bigger reason that we came to Paris than what he told us. I mean, naturally, he couldn't say, "Hey, we're picking up our lives here and moving to an entirely different country because I have this super-powerful kwami that goes literally everywhere with me and I have to keep him safe, so I hope you like Paris" without raising some red flags. Saying it was for his job--which clearly, it wasn't--was probably much easier to explain.

Do you really believe your father would lie to you like that?

I don't know, dude. He was a holder and didn't tell anyone. Plus, he knew about you and never said anything. At this point, I don't know what to think.

Perhaps he was only trying to do what he thought was best, Lorr reasoned, to protect you. I am sure he must have had a good reason.

Yeah, well, I don't feel very protected right now, Nicholas huffed. I feel afraid and confused and hurt. I wish he were here right now to explain everything to me. I just wish everything made sense.

I sense that desire deep within you, Master. But life is often full of great mystery. You and I do not understand why destiny has chosen the path that it has, or why we were bonded together in a world of peace far from the grasp of evil and treachery. However, we must believe that something greater is going to come of this...of us, and of what has happened to your father.

I don't think destiny has anything to do with it, Lorr, but I appreciate you trying to cheer me up anyway.

Just wait, Master Nicholas. Soon, maybe, you will see just why you and I were brought together in the first place. I have faith. You should too. Everything will work itself out. Just believe that. And if you can't believe in that, believe in me. I know.

Nicholas exhaled and sat back further in his seat as the booming voice belonging to the pilot echoed through his headset, informing the passengers of their current location in airspace--somewhere over the northern portion of Tibet. According to something Fu had said earlier, they were about thirty minutes out from their destination. Nicholas shivered at a cold blast of mountain air as it whipped through the cargo hold and chilled the group to the bone. Another glance toward his fellow superhero told him that Grimm was nearly as miserable at this altitude as he was.

But yet, he had agreed to come, which, to Nicholas, meant he was willing to deal with whatever the Guild decided to throw at them, from insane introductions to ice-swept hills to wherever in the wide universe they were going now.

The desire-to-be-a-hero thing clearly went both ways.

"Yeah, okay, how much farther to this secret guardian temple whatsis anyway?" Grimm shouted over the element's howling rage, sharply drawing the attentions of the two guild members to him as he pulled his cape closer, using it as a blanket over his knees and shivering. "I can't feel my fingers anymore."

Kila only scoffed. "You're wearing a miraculous. There is no viable reason that you could be feeling--"

"No matter," Fu cut her off. "We are here."

"Wait...really?"

"Wow, that was fast."

"Why don't you both take a look?" Fu waved a hand toward the window and Nicholas and Grimm instantly moved to obey, shifting together to peer out through the swirling snow. Nicholas blinked, squinting up at the looming peaks. From there he could see dozens of mountains circling the helicopter on both sides. A valley covered to look like the north pole, dozens upon dozens of cliffs, and nearly as many circling vultures to match, but no matter which way he looked, he saw nothing that even remotely resembled a castle or a hidden temple.

"Uh...what precisely are we supposed to be seeing here?"

"Yeah, kind of my thoughts exactly."

Fu chuckled at their befuddled expressions and leaned back with a smile. "Do you not see it? Perhaps you are not simply looking hard enough. Why don't you look again?"

"Dude, what kind of answer is that?"

"Not a very good one, that's for sure," Nicholas commented with a groan as the blond shoved his shoulder out of the way to push into the window next to him. "There's no temple out there as far as I can tell. Just a lot of snow and ice and more snow and more ice."

"It's not very hospitable," Grimm added. "Not even a polar bear would want to live here."

"That is part of the point of being a secret headquarters hidden in the middle of nowhere,"  Kila grunted. "If it were in plain view where everyone could see it, then there wouldn't be much point of the guild being a secret, would there?"

"You keep reiterating the whole secret thing," Grimm groaned. "But yet, you're the ones who came to us. Doesn't seem so secret to me."

"You are still not looking at it from the right perspective," Fu said. "Sometimes, the things best hidden can be found in the most obvious of places."

"Well, you made that way more ominous than was necessary."

"I agree completely."

"Teenagers," Kila snorted. "It's like they all have a one-track mind. No imagination whatsoever."

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"Never mind Kila," Fu interrupted, stepping between them and smiling up at the boys cheerfully. "Focus on your inner thoughts. Do not simply look with your eyes. The two of you are miraculous holders. See as your kwami sees."

"What does that even mean?" Grimm complained, pushing back past Nicholas and slumping back into his seat with a scowl. "I'm not big on riddles, sir."

Fu chuckled. "But this is not a riddle, young man. For the entrance of the temple to be found by those who seek it, one must be willing to put aside what they think they know and embrace what they cannot."

"Great. More riddles. Did I mention how much I dislike them yet?"

"No, actually, I think I understand," Nicholas corrected, fingering his pendant as he turned back to meet the gaze of the flabbergasted boy.

"You do?"

"It's just simple logic," the Moroccan went on quickly. "Right now, we are unable to see the temple because we are looking for something that I assume is not supposed to be found. At least, not yet. We are looking with our eyes when maybe what we need to be doing is searching for something that cannot be seen."

"Uh, come again?"

"It's invisible," Nicholas emphasized. "Somehow, the Guild is shielding itself from view so as to keep itself safe from the prying eyes of the world who would probably not use the miraculous in a peaceful way." He turned toward Fuu and Kila. "Am I close?"

Kila nodded curtly. "Leave it to the holder of the Wisdom to figure it out first."

"You are correct, Nicholas," Fu translated. The helicopter shifted at this moment, angling just right that Nicholas had a perfect view of a snowcapped mountain in the distance. Something bright glistened from near the summit and, a moment later, the world was enveloped in green. 

Grimm cried out in alarm and Nicholas lurched back as the light washed over the craft and their eyes followed the trail as the copter kept going and everything once more faded to white. Fu's bracelet shimmered the same sickly green, Nicholas noticed, but before he could make a comment on what that could be attributed to, he was drawn once more to the window by a sharp inhale from his teammate.

"That's it!" Grimm exclaimed, nearly knocking Nicholas out of the way once again in his haste to press up against the glass. "We've made it! There's the temple down there! I can see it!"

Lorr? Nicholas questioned as he regained his footing once more and carefully peered over the eager blond's shoulder to the snow-covered mountains below. Above the billow of a low-bearing squall, a bright red rooftop could be seen, and a great wall surrounded the entire structure. Further on, an elongated body of water drew across the landscape as far as his eyes could see.

That is the Miraculous Temple, Lorr confirmed. Home of the Guild...and your father.

"Whoa..." Nicholas breathed aloud. "That is so cool."

"Wait until you see the inside," Kila informed him. "It's much bigger than it looks from out here."

"If everyone would please take their seats and refasten their seatbelts," spoke the pilot once more. "We will be making our decent here shortly."

All of the passengers moved to obey and Nicholas held his breath as the helicopter circled back around the mountain once before landing off to the side of the courtyard at a small landing strip. Kila opened the doors and the four of them piled out. Nicholas immediately grabbed for his hood to keep it from being blown back by the offshoots from the chopper's blades and Grimm shouted something above the roar of engines that no one heard.

"This way!" Fu called, once more reverting to using his cane as he started off behind the craft and Kila hastily went with him.

"Come on!" Grimm yelled again, taking Nicholas's arm and pulling him after the elders. "We need to keep up before they leave us behind!"

The holder of Trekk's miraculous is correct, Master, Lorr advised. Nicholas scowled at this but hastened to follow anyway, ducking under Grimm's billowing cloak as the wind off the mountains whipped at his face and hands. 

I know. I just hate running.

Particularly when you are unaware of where you are running to?

The whole reading-my-mind thing has long lost its charm, man. Do you realize how creepy that is?

Says the boy who prefers to wear all dark attire, Lorr shot back, like some kind of vampire from the sixteenth century. No wonder you are unfortunate in the realm of mating.

Okay, first off, that just sounds super weird even in my head, and two; I don't need anyone. I'm perfectly fine working on my own.

Somehow, he felt as though Lorr's eyes were moving away from him and onto the group rushing on ahead without him. Oh, yes, so I see. Perfectly fine on your own.

They don't count, Lorr.

"Griffon!" Grimm shouted in his ear, jerking him roughly from his internal war with his kwami. "Let's go! They're leaving us behind!" 

"I'm coming!" Nicholas yelled back, ducking even further as the copter's engines began to rev once more, signaling the pilot's intent to take off (and probably make it back to the city before any more surprise snow squalls could wander by).

And speaking of snow squalls...

"Everybody keep up!" Fu spoke, his tone quiet, yet monstrous on the face of the mountain. "There is a storm coming! It will be safer inside until it passes!" 

I hate snow, Nicholas grumbled as he glanced northward beyond the temple's walls to a massive shelf of angry black clouds looming in their direction.

You hate a lot of things, Lorr remarked. You are a very hateful person.

No, I'm not, Nicholas argued as he broke into a sprint, overtaking Grimm and hurrying to trek side-by-side with Kila who shot him a momentarily dark look before focusing her attention on Fu as the older man was nearly blown over by a particularly gusty blast of wind. I'm just emotionally reserved.

Hmmm, Lorr hummed, not sounding very convinced.

A rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance as the group finally trudged up to the gates and Fu lifted his staff to insert it into some kind of weird mechanical device that almost seemed to eat the stick whole.

Grimm slogged up to his side, huffing and puffing. He made a face at Fu and then over at Nicholas. "What is he doing now?"

"I think...I think his staff is a key. I think he is unlocking the doors for us." Nicholas guessed, watching as the elder twisted the end of his stick and it moved the entire latch. A moment later, there was a resounding cling and the gate popped from its hinges. 

"Quickly," Fu urged, shooing them past and through the archway. "Everyone into the courtyard. The storm is upon us."

Grimm and Nicholas wasted no time in obeying, practically shoving each other out of the way to get through. Grimm was ultimately the victor and he gasped as he took the first step inside. "I don't believe this!"

"What?" Nicholas inquired, rushing up beside him, fists clenched, ready to punch the first thing that moved. However, when he reached the teen's side, he found the clearing completely deserted. Heat whizzed over his body as he took a small step forward and his shoes were buried up to his ankles in warm sand.

Sand.

In the middle of an icy mountain range.

Now Nicholas understood what had shocked Grimm so much. This place...was like an entirely different ecosystem altogether.

He blinked, jaw dropping as he took in the sand-covered bleachers, basketball court, fencing field, along with about half-a-dozen small buildings surrounding the main temple which was located in the very heart of the clearing.

This...right here...what he was seeing...wasn't scientifically possible.

Ms. Mendeleiv would have a cow if she could see this.

"What?" he repeated, earning a grin from his companions.

Fu chuckled as he limped up behind and reached up to rest a hand on each of the boys' shoulders. "Welcome, my young friends, to the Temple of the Miraculous. Quite a sight, is it not?" Then, before they could answer, he released his hold and took a step away. "Come, let us get inside where it is warm. We will show you around and then Kila will show you to your rooms."

The look she gave them could have killed Godzilla instantly.

"All right," Nicholas said, still trying to process everything. "That sounds good. And then I can start searching for what happened to--" He started forward but Fu held out a hand to stop him.

"Before you enter the temple, there is one more thing you should know," the old man warned. "All those who step inside those walls are sworn members of the Guild. They have given their sacred honor and have vowed to defend the miraculous with their lives. To be permitted inside, you too must make such a promise. A promise to always defend and protect what is noble and true, to stand up for what is right, and to guard the miraculous and kwami who reside inside no matter what. Only then will you be permitted to enter. Do you solemnly swear to do this?"

"I do," Nicholas answered immediately.

"I do too," Grimm added a moment later.

"Very well," Fu went on, folding his arms neatly behind his back. "Then as a sign of your good faith and allegiance, we now ask you to drop your transformations."

"Say what?"

"Uh, no thanks."

Kila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Do not be afraid, young ones," Fu encouraged. "Everyone here is a friend. Most already know who you are. Unless...you are afraid of one another finding out?" He gave Grimm a significant look and a faint trace of embarrassment flashed across the boy's face.

Nicholas shrugged. "Well, I have no problem with it since it seems you all already know who I am anyway. Lorr, Talons Down." The uniform melted away, leaving the teen standing there in his tattered shoes and ripped jeans. Not exactly the most professional attire he could have selected, but the others did not appear to be troubled by this. 

"I'm...not really sure this is such a great idea," Grimm mumbled, taking a step away now and tugging anxiously at his miraculous. "I'm...I'm not so good with people really seeing me."

"You have nothing to fear from us," Fu promised. "Kila and I will not judge you for your other life or who you were before you found your miraculous. And I am sure Mr. Lahiffe here would agree."

Grimm bit his lower lip worriedly. "Okay. I guess you were going to find out who I was sooner or later. Maybe it would be better for you to know now before you agree to anything else." He took a long breath and closed his eyes. "Trekk, Ashes Fall."

The red lights encompassed him instantly and as his cloak and mask fell, Nicholascaught a glimpse of genuine fear in the boy's eyes. It was gone almost as quickly, however, as the white shirt and designer jeans and shoes took the place of thick armor and spiked Thanos gloves. The uncertain blue glisten emerged from the dark hazel and the mop of blond fell back in a more natural--more familiar--way and the teen was revealed for the first time.

"Hello, Nicholas," Milo spoke. "Long time no see. It's...uh...I'm Grimm and I really hope you're not too disappointed."

Disappointed? Disappointed. No, Nicholas was in far too much shock to be disappointed. Of course, now it all made sense. Why the teen had wanted to talk to him at school, how he always seemed to be around at just the right moment. It had felt a bit stalkerish before, but this made so much more sense.

"Milo...?" He was aware of how uncertain his pitch came out but he decided it would be better to overlook it for now.  "Wait a minute, you're Grimm? You're the one who gave me Lorr?"

"And then promptly showed up at your school the next morning pretending to be on a world tour just so I could see how you were settling in as a new miraculous holder? Yeah, that about sums it up." Milo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "So, yeah, hi officially."

"I...don't get it," Nicholas confessed. "Why would you--"

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside," Kila interjected, stepping between them abruptly and pushing them away from a growing number of curious eyes. "Where we cannot be bothered, yes?"

"Let us step into the temple where we can speak more privately," Fu suggested. "There will be much time for the others to meet you later. But for now, you both must have questions."

Grimm--Milo--nodded slowly, his gaze darting from Nicholas to the Guildmembers and back again and a nervous blush dusted his cheeks. He wasn't at all prepared for Nicholas's reaction and he squeaked loudly as the dark-skinned boy threw his arm around his shoulders and side hugged him reassuringly. 

"You're...you're not mad about this, are you?"

"Mad?" Nicholas echoed. "Man, what would I have to be mad about? You're a superhero! You trusted me enough outside of the costume to let me into your life, both as a civilian and not! No one has ever trusted me with anything that rad! Of course I'm not mad! I'm honored!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," Nicholas laughed, grinning as the shorter boy's shoulders loosened and the terror melted away from his expression. "I mean, it was a little overdramatic you swooping in to save me at the last possible moment, like, couldn't you have shown up five minutes sooner?"

"I tried," Milo laughed, "but I kept getting stopped by all of these kids wondering why I was dressed up like Daredevil in September. And...and I'm sorry that I couldn't do more...when I'd heard about...your dad...I'm...I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault," Nicholas told him, determined not to let Milo feel guilty for something he had had absolutely no control over. "You didn't kill him. It was an accident. Accidents happen."

But, then again, accidents don't typically happen just days after someone finds a miraculous and learns that someone else is after them to take that miraculous back.

Milo smiled weakly and together, the two boys trailed the two elders up to two wide oak doors surrounded by a number of armed guards who watched them suspiciously as they approached. Nicholas swallowed hard and fought the urge to hold his pendant tighter as they passed.

It only took him a moment to realize that the guards weren't paying any attention to him.

Their gazes were fixated firmly on Fu and there wasn't even the slightest trace of respect in them. However, Fu seemed less than bothered by this as he pushed past and handed Kila his cane as he heaved open the doors and disappeared inside.  

"What's up with them?" Milo whispered.

"No idea," Nicholas hissed back. "But I think Fu knows."

The inside of the temple was darker. Darker and colder. Nicholas shivered, pulling his coat further around his neck as he tiptoed across the uneven paved floor. Tiles lined the walls and ceilings and he had to crane his neck to see all of them up above his head. Pictures were depicted on each; some of beauty and grace displayed through nature, and some of wars and fighting and terror side by side with a ring of gems portrayed in every color of the rainbow. Above the murals, chiseled out of a solid arch of rock, a series of words aligned themselves before Nicholas's eyes.

Enter ye who wish to find, the secret of a power divine. Come with not toil nor with strife, but with hope and gift of life.

"What're those?" he inquired, pointing them out to his companions. "Is that...what language is that? It looks like...Chinese?"

"You mean the words on that arch?" Milo butted in. "I don't know where you're getting Chinese, dude. That's English."

"No, it's not!" Nicholas protested adamantly. He knew the English alphabet (at least part of it) and he was sure what he was looking at was not English. "That's an Asian language! I have the kwami that can understand every language. Trust me on this."

"Eh, it still looks like English to me," Milo shrugged.

"Well, in a way, you are both right," Fu commented, wandering back to see what had caught their attention. "These ruins are from ancient times, from a time long before miraculous were used alongside humans. Though their origins are not known, they have the distinct ability to translate into any language that they see fit. For you, Nicholas, they chose Chinese, perhaps to represent the wisdom flowing through you. And for you, Milo, you see your native language, just as you are supposed to."

"I think my brain hurts now," Milo complained.

"I still see Chinese," Nicholas insisted. 

Fu merely turned away from their bickering and sighed. Kila frowned at the two boys and the kwami hovering calmly at their sides. "Obnoxiously loud rude adolescents," the girl muttered, just loud enough for the teens to hear.

"Hey!" they both protested together, spinning on their heels to face the elders. 

"And yet, somehow, you find the audacity to bring them both here."

A booming voice rang out from somewhere above them, echoing off of the walls and causing Nicholas to flinch back, sending Lorr diving for cover inside his coat. Milo started, reaching for his gloves and already beginning to pull them further over his hands, when a blur of red rushed by them from behind and Fu and Kila spun to face their newest opponent. 

"Wang Fu," the man spoke, deep malice etched across his face. He stood a good head shorter than Nicholas, but still, the boy cringed at the anger in his tone and wished there was somewhere, anywhere, where he could hide from the untamed wrath. "You have a great deal of courage to come back here after all this time. After what you did."

"I did not come here to fight, Su-Han," Fu said firmly, stepping onto Nicholas's left and holding the man's glare evenly. "I only came back because these miraculouses needed protection."

Su-Han snorted. "And since when do you care about the miraculouses or anything besides yourself for that matter? Or did you come back to make excuses for yourself?"

"This isn't about me," Fu snapped, signaling for Kila to stand down as the girl made a move to speak on his behalf. "It's about them." He pointed back to the kids and Su-Han's eyes narrowed. "They found the miraculouses of Wisdom and Vengeance, a feat that has been impossible for nearly three hundred years. And now they are in danger and this is the safest place for them to be right now."

"You expect me to believe that children harnessed such destructive powers unsupervised?"

"No," Fu admitted. "Not at first. After all, you never did approve of me becoming a Guardian at such a young age. But I am here to tell you that these two have proven themselves worthy of the title on more than one occasion. And if my word still means nothing to you, Celestial Guardian, allow me to set your mind at ease. Ali chose them. He wanted them to carry on his legacy in the event that something were to happen to him one day. Well, that day has come and these boys are more than capable of accepting the training to take his place."

"Wait...what's this about training?" Milo demanded. "I don't have to lift weights, right?"

They ignored him. 

"They are only infants," Su-Han scoffed. "They cannot be trained to take on such an important role so soon. Give them twenty or thirty years, then maybe we will see if they have potential."

"Twenty or thirty years?" Nicholas erupted, pushing past Fu before the old man could say anything else. "I can't wait that long! My father was killed for these things and he wanted me to protect them! Whoever killed him was after this place and I need answers. You're supposed to have them so why won't you tell us?"

Su-Han arched an eyebrow. "Ali's son, I presume? I recognize that miraculous and I sense your father's boldness within you. He never knew when to quit either. It's probably that recklessness that you share that got him killed in the first place."

"Take that back!" 

The man smirked, folding his arms and lying his staff on the ground beside him. "And why should I? It's the truth. Ali was a wise Guardian and he was a noble warrior, but he never knew how to pick and choose his fights and I very much doubt you are any better than he was."

Anger seeped through his veins and Nicholas clenched his hands into fists, hearing but ignoring the chirps of concern from Lorr as he shouldered his way past Milo and Fu to stand face to face with the older man.

"You don't know anything about me or my father."

"On the contrary," Su-Han countered. "I know more about you than you think, Nicholas Lahiffe. This is why I know you are not ready to become a Guardian. You are too young, too undisciplined, and there is too much untapped rage inside of you. There is nothing I could teach you now. You are not ready. Not so long as you keep so much bottled up inside."

"I think you can," Nicholas argued. "I need to know about my father. I need to learn. I came all this way! You have to show me!"

"Do I?" 

"Nicholas," Milo hissed, pulling the boy back with a nervous glance at the Guardian. "What are you doing? We're not warriors. At least, I'm not. How do you plan on making him tell you anything?"

"The only way I know how," Nicholas replied, pulling away from the blond and glaring up at the red-garbed man who continued to stand there, looking...almost bored. "If he's not going to tell me what I need to know, I am going to make him."

"What?!"

"What?" Fu and Kila said together.

"You can't be serious," Su-Han sneered. "You, a simple child, wish to challenge me? The most powerful Guardian of the entire Guild? You must be nieve."

"If that is what it takes to prove that I can earn my place as my father's second," Nicholas replied, dropping back into a back stance and forcing the others to step out of his way as he opened the side of his coat to release his kwami and Su-Han collected his staff, twirling it tauntingly before him. "Then I will do whatever it takes. Even if it means defeating you."

Su-Han laughed. "You won't defeat me. No one ever has. But, if you prove yourself to be a worthy adversary and you show me that you deserve to wear that pendant, perhaps I will tell you what you want to know."

"I accept your challenge," Nicholas agreed. "Lorr, showtime! Wings Unfurl!"

The light blinded him for only a moment as the mask melted over his eyes, but that was all the time it took for Su-Han to make his move and ram his staff into the pit of his stomach and send him reeling back with a cough of surprise. He reacted immediately, lunging for the staff and twisting it sharply over his back, spinning to yank it away from Su-Han's grasp. He let go as well and the staff went skittering away across the floor.

Their eyes met.

"Clever boy," the Guardian growled. "But not even your miraculous can prove your worth to me. For that, you will need more than just a new outfit and fancy dance moves. If you really want to know what happened to your father, prove to me you deserve it."

Lorr squeaked out a cry of certainty that matched his holder's and Nicholas felt determination building upon that sensation, pulling up his hood to shield his eyes and watching as the last of the golden power swelled across his shoes and then vanished into his soles. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He needed the answers to his questions and this was the only way to get them. 

He was ready to do whatever it took.

It was almost a silent command, the way he felt the blade's hilt form in his hands like Lorr had sensed, even before he had spoken, what he'd had in mind. They were in sync and there was no way they were going to be defeated.

He spun the sword once just to get the feel for it, before fixing his focus on the man patiently waiting for him to make the first move. 

"Okay, Celestial Guardian Whatever-Your-Name-Is, let's go."

Chapter Text

5 years later...

The sword came slicing through the air, the silver blade blazing in the last fading light of day.

His eyes narrowed as he spotted the oncoming danger and his body moved instinctively to react, bringing one arm, firmly attached to a tailfeather dagger of his own, swinging backward to counter and narrowly sliding away from the blow. He hastily side-stepped to the left, twirling behind his attacker, weapon at the ready, Lorr's strong mentality commanding him through his movements. He responded easily to these orders, backing and jabbing, countering every swing brought on by this powerful frontal attack.

"Good," Su-Han granted, twirling his weapon before tossing it to his other hand and coming right back in for the attack, forcing Griffon closer to a high wall, "but you're going to have to be quicker than that!"

The younger holder felt the solid concrete collide with his back, but before he had time to register this change, he was forced to parry a blow aimed directly at his head. The Celestial Guardian grunted at the biting collision of metal, his scowl growing even more resolute. Nicholas tensed, knowing far too well what that look meant, and clung to his dagger more firmly.

The two rivals sized each other up for not the first time and, Nicholas suspected, not for the last.

Wait for it, Lorr whispered. Wisdom deals not the first blow out of hatred. Let him make his move and then proceed with your counterattack.

Easy for you to say, man. You're not the one out here putting his rear on the line. But he obeyed nevertheless, watching, waiting, for the elderly (but not any less spry, to his immense surprise) man to make his next move. And he didn't have to wait long either. Su-Han came at him again, lunging for his shoulders with the intent of forcibly tossing him away from the field into the curious and rapidly expanding crowd composed of hundreds of wary eyes.

Many had gathered to see this fight, a confrontation of two of the greatest warriors the Guild had ever produced. It was well-known knowledge that Su-Han rarely involved himself in the training of paladins, especially outsiders. He had made that palpably clear the first time they had clashed and Nicholas had ended up on his back with a sprained wrist and multiple bruised ribs for his efforts. He hadn't been able to impress the Guardian then and he had waited, trained, and prepared for the day when he would once again get his chance to meet the man in combat and prove himself once and for all.

The bets had been spreading throughout the temple for weeks. Nine to one Nicholas was expected to get creamed.

That was their mistake for Nicholas now knew why he had failed that day and so many times following. Brute force hadn't been the answer then, not when the man was ten times more skilled than him and had been in contact with every miraculous possible at one point or another (he was over a thousand years old after all) and it wouldn't be this time either.

This time, he was ready.

This fight had dragged on long enough already. 

One blow, that was all he needed. One connection and the challenge would be over for good.

"Now!" he bellowed, diving for the pavement, landing hard on his stomach and promptly bracing himself to avoid what was to follow, a well-thought-out plan days in the making, one last trick to prove he could be just as clever at the Celestial Guardian.

Su-Han spun to see what the exclamation had been warning. He froze as a blur of red and black vaulted from above them on the rooftops, fists already blazing in a discharge of orange and yellow, to land in an offensive stance, power building around his form. Shaggy blond locks nearly hid the haughty smirk of success and Nicholas could almost sense the force emitting from his partner.

Su-Han slid out a foot, bracing himself for the inevitable, and brought his hands out to parry, though what bare flesh was going to be able to do against a condensed five-hundred-degree ball of raging fire, no one quite knew.

"Overdrive!" Grimm screamed, pitching the attack with as much force as he could muster.

Nicholas took off for safety, pelting out from underneath the man's steely glare and twisting back to pluck three more blades from his tail plume, expertly tossing them to embed into the man's garments and sink into the wall behind, pinning Su-Han in perfect range of Milo's blast as the Overdrive expanded outwards, spiraling straight toward the Guardian who looked...oddly unconcerned.

What the diddly was this?

Oh kwami, Nicholas realized with a jolt of horror as he met Grimm's petrified gaze. He's been expecting this the whole time!

Abort! Abort! Lorr screeched as he too suddenly comprehended what was about to happen. It's a trap! Nicholas, get out of here!

"Milo!" Nicholas yelled, waving his arms wildly in the effort to get the young man's attention. "Wait for a—"

But it was too late. Far too late. Su-Han smirked as the fire raged down upon him. In two quick sweeps of his hands, the blast was immediately redirected, careening off to the side and speeding right toward Nicholas instead, their perfect plan of victory immediately turning to despair.

"Griffon!" Milo shrieked, already running for his teammate. "Look out!"

"Whoa!" Nicholas yelled, rapidly reaching for his final two blades and holding them up in front of his face fearfully. The orange of the flames crashed through his closed eyelids and he braced himself for impact and to feel his skin sizzle from his bones. "Lorr!"

The kwami chittered something but Nicholas couldn't understand the chirps and clicks, though he suspected it was some kind of kwami curse. He didn't have time to try and figure it out anyway, as the fire was upon him now. The heat rushed across his face and he swallowed back a petrifying scream as the force of the impact shook his core. His hands shook and his knees turned to rubber. There was an eruption of white...

...and then the fire was gone.

Silence befell the arena and ashes rained from the heavens, but no pain consumed his being. He was not on fire, shrieking as his skin melted from his skeleton. The smoke disapparated and the fireball had vanished.

Nicholas! Lorr squawked over the dragon hero's panicked shouts as Grimm continued to run across the arena at full speed, horror etched across his face as he waved his hands in a desperate attempt to quench the flames. Nicholas, look at your hands! Your daggers!

Dazed, and much too weary to try and argue, Nicholas did as he was told, slowly lowering his gaze to the two weapons clenched tightly in his fists. He felt the energy coursing through the handles even before he saw the ominous glow from within the tips. Something about them...was different. He'd had these powers for almost five years now. Had they always had this weird glow?

No, you feather-brain! Lorr cried in exasperation. Your power is the precise opposite of Trekk's! You fight with wisdom and honor over vengeance and blind trust, thus your weapons can absorb Milo's! 

Wait, seriously?

It's a tactile safety mechanism, the kwami went on hastily as Su-Han started toward them once again, not looking at all phased or apologetic for what had just transpired. In the event that something were to ever happen to one holder, the other would be able to adopt those given powers, even for a short while. Let me show you.

"That was a clever trick, Lahiffe," Su-Han called, his voice seeming to ring off of the mountainside as everyone watching fell deafly silent. He sheathed his blade and folded his arms to stare down at the two now grown men as Grimm finally reached his side and just barely managed to restrain himself from throwing his arms around Nicholas gratefully.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I am so, so sorry! I almost hurt you! It was reckless and stupid of me," the blond hissed, but Nicholas was not paying him any attention, his attention solely focused on the Celestial Guardian and the very disappointed look the two of them were receiving.

Nicholas felt his heart sink. He had failed again, hadn't he?

Again, came the little voice in the back of his mind. This was the fifth time. How many more would it take for him to figure out what it was the Celestial Guardian was looking for? Five more? Ten? The rest of his life? 

 "Clever," Su-Han went on without missing a beat or taking into consideration the fact that Milo had been speaking at all, "but foolish. While it is true that you decided to problem-solve this battle in a way I feel is especially unique to you," He eyed Milo distastefully, "you did not uphold the requirements of the battle; which was to find a way to defeat me alone. This challenge is over!" he announced, raising his voice so the watching crowd could hear. And then he lowered it once again so that only Nicholas could hear the hammering words to follow. "And you have lost once again."

Anger boiled through his heart and his hands tightened around his blades even as he felt Milo's comforting arm around him. He watched, speechless, as Su-Han turned and swept away to rejoin the numerous crowd, even as it began to dissolve, the thrill of competition and adrenaline fading away once more to the mundane. 

"You have not yet earned your place amongst our ranks," came the last resounding criticism over the sound of distant storms and the roaring of blood in his ears. "You may try again next year. Perhaps then you will be ready."

"Nicholas," Milo began softly, trying to distract the Moroccan from his devastation. "Maybe this isn't as bad as--"

"GAAAAH!" Nicholas roared, throwing his tail daggers to the earth as soon as the master was out of sight. Instantly, they released the contained power of the overdrive and exploded into small eruptions the size of a small C4 bomb. Neither boy flinched, however, their eyes firmly focused on the pavement before them and the crushing results of their defeat.

"I can't..." Nicholas went on, his voice trembling. Milo sighed and side-hugged him tighter, seeming hesitant and unsure how much affection to give the grieving man...or rather, how much would be accepted before he found himself on his back in the dirt. "I can't do this anymore!" he wept. "Five years! It's been five years, Grimm! What am I missing? What do I have to do to get him to pass me and tell me about my father? It's not like I am asking for the keys to the kingdom here or anything! I mean, I don't even really care if I become a Guardian! I just want to know what my father was doing here and what he saw in this place and right now, I don't see any appeal at all!" 

"Okay," Milo muttered, ducking his head as a number of curious eyes followed the holder's outburst. "Let's...let's just get out of here. We can talk later. Come on. Let's just go." 

Nicholas nodded silently, allowing himself to be dragged away from the clearing back toward the barracks. A dark-haired figure moved from the masses, hurrying over and shielding the two from the onlookers, his brown and black-striped kwami not far behind.

"Come with me," Rikard spoke quickly, leaning over Milo to gently take Nicholas's arm and tug both males away from the courtyard. "Over this way. Keep up. I think there's something the two of you need to see. Bandd," he added sharply, glancing over his shoulder at the raccoon. 

"Yes, Master?" 

Nicholas started at the gravelly voice coming from the little kwami and he shot Milo a shocked glance. "Did...did that kwami just...talk?"

"Uh...yes?" Rikard replied, blinking at him in confusion. "Kwami can talk. They understand every language in order to best match with their assigned holders. Bandd," he went on, directing his conversation back to the bright-eyed animal. "Why don't you see if you can distract the Celestial Guardian for a bit?"

"Of course, Master," Bannd agreed, bowing slightly. "But how do you suggest I prolong his attention without inducing his wrath?"

"Enlist Luupa to help you or something," the young man suggested, waving a dismissive hand. "Have him talk about one of his food frenzies. Su-Han will love that. It should keep him busy for a few hours." He smiled wickedly and both Nicholas and Milo snorted. 

Revenge could be so sweet sometimes.

"As for you two," Rikard went on. "I think I might know a way to help you get the answers you've been seeking. You've been here long enough. I think it's time you learn what it is we are really up against."

"Finally," Milo breathed, picking up his pace to chase after the teenager. 

"Kwami can talk?" Nicholas exclaimed again, still very confused. You can talk? he went on to Lorr.

Most of us can communicate in such a way, came the bird's uneasy answer. However, there are...those of us who...find this method of communication...difficult to master.

Are you saying you couldn't figure out how to speak? Nicholas inquired as he followed the other boys around the backside of the temple toward the western front. There wasn't much out there besides a few small settlements and the ocean so why Rikard would want to show them something out there was beyond his understanding.

That is one way of putting it, yes.

But you're the kwami of wisdom! I thought learning things was literally in your job description!

You're making this conversation a lot more uncomfortable than it needs to be, you know, Lorr muttered. So I can't speak. What about it? I find this method of communication just as effective as words.

Nothing, man. I just...I kind of always figured all kwami communicated this way. It's...just a little surprising, that's all. Nicholas tried to shrug it off even if Lorr wasn't going to be able to see. I don't think anything of it. It's cool, I swear.

Hmmph. You are aware I can read your mind, correct? 

Yes, and that's another thing for which we are long in need of discussion. But later. Right now, I want to know what has Rikard all riled up. 

Suit yourself, Master. Rest assured, I shall be present if you should require my assistance. 

"Duly noted," Nicholas said aloud, causing Milo to jump a little. "Talons Down." 

"Dude," Milo complained as he too dropped his costume and Trekk emerged from his camera bag, blinking eerie obsidian eyes toward the three males. "You have got to start warning me before you do that! I feel like I am going to be electrocuted whenever I'm around you!"

"Huh. I didn't realize I made such an impression on you."

"You wish!" Grimm laughed, knocking him playfully in the shoulder. "You may be Mr. Holder Whatsis of Wisdom and Soon-to-be Ruler of Your Father's Legacy Blah Blah, but I still remember that scrawny kid from the seventh arrondissement who could barely figure out which end of a sword was up without stabbing himself with it. And don't forget who gave you that miraculous in the first place. You're welcome." He turned to walk backward and bow dramatically.

"You're just jealous because I'm better at using my powers than you," Nicholas snarked right back, drawing a sharp breath and forcing on a smile to push back the gnawing gut feeling of failure. 

"Ha!" Grimm laughed. "In your dreams, Robin."

"Hawkeye."

"Eh, bird, bird, same difference, really."

"You are a sad, sad human being."

"What, just because I don't know superheroes? Might I remind you that we are superheroes? Those guys aren't real."

Nicholas gasped, pretending to be wounded. "You mean all those nights staying up until three in the morning memorizing every movie and every hero's name meant nothing to you? I thought we bonded."

"We watched movies with basically the same plot over a cheesy pizza we stole ingredients to make from the nighttime kitchen staff," Milo pointed out. "There were so many other things we could have done. Like slept. Sleep. Sleep is good."

"Sleep is boring."

Rikard gave them the weirdest look. "This is the oddest conversation I think I have ever heard."

"Oh, just wait," Milo joked. "With Nicholas, it tends to get better."

"Kalimati, man, it was one time! I was drunk!"

"On what? High-C? Did someone spike your raspberry lemonade?" Milo teased. "Oh, oh! I got it! Your chocolate milk! That's how they did it, isn't it? They poured something into your chocolate milk. Well, gig's up now, I know how you did it, might as well come clean while you still can."

"Okay, first off, I am twenty-one, you know. I think that makes me of age in your country. And second; I still hate you because I prefer my High-C and you do not get to knock my lemonade in any shape, form, or manner."

"Yeah, I know," Milo went on shamelessly. "That's why you keep me around, isn't it?"

"I mean, how else am I going to burn the pants off Su-Han one of these days when I finally beat him?"

The blond exploded into laughter while Rikard looked unsure whether to laugh along with him or be absolutely appalled by this sense of humor.

"It would beak a very tough situation," Milo laughed. "You would have to have a lot of talon to pull it off."

"Shut up," Nicholas groaned. "No puns. Please. You know I hate them."

"Don't lay an egg, man, I just chiding you," Milo teased. "Wouldn't want you to fly off the hinges on me."

Nicholas's right eye twitched. 

"One day, I'm going to kill you for these past few years of nothing but this type of torture."

"No, you won't. You love it. Admit it."

"I most certainly will not do anything of the sort."

 Rikard groaned and rolled his eyes as the group started down a winding path that led away from the main courtyard to a smaller collection of settlements at the mouth of the lagoon. The air went from hot and stuffy to just-as-hot-and-stuffy-just-with-a-twinge-of-salt-in-the-breeze. Nicholas liked it here. Oftentimes, when he'd had time to himself to go exploring, he'd find himself walking along the shore. It reminded him a bit of the Seine and of home. He'd spent hours sitting on the docks, wondering what Nino and his mother would be during this time of the year and how they were holding up without him. Had Layla gone out and gotten a new job? She'd always talked about being a nurse or a veterinarian. What was Nino doing now? He would have been about eleven by this time. Was he in middle school? Had he managed to make any friends? Was he still friends with that Marinette girl? She'd been cute and they'd seemed to get along well. And what about the baby? How was Chris? Nearly five, he suspected. As ornery as he had been as a child or better behaved like Nino? Nicholas suspected the first. Nino had been a little too easy as a baby, there was no way they would get that lucky twice.

I miss them, he'd confessed once as he sat on the hill, overlooking the vast body of water. Below him, he had just been able to make out the village children running and playing in the meadow, kites flying high and buckets of water at the ready to pounce unsuspecting allies. I wish I could go back. Just once. Just so that way, they could know I am all right and that I didn't abandon them. I hope they don't think that's what I did.

They are intelligent beings, Master, Lorr had assured him then. They would not believe something so terrible of you. You informed your kin of your intentions to discover the root of your father's disappearance, did you not? I am sure they can rest easy knowing that you are continuing on your mission.

He was six, Lorr, Nicholas argued. I hardly think he's going to remember any of that now. He probably thinks I left him because I didn't care. He pulled his knees into his chest and sighed heavily. I don't know, man, I just really miss them.

Understandable. Loneliness is a common human emotion. Just do not allow it to block out all that you have learned that is good.

I won't, Nicholas promised. I need this. This is the best way to get answers and one way or another, I'm going to get them.

"Hey, dude, you with me? You're...doing that phasing thing again. You know, the one where you are blatantly not paying attention to anything anyone is saying to you? Yeah, that one. You zoned, bro."

Nicholas blinked, honing back to the present in time to catch Milo's concerned glance. When he was offered no explanation for the apparent confusion, he inhaled as calmly as he could muster and instead tuned in to his surroundings. They had long left the walls of the temple, electing to travel down a winding gravel path to a series of small huts near the water's edge, simple fishing homes to the outsider's eye, even though they were, in fact, much more on the inside. An entire department of the most recent and newest technology known to mankind to be exact.

They were the real-life examples of the metaphor; don't judge a book by its cover. Insane, but yet, just as effective. No one would suspect such an innocent-looking place to house some of the most powerful beings in the universe and that was just how they liked it.

"Nicholas?" Grimm repeated.

"What?" Nicholas responded, breaking out of his trance again in time to grab the door of the nearest hut and slip through, the others right behind him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he abruptly turned away from the room displayed with dozens of lights and monitors to gaze evenly down at the blond who, though he stood at six-foot and was a good four inches shorter than his counterpart, continued to stare at him in concern.

Nicholas found that very unsettling. "I'm fine," he insisted before the blond could begin to explain what was troubling him. "I just don't like to lose, that's all." He rubbed his arm shamefully and averted his attention to Rikard as the younger man pushed past them and made himself busy at one of the monitors.

"I get it," Milo told him. "It's unfair how Su-Han treats you. Maybe it's to push you to be better, maybe it's just out of spite, but you can't let him stop you from fulfilling your purpose. You came here to learn about your old man. Don't let him get in your way, not after you've put all this work in to find out the truth."

"I don't plan on it," Nicholas assured. "I know I should be patient, but I'm just sick of waiting. I mean, would it kill him to crack a smile once in a while? You know, just something to show me that he doesn't hate my very guts? Nothing spectacular. I'm not asking for his job or anything. Just a sign of appreciation here and there would be nice."

"Well, I might not be able to help much on changing the Celestial Guardian's feelings toward you" Rikard cut in, leaning back in his swivel chair and folding his arms behind his head smugly. "But I think I might have an idea on how to get in his good graces."

"How?" both Milo and Nicholas said at once.

"Observe," Rikard went on, beckoning them over to the computers. Both kwami peeked out of their holder's clothing as the males obeyed, each taking up a side surrounding the teen to peer at a darkened screen; a cut-freeze frame of a dark silhouette of a cloaked figure trudging down a dark alleyway. A thick hood and dark clothing as well as a thick backpack could not hide certain distinguishing features, such as short, layered hair blowing in the breeze and the sharp glint of moonlight off what Nicholas could only suspect were glasses.

"Who is this?" he inquired, leaning up and squinting to get a better view.

"Do you remember all of those small raids that took place on the southern fronts a couple years back?" Rikard asked. "The ones everyone suspects were by a group of miraculous thieves intent on finding their way into the temple?"

"Of course," the man answered with a frown. "The entire place was on lockdown for a week."

"Yes, well, the entire organization has been oddly quiet for some time now. Su-Han suspects they may be trying to gather reinforcements to begin a second frontal attack on some of our distant outposts."

"And this person is a possible asset in this plot?" Milo gathered.

"Precisely."

"So, what do you want us to do with them?" Nicholas asked. "It's not like we can exactly prove their involvement."

"Well, not yet," Rikard admitted, "but if you went and, you know, somehow convinced her to trust you, I'd be willing to bet you could find out a lot about her and then you could tell us whether or not she is a threat."

Nicholas blinked. "I'm sorry, what? Her? Did you just say--"

"So our target is a girl!" Milo laughed gleefully. "Oh, this'll be exciting! Nick is just amazing with girls!"

"I'm really not," Nicholas muttered under his breath, "and please don't call me that again."

"And Su-Han has given us permission to go?" Milo went on, totally ignoring the holder.

"Well, he gave us permission to send whoever we thought would be best for the mission," Rikard chuckled. "And I just so happen to think that the two of you would be perfect. Plus, Nick here is always complaining about not finishing his education. This would be the perfect opportunity to make up some of that stuff."

"Don't call me Nick."

"When do we leave?" Milo asked excitedly.

"First thing in the morning would be preferable," Rikard answered as he swung around to face them once more, a goofy grin spread all the way across his face. "Gentlemen," he cackled. "Go pack your things and prepare for departure. The two of you are going to college."

Chapter Text

"Try to look natural, man. You're stiffer than a scarecrow on a garden stake," Milo hissed out of the corner of his mouth as yet another group of female upperclassmen passed them with increased looks of interest.

"I can't help it!" Nicholas complained, turning over his schedule and his map of the campus for the fifth time. "Milo, have you seen our classes? Now, why does a major in art need biology as a prerequisite? There's no science in art! None whatsoever!"

"Well, what are you asking me for? I'm here for a degree in engineering. I don't know the first thing about art," Milo fired back, groaning and fixing his sunglasses as the high-pitched sound of laughter came from the nosey batch of teenage girls directly behind them. "And why are the girls here so creepy?" he added as an afterthought, making sure to lower his voice to the point where only Nicholas could hear him. Just.

There had been no photography class offered as a major. He was still rather bitter about that. 

Nicholas shrugged, disinterested and overly perplexed. "They probably sense the model in you," he replied, skimming through the brochure they'd received upon entry to the grounds again. "Even with our fake new identities, you still give off that vibe, you know?"

Milo wrinkled his nose. "I have a vibe?"

"Yeah, dude. Trust me. It's kind of hard to miss." He was actually surprised no one had recognized the teen wonder as of yet. Perhaps, he pondered, Milo had been away from the spotlight just long enough that no one would be the wiser to put two and two together. Plus, he looked a whole lot different now; longer hair tied up messily in a half-convincing bun, a more distinguished jaw-line, he was hardly the gangly teenager Nicholas remembered him as.

And, he supposed, he was sure he didn't look anything like he had before either.

"How much further is it to the admissions office?" Milo inquired, leaning over his friend's shoulder to try and read the miniature map as they passed under a series of oak trees where a number of sophomores and seniors had gathered around a series of booths and stands in the attempt to draw interest to their various clubs. "This whole place is making me a little uncomfortable."

"Which part?" Nicholas asked, feeling much the same. "All of the people or the fact that we are here to actually learn something?"

"Both," Milo said darkly and they both laughed, some of the stress relieved from their forms. 

They passed several of the pre-set tables and shyly ducked away from the massive crowds of students enjoying the sunny plaza and warm summer afternoon. The temperature was a lofty sixty-seven degrees (which, for a college nestled near one of New York's largest bays, that was exceptionally warm) and the day had turned out to be more pleasant than either of them had thought. From their position in the plaza, they could see the outline of the looming infrastructure that was to be the main base of their studies. By the ominous way the sun's shadow was cast, plus the large prismed clock face embedded into one of the towers, it was easy enough to assume the festivities would be lingering for at least another hour, and the two boys still needed to check in and find their dorms. Rikard could be calling them later that evening to make sure everything had run as smoothly as planned and to verify that their false names and diplomas had withstood the strict legal systems.

"It's just over there," Nicholas went on to answer the blond's initial question, pointing to a smaller building residing behind the main "hall". "Though I think getting there is going to prove a tad bit more difficult than I'd thought."

Milo scowled. "Define 'a tad'."

Nicholas gestured with a hand to the bustling main drag of vendors, excited students, and equally excited professors all out and about and mingling in the main path, making it virtually impossible to continue down the graveled walkway without having to pass through the middle of the festivities.

"No big deal," Milo scoffed, brushing off Nicholas's sour mood, taking his arm and gently tugging him off to the side through an open patch of grass and field. "We can take a shortcut this way. No one will mind. Trust me. I've been to enough colleges."

"Not this one, I hope," Nicholas fretted.

"No, thankfully, not this one."

"Good, because that might have presented us with a problem."

"Nah. Besides, I'm not Milo Astor III here. I'm Alex Harper, engineer and tech extraordinaire. At your service, my liege." He mock-bowed and Nicholas roughly shoved him to the side to continue marching through the high grass, nearly knocking the man off his feet.

"You're a dork."

"Well, so are you. Read that fancy piece of paper again. Make sure we're going to the right place."

"We're going the right way, man," Nicholas huffed, even as he moved to obey. "The campus isn't that big. Sooner or later, we have to wander upon the right building, right?"

"Yeah, but let's not forget, Rikard wants a progress update soon, so it would probably be better if we spent the majority of our energy trying to track down this possible agent, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, you're probably right," Nicholas sighed, taking out his phone and bleakly beginning to skim through the slightly cracked screen, "but how are we supposed to find this girl anyway? There have to be a thousand girls on this campus alone, not even counting the professors. All we have to go on is a dark, foggy picture of someone who may or may not wear glasses. That doesn't really narrow it down too much."

"Well, we know it has to be someone on this campus," Milo reasoned, "as a number of encrypted emails to a known criminal website have come from a computer in this school. And the lab with the laptop with the given IP address is in the medical wing, which leads Rikard to believe whoever is behind these messages is in one of the health-science courses."

"Which is why I'm being forced to take anatomy," Nicholas sighed, finally fitting two and two together. "Because you're hoping I'll get lucky and have a confrontation with our spy."

"I'd say that's a pretty good wager."

"Yeah, that sounds like Rikard," Nicholas grunted, perhaps not as surprised by this turn of events as he maybe should have been. Rikard was a crafty kid and, honestly, it didn't stretch his imagination to suppose the boy had set him up intentionally. "Let's just hope we get lucky."

"Well, we're not getting anywhere standing out here being roasted alive," Milo pointed out, eyeing the cloudless sky. The lump under his shirt wriggled as Trekk gave his unspoken consent. "How much further do we have to walk? I wore the wrong shoes for this today."

Nicholas rolled his eyes and pointed to the upper corner of the map. "It's just a little further. Behind there, I think. Admissions hall. Yes, I translated that right. It's right there." He gestured to the small structure where a number of civilians were crowded into an extended line. The queue expanded halfway across the campus and showed no signs of letting up soon as even more students moved to register.

"Oh, well, that's lovely."

Nicholas groaned in agreement, wiping his hair out of his eyes and hitching his backpack further up onto his shoulders, feeling Lorr squirm uncomfortably inside. "Well, do you have any better ideas?" He glanced around at the field, his attention grabbed by several groups of students all gathered around a small pit, engaged in some kind of game with a ball and a wooden hexagon.

"No...what are they doing?" Milo inquired as a number of them burst out laughing and hauled themselves out of the pit.

Nicholas shrugged, having never seen anything like it. Even if he had, it wasn't like he'd had any friends who would have attempted it with him. But...it did look like fun. 

"You mean those guys over there?"

Both boys started at a soft voice coming from directly behind him and they spun to find the owner sitting against the roots of a large maple tree. Two pools of aquamarine blinked behind thick anime-like lenses and a nervous smile spread across the teen's face as she raised her eyes from a thick notebook, pencil hovering over the paper midthought. 

"Oh, hello," Milo coughed, attempting to straighten his wrinkled appearance while Nicholas groaned again and rolled his eyes at his best friend's antics. 

"Hi," the girl responded quietly. "Gaga ball."

"I'm sorry, what now?" Nicholas asked as Milo deflated, fearing he'd just been insulted by the first female they'd managed to have an actual conversation with.

"The game." She pointed with her eraser. "I accent your li--I like your accent, sorry." She flushed slightly, retreating further into the social anxiety Nicholas could literally feel radiating around her. "And I...I know that...that to you, I'm the one with the accent, but...I just wanted to...to...yeah, o-okay, I'm...going to shut up n-now. I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Uh, thanks?" Nicholas chuckled, recognizing the same self-conscious uncertainty he'd had as a teenager (and, quite frankly, had never really grown out of). "I...like yours too? Is that the proper way to respond to that? Sorry, posh manners aren't really my forte."

"Oh my word," Grimm moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And here we go. Awkward Encounters with Human Beings Take Two."

They both ignored him. 

Cautiously, the girl let her gaze drift from Nicholas to Grimm and back to the Moroccan once again. "Okay it's--it's okay," she corrected, momentarily squeezing her eyes shut in an unconscious form of self-berating. "Freshmen?" she went on once she had regained her composure. 

Nicholas paused, confused by the sudden change in attitude, and looked to Milo for an explanation.

"Yeah, we're freshmen," the blond confirmed. "How'd you know?"

The girl laughed, her embarrassment fading to amusement. "Well, for starters, you are both walking around looking completely clueless. Believe me, I know what that looks like. I expect you're searching for the admissions office. Everyone is these days. Secondly," And she grinned even bolder as she pointed to the map Nicholas was holding, "you're reading that upside down."

Nicholas frowned and flipped the pamphlet over as Lorr chittered mockingly. "Oh..."

She giggled, jerking a thumb over her shoulder as she returned to staring at her notebook. "Admissions is over that way," she mumbled, bashful once more. "Last building on the right, second end from the door--second door from the end. If you hurry, you can probably make it before the line gets super long again."

You should really go then, Nicholas, Lorr encouraged as Milo nodded his consent and began walking in the direction the girl had gestured. You do not want to be late for the Guardian's summons.

Right, thanks, Lorr. "Er..." he began and the girl's warm gaze flicked back to meet his. His breath hitched and the words he fully had prepared to beat a hasty retreat vanished, leaving him stumbling and scrambling for coherent sounds. "Well, um, shukran and...ah...maybe I'll...we'll...see you around then?"

"Yeah," she smiled anxiously. "Maybe so. Good luck."

"Uh...good luck...?"

The girl raised an eyebrow. "With getting through admissions?" 

Nicholas could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "Oh, r-right. Thanks. Good l-luck with your...ah...essay?"

She beamed easily. "Thank you. You'd better go after your friend now." She nodded toward Milo who was already a good distance ahead, ducking under a stray soccer ball and tossing it back to the participants with a fancy, showboating swing. "He's clearly having way too much fun."

Nicholas snorted, allowing himself a brief smile before taking her advice and hurrying after the blond just as a second ball came soaring for his face. 

"Enjoying yourself?" he teased as Milo effortlessly caught the projectile and hurled it back across the park possibly a little harder than was necessary. "Maybe once we catch this spy, you should join the football team."

"Are we talking your football or mine?" Milo chuckled. 

"With Trekk's superstrength-enhancing abilities, does it make a difference?"

The man smiled. "No, not really. Perhaps I should. Maybe someone there will actually know how to read a map." He shoved Nicholas playfully to the side, learning a wounded pout from the holder as he picked up his pace, nearing the end of the field. They were approaching the final building now, the bold-faced sign confirming their destination.

"Harsh. That's really harsh, man. Be honest, you need me. I'm the one who figured out the whole science-health thing and the best way to track our thief."

Milo scoffed. "You're not the only super-spy here, James Bond. I would have figured it out too, you know."

"Oh, yeah," Nicholas agreed insincerely. "Eventually. After about a hundred years, maybe."

"Oh, you are the worst. The absolute worst. Just get inside and sign us in before I have to take you out myself." Milo heaved open the door and shoved Nicholas ahead of him, ignoring the man's continued laughter. 

Neither of them noticed the curious eyes that followed their steps until they were long out of sight and the door was closed firmly behind them.

"Lorr, Trekk, come on and check this place out!" Milo exclaimed with a belt of excitement, spinning throughout the narrow room and coming to lean against the lower of the two bunks while Nicholas slipped into their assigned dorm much more cautiously, quietly latching the thin frame before stuffing his hands into his pockets and calmly gazing around at the small (but roomy) residence the college had provided them. 

One on side, a set of bunks lined the wall adjacent to the window, and across the way, two thick oak desks and dressers were already prearranged for them (though he had a feeling Milo would want to do some redecorating before too long). He sighed, grateful that the two of them had ended up as roommates. It would have been extremely difficult to explain a magical flying pigeon-hippogriff to anyone else, not to mention extremely risky for both his safety and Milo's.

"Nick, look at this place!" Milo went on, swooping back over to toss an arm over the man's shoulders and drag him more firmly into the room. "I'll bet we got the nicest gigs on campus! Everyone is going to be so jealous!" 

He was acting so much like a kid in a candy shop that Nicholas could only grin along with him as he moved to set his backpack down on the desk and unlatched the zipper. Lorr waited patiently to make sure the coast was clear before letting himself out, floating into the air and spiraling around Nicholas's head, sending a shower of feathers raining down on the boy's head.

Nicholas brushed them out of his hair, already working to unpack his things, and set a framed photo of his family on the desk closest to the door. He paused upon seeing the image of himself, several years younger, his mom and dad on either side of him and Nino hunched squarely on his shoulders, trying his very best not to topple off. Layla looked ready to lunge if that event were to ever happen while Ali just looked on and laughed, clearly less concerned about the dangerous consequences than his wife. 

Nicholas smiled, recalling that day. It had been right after Nino's third birthday party when they had first discovered that both boys would require some means of corrective lenses. His parents decided to give Nino a few years to see if he would "grow out of it" and had made the decision to go ahead and let Nicholas have contacts. Less costly and less likely to need replacing every two weeks after taking another bashing to the face was the excuse they had given then. It still held true to that day, though Nicholas did notice that his vision tended to be less blurred whenever he transformed. He chalked that up to another of Lorr's many hidden talents. 

"Yeah," he agreed, wrenching his gaze from the picture in time to see Milo chuck his bag onto the floor carelessly. "It is pretty nice. A bit on the plain side, but I think we can work on that. We want to make it look like we are actually planning on spending time here."

"Exactly," Milo affirmed, flopping down onto a beanbag chair and shoving his earbuds in. "And who knows, maybe this agent will be harder to find than anyone thinks and we'll leave here with full degrees."

Or get caught falsifying our identities, recognized, and then thrown in prison for the next half-century while our miraculouses get confiscated and then stolen by the thieves so that way Su-Han will never trust me enough to tell what my father was neck-deep in, Nicholas added bleakly. "That's assuming we are going to be stuck here for a really long time. And I for one do not plan to make this an extended stay."

Milo opened one eye tiredly. "I thought you were the one who wanted to finish high school," he reasoned. "Whatever happened to that plan?"

"Yeah, well, that plan didn't really involve being surrounded by kids who only want to party and play football. Your football, not mine."

"Not to mention all of the pretty girls who absolutely would fall madly in love with you," Milo teased. "Such as; hint hint, certain brunettes sitting under certain trees in certain fields."

Nicholas felt the scarlet creep up his neck, his mouth already open to form the protest. "No! That's not...she's like...ten years younger than me! I mean, yeah, she's cute but no!"

The smallest of smirks spread across the man's lips as he leaned back into his chair and rested his arms behind his head. "Whatever you say, dude. If you don't go for it, I might."

Nicholas threw up his hands. "I can't believe we are actually discussing girls right now! We're on a mission, Milo! This woman is just a distraction!"

"A pretty distraction."

"Milo, no."

"Fine," the blond caved, crossing his arms and winking at Trekk who merely stared. "Party pooper."

"We should be getting ready for Rikard," Nicholas went on, spinning around and yanking out his laptop, grateful to have something to change the topic. "He should be calling soon, and," He shot his watch a look, "I have my first class in an hour."

"You know you're just trying to dodge my point because I'm right. She's a suspect too, just so you don't get too attached."

"I literally spoke to her for a minute in a half, I'm not attached." Nicholas finished connecting to the free wifi before spinning to face his partner before he finally connected what the man had said. "What?"

"You didn't see her notebook? There was an abbreviated sticker on the front upper corner. I recognized it from one of the banners on the way in. She's in one of the health courses, dude. She could just as easily be our spy."

Nicholas groaned and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Great." 

How'd I miss that? he wondered to himself, waiting for the inevitable response from the creature currently masquerading as his conscious. 

Do you wish for the obvious answer or a well-fabricated deception? Lorr offered. I believe you may have fallen victim to her natural charisma. She was, from my understanding, a very unique young human.

Really, really not helping me here, Lorr. 

There was a resounding beep from the computer and both boys hastily scrambled to hit the video feed. Nicholas reached it first and Milo sat down on the edge of the bed next to him as the internet buffered.

"Well, look at it this way, unless she is the sleeper agent, you may get lucky. Maybe you won't ever have to see her again. That will solve all of our problems, especially if you didn't find her attractive, right? Nothing to worry about."

"Right," Nicholas plastered on a forced smile as the screen flickered to life and the familiar devious brunette's face appeared onscreen. "Nothing to worry about at all."

"Hey, guys!" Rikard called, waving cheerfully. "So, how goes the first day?"

Both males collectively groaned.

Chapter Text

Distant thunder announced its presence as he scaled the last few rungs and heaved himself over the ledge and onto the rooftops of the dorms. The forewarning mist pattered against his hood and gloves but he paid it no mind as he gazed out past the haze toward the dimly lit field, now deserted of all life in the forgotten hour. The time was late, well past curfew, which meant it was the perfect opportunity for him to slip away and begin the hasty ritual of sorting through his jumbled and often very disoriented thoughts.

It was times like these he looked for quiet places to be alone...well, as alone as someone with a miraculous and a constant animal companion could ever be. This was no oceanside rock carved just perfectly for resting but, for now, it would have to do. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to take the silence and the easy lapping waves for granted until now when all he could hear were the noisy streets and blinding city lights.

Are you sure we should be up here? came the whispery nervousness he had long anticipated from deep within him, so closely ingrown within that he had difficulty differentiating which were Lorr's concerns and which were his own. It is late and you have already had a very long day.

Nicholas tried not to wince as he recalled how their conference with Rikard had run long and he'd been forced to sprint nearly halfway across the campus, managed to get his directions mixed up twice, been unable to decipher which hall he was in (apparently Lorr's translation skills only went so far as the spoken vocabulary), and had ended up being ten minutes late to his first lecture. He had been fortunate enough not to receive a tardy, though his professor had been less than pleased to give him his first warning not to show up late a second time.

The sun has gone to sleep, Master, Lorr implored again as Nicholas selected a spot against the edge of the shingles where he had a bird's-eye-view of the entire property. As has everyone else. Should we not be doing the same? And you have studies early in the morning, hardly later than the sun's rising. It would be in your best interests to rest now while the world is still and free of strife.

"I'll go back in a few minutes," Nicholas promised, growing rapidly annoyed by the hippogriff's endless pleading. "I just need some time alone first."

Alone?

Not you, man, Nicholas hastily corrected himself, hearing the sharp sting in his kwami's words. I don't mind you being here with me. It's everyone else that I'd like to avoid.

I do not understand this process, Master Nicholas, Lorr confessed. Is it not wise to seek guidance from allies in times of great despair and hardship? Do you not wish to discuss your concerns with the Guild or--

--or with Milo? Nicholas cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say. He let his gaze flick briefly to the envelope he was clutching so tightly in his fingers before returning once more to the illuminated city. Not for this, he went on. Grimm wouldn't understand. He doesn't...have the kind of relationship with his family that I did. He doesn't love his sister with the same feelings that I do for Nino.

And so you push him away and retreat to undisclosed locations on your own to attempt and solve your own problems without aid?

It's worked for me so far, hasn't it?

Lorr was strangely silent and Nicholas wasn't sure whether to take that as agreement or complete disappointment with his life choices. Well, either way, the bird (kwami, the hippogriff huffed, though perhaps with not as much irritation as usual) was stuck with him now. They'd been through too much together to be separated. The Guild had seen that when they had first arrived, Master Fu had seen that, even upon his (highly forced by Su-Han) departure.

"Keep an eye on this kwami, young man," Fu had urged as he had been led away by a number of threatening men, "and Lorr, you take care of this one. He's not like the rest. I think the two of you have a great destiny ahead of you."

Nicholas almost laughed at the irony of that now. Great destiny indeed. Five years of hard work and excruciatingly long hours of study and what did he have to show for it? A fake diploma and a fake degree at a college he hadn't even wanted to attend in the first place. This was very far from the grandiose life full of excitement and thrill he had been hoping for when he agreed to come with Fu and Kila, nor as rich with knowledge as he had been promised.

In fact, in terms of receiving the answers to hundreds of unspoken questions, he felt further from the truth than he had back when he'd first discovered Lorr.

No, at times like these, it was better for everyone if he was alone.

Breathing deeply through his nose, during which he tried not to think how high off the pavement he really was, he heaved himself onto the ledge and swung his legs haphazardly over the end, allowing his heels to clunk into the solid brick wall. He swayed for a brief moment, righting himself by gripping the railing tightly with both hands. At the same time, he fished for a pen from one of the many hidden pockets he'd come to discover lined his suit, and carefully tapped the end to the piece of paper, pondering how best to phrase what he wanted--no, needed--to say.

He could feel Lorr's curious consciousness swivel toward the card and envelope and the gentle cluck of acceptance from the kwami. It's that time already? Lorr mused, shaking an invisible tailfeather and sending chills all through his holder's body. My, how the time has flown. Pardon my use of colloquiums.

Nicholas did not respond to the questions. Instead, he lowered the ink pen and began to scrawl out hasty amethyst words across a small space.

It is now late in the season. The world has evolved greatly these past years. The threat of destruction grows ever nearer and I fear I have not been properly equipped for the storm that brews across the horizon. Daily, I await the end, for I do not know the day nor the hour. We are the keepers of the secret world, a  dangerous  world, one that the rest of humanity would give everything to know. But, yet, it remains too risky. The miraculouses are too dangerous--too  corruptive --for the governments of Earth to wield. What we see as weapons of peace could easily become instruments of destruction and division. This is why they were hidden away in the first place, so that no one man could have too much control; actually, much like the government system of the country in which I have come to reside. It is...different here, so much varies from the familiarities of Paris. I have not yet grown accustomed to this place, but I know I will. That's a lesson I have learned to be true after all this time; adapt, survive, grow stronger and--

He stopped there, lifting his ink to set the pen down beside him with a frown, rereading his messy handwriting, second-guessing everything from the wording to the amount of information he was spilling onto a document that could easily be intercepted before it could reach its destination. If this fell into the wrong hands, or worse yet, if something happened to its recipient because the bad guys realized the ties between them...

He promptly crushed the paper in his fist with a growl, proceeding to shove the ball and pen back into his pocket as he began to stand up, crossing his arms and glowering at the silent courtyard below.

You have quite a way with words, if I do say so myself, Master.

Nicholas scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling the tail of his cloak close as he looked on--though what exactly he was hoping to locate, even he was not sure. I can't send this, Lorr, he complained. I can't say what I need to say. It puts too many people at risk. Why does this whole superhero thing have to be so stupidly hard?

Lorr offered a few reassuring chitters but they did absolutely nothing to resolve the knawing sinking feeling of despair that had firmly settled into the human's stomach as Nicholas finally pulled away from the ledge, all hopes and concentration regarding the peaceful night shattered by crushing disappointment.

Okay, man, you win. I'm done. Let's go back. "Lorr, Talons Do--" he began, however, the words did not completely form on his tongue as he was cut off mid-thought by the sudden click from a nearby door and the crunch of dead leaves as whoever was below trudged away from him.

Hang on, he telepathed, already moving along the edge of the structure. I thought we were the only ones out here.

It is well after midnight, Lorr chittered, his anxiety rolling over onto Nicholas. There are no night classes that require attendance at this hour.

Meaning someone is disobeying the rules.

You're going to follow them and find out who it is, aren't you? He didn't sound extremely surprised. Might I remind you that you too are out of your dorm and thus are disobeying the rules also?

Which means I have the perfect opportunity to catch them red-handed! Nicholas was picking up the pace now, hurrying along toward the opposite edge of the structure.

I am not sure you are  comprehending  the folly of your own  situation  here, Master.

But Nicholas, per usual, wasn't listening to his frets, his attention solely fixated on the sweeping coat and huddled mass swiftly moving across the field and back toward the dorms.

Tread cautiously, Nicholas, Lorr sighed, having long learned the boy's tendency to zone out when he got hyperfixated on something--or someone.

Aren't  I always?

Our consciousnesses are unified. Is it truly prevalent to the situation  that   I  respond?

Nicholas grunted his disapproval as he reached the far end of the roof at last and quickly made his way down the fire escape, moving swiftly and noiselessly through the adjacent alleyway formed by the two dorms. The figure passed a moment later and Nicholas drew further into the darkness, flattening himself against the icy-cold concrete, going as small as he possibly could.

What is your plan now? Lorr whispered. And for the Guild, what are you planning to do with those? he added with an alarmed squeak when Nicholas didn't answer right away and instead drew two of his daggers from his costume, spinning them thoughtfully between his fingers as his eye took in everything around him and the beginnings of a plan began to form.

No one should be out this late unless they are up to no good, Nicholas reasoned darkly. This has to be our spy.

You do see the flaws of your logic here, don't you?

You worry too much, Lorr. I fought Su-Han and survived. I think I can handle one simple spy.

But you didn't beat him! Lorr urged. Please, Nicholas, be careful! Don't make the same mistakes as before!

I am always careful, dude.

And with that, he closed one eye, took aim, and chucked the daggers as hard as he could. They landed with a clink and ping on either side of the figure, stopping them in their tracks and providing Nicholas the momentary distraction he needed to make his move. He swung out of the shadows at such a force he felt his legs momentarily buckle, but the earth rose to meet him much too quickly for him to have time to worry about it and he twisted, catching ahold of the figure by the shoulders and dragging them down onto the earth with him. He landed hard on top of them and gasped as the wind was knocked from his lungs.

The being gave a startled shout but quickly reacted to the attack, extending and arching backward and lashing out with their legs, wrapping them around his neck and throwing him off to the side. They scrambled up and braced themselves to fight while Nicholas lay on the grass, seeing stars.

What was  that ?!

Master, get up! Lorr yelped. He's coming back!

Nicholas obeyed, his eyes shooting upwards just as a boot came soaring for his head. He gasped and automatically rolled to his right. The shoe crashed into the dirt and Nicholas took advantage of this to flip over and strike out with a leg-sweep/breakdance combo, kicking the figure's feet out from underneath them and sending them dropping back to the dirt, coughing in surprise.

Nicholas didn't wait, scrambling over and pinning the figure down with a firm push against their shoulders. "Who are you?" he demanded, tensed and slightly straddling his opponent. "What are they planning? Why do you want miraculouses? Why did you kill my father?"

The being stared up at him for the longest time before they spoke, an appropriate amount of fear in their tone, at least in his opinion. "Oriole?"

Nicholas froze. That voice...sounded familiar. Why did that voice sound familiar?

Careful, Lorr breathed. This could be a trap.

Yes, that was a very real possibility, but there was only one way to be absolutely sure. So, drawing a sharp breath, Nicholas reached out and yanked back his opponent's hood, revealing a very familiar face underneath.

Nicholas lurched back at the awe-struck pools of blue staring up at him. "You?" he exclaimed, recognizing the female from the previous day. Immediately, he loosened his grip on her shoulders, allowing her to push herself onto her elbows. "What...it's you?"

"I...I don't understand. Y-you're Oriole," the girl stammered, seeming almost, if not more, confused than the boy. "How is that p-possible? I...I mean, you are Oriole, aren't you? The...the French superhero? The one who vanished five years ago?"

Nicholas could feel his defenses crumbling the longer he knelt before her. "You...know who I am? Wait, why...why are you after my miraculous?"

She looked extremely befuddled. "After your...what? I don't know what a miraculous is, but I didn't even know you were still alive until now! What happened in Paris? Why did you leave and why in the world are you in New York?"

"Wait...so you're not the one sent to steal our miraculouses?"

"No, seriously, what's a 'miraculous'?"

"But...if you're not using the computer lab to send encrypted messages to the bad guys, what are you doing out past curfew?"

She wrinkled her nose and cautiously raised a hand to adjust her class. "I think I could ask you the same question since clearly, you must be a student as well if you somehow know me."

"You don't know that," Nicholas countered quickly.

She raised an eyebrow. "No, but nothing else makes sense and I can say for certain that I don't make it a habit to hang around missing and presumably dead French metahumans. So, you want to tell me how you know me and why you thought jumping me on the way back from the library was a good idea?"

Yes, I too would be interested in understanding the motivation behind your actions, Nicholas.

Lorr...

I know, Master, I know. Zip my beak.

"An interesting use of a movie reference," Nicholas granted, trying his best not to grin like an idiot while he was trying to be tough. "But I still don't know if I believe you."

"Eh, fair enough," the girl shrugged. "If I were in your shoes, I don't know if I would believe me either. But do you think you could at least get off of me? This is going to look super uncomfortable to any poor security guard who might happen to be on duty tonight. I promise not to run."

"Oh," Nicholas blushed scarlet, backtracking so quickly that he nearly fell onto his rear. Lorr said something more in scolding but Nicholas was too overwhelmed with his own embarrassment to hear. "Kalimati, I'm...I'm sorry. I...what I mean is...uh, here." With that, he scrambled to his feet, backing away hurriedly and holding out his hand to assist her. She accepted his gesture and heaved herself up. The hood of her jacket flopped down over her shoulders, putting to rest any doubts Nicholas had been harboring concerning a possible siamese twin. This was undoubtedly the same girl he had met the day before--only, she didn't know they had ever spoken.

"Phew!" the girl exclaimed, brushing dead leaves and grass from her clothing. "Well, I can officially check that off my bucket list. 'Get tackled to the ground by a superhero while walking innocently home from school.'  Check and check."

Nicholas blinked. "That's an odd thing to have on a bucket list, don't you think?"

She smiled nervously. "Well, to be fair, in my defense, I wasn't exactly expecting to ever meet a superhero. You know, since for the most part, they aren't real? Well, except for you, apparently. You're very real." There was no discomfort or stammer in her words now, Nicholas noted, though her knowing so much about him definitely freaked him out. 

"So...I take it you've...heard of me?" He wasn't sure how uncomfortable he should feel about that. 

"Oh, yeah, of course!" the female agreed. "Your name was on the news for weeks. There were a lot of rumors going around about why you left so soon after first showing yourself to the world. And now I am wondering why you are here. We're really far away from Paris. You're after something, aren't you? Or...someone's after you?"

"Ah..." 

Careful, Nicholas, Lorr chirped warningly. Remember that we still have no proof that she will not betray us.

"Oh, right," the girl caught herself automatically when he didn't respond, smiling sheepishly. "You probably can't tell me that, can you? Super secret identities and all that."

"Yeah, something like that." Man, how much about superheroes does this woman know? I feel like I'm talking to the Su-Han of nerds.

So, in other words, the exact counterpart of you? 

"Right, well..." she hitched her backpack further up on her shoulders and turned away from the man, blinking tiredly toward the distant dorms and trying to hide a yawn behind a fist. "I...should probably get going. And as much as I would love to stay and ask you a million more questions, you should go too. Classes start at eight and we both should get some sleep before then."

He agreed with her, knowing she was right, but, still, he followed her. He wasn't sure why, but there was something almost magnetic, pulling him after her. "Why do you assume I am a student?" he inquired again, moving to walk alongside her. She flashed him a brief look of surprise, but then shrugged. "How do you know I'm not a professor or just a random concerned citizen who happened to see you walking alone after dark and decided to be your knight in shining...uh...spandex?"

She actually smiled at that. "You're not a professor," was the answer he received without hesitation. "For one; I have met most, if not all, of the teachers at this school. Secondly; I don't think you're that much older than me. Five years, maybe, max. And even though I admit I started early, a professional teaching career is six to eight years depending. So, unless you started college when you were in, like, ninth grade, you're a student."

"I'm twenty-one," Nicholas blurted.

"Whoa there, Beast Boy. Personal information, remember? Wow, you really aren't used to this whole secret identity thing, are you? Besides, I don't even know you. You just told your age to a complete stranger."

"Well, since you already know so much about me somehow, I don't see how that could harm anyone. My name's Griffon."

She snorted. "Griffon? How did you come up with that one?"

He deflated slightly at her tone. "It sounded cool," he mumbled, feeling the heat rising as he scrambled for something smart to say. "And I think I'm more of a Robin anyway. Beast Boy is...well, he's not me."

Now she laughed. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead and tell yourself that, Garfield."

"No, really, I think I'm more of a Dick Grayson kind of dude."

"Oh, yeah, and I'm Starfire. Right."

"Well, I was thinking Raven, but sure."

She snorted again and, almost on cue, drew up her hood in a clear attempt to hide a furious blush. They walked in silence for a few minutes before either could find a way to break the awkwardness.

"So..." Nicholas tried as they rounded a bend and began the last leg to the complexes. "You know your superheroes."

She smiled awkwardly, refusing to look his way, her glasses flashing in the moonlight. "Yeah...I guess you could say that. And you're not too shabby either."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a working progress," he confessed. He felt a shift in his pocket and her eyes immediately darted to the crumpled letter he had been attempting to write, the words in plain view to the girl as she now stood in front of his before a small staircase he assumed would take her back to her room. He coughed weakly and stuffed the paper back away, catching a flash of pity in the female's eyes as he did.

"You're homesick," she guessed. It wasn't a question and Nicholas, caught off guard by the sudden transition, didn't have time to think before he found himself nodding tentatively. "You have family back...back in France?" He didn't answer again, afraid of what would come out, but she didn't seem put off by this. "I'm sure they miss you too. You should...you should finish that letter. Let them know that you're okay. That's what you were going to do, wasn't it?"

"I...I can't." His voice cracked terribly at this confession and he looked away abruptly to avoid seeing her reaction. "I mean...I tried, but I...it just wouldn't be safe for them to know. Not now. Not when I could put them in danger."

The brunette nodded, folding her arms and spinning to face him fully once more. "Well, then, I guess it comes down to finding out who is after you and stopping them, right? Because once you do that, then you can go home, yeah?"

"If only it were that easy," Nicholas scoffed. 

She tilted her head slightly. "I think it could be," she argued. "You're just scared of how they will react when you show up on their front stoop."

"You don't understand," he muttered, crossing his arms defensively. "I'm here to learn the truth. I can't go back just like that. It's...not possible."

She sighed. "Okay," she said, shrugging heavily in defeat. "I'll admit, I don't know why you would come all the way to the United States and it's probably really none of my business anyway, but...well...I'm pretty good with...with figuring things out." He raised a questioning eyebrow and she hastily rushed on. "What I mean is, if you ever just want to...you know, talk, about...about anything, um...I'm here...most of the time." She pointed toward the second-floor balcony, curved around the front side of the dorm. "And I think I'm a pretty good listener."

Nicholas smiled. "I might take you up on that some time," he said. "Just as long as you promise to keep me out of your stories."

Her grin momentarily faltered. "What?"

Oops. Now you've gone and done it, Lahiffe.

"Ah, never mind!" Nicholas backtracked, physically stepping away from her. "I just...I noticed yesterday, that you were...er...writing...and it didn't look like you were doing a school essay and I just assumed...you know...?" 

She squinted up at him suspiciously and he grinned apprehensively in return. "All right," she agreed deliberately and slowly. "No thrilling tales of the mysterious bird hero of Paris. You have my word."

"Hippogriff," Nicholas corrected before he could help himself.

"Hippogriff," she repeated. "Huh. Interesting." With that, she turned on her heels and started up the first few stairs, leaving Nicholas standing below, watching her until she had scaled her way to the top. She paused only briefly upon reaching her door--the fourth one door--and spun to give him one last questioning glance. "Good night, Griffon."

"Good night, mysterious stranger," Nicholas replied, tentatively raising a hand in farewell.

Master, Lorr coaxed, breaking his way into his holder's mind once again, his vow of silence coming to an abrupt end. It is time for us to depart.

All right, man. I hear you. I'm ready to go.

He stood, rooted to the spot for a moment or two longer, waiting until the girl was safely back in her room before he twirled on the heels of his boots and stealthily made his way back to his own dorm, being sure to take a series of round-about paths to avoid possible curious tails. Once he was sure he hadn't been followed, he quickly scaled the side of his complex and swung in through the window, dropping his transformation and closing the pane as Milo continued to snore like a rhinoceros. 

"My word, dude," he grunted, not even bothering to translate to Arabic a second time as Lorr spiraled out of his miraculous and went to settle in a pile of small blankets and a beanbag-turned-bed next to Trekk's. Nicholas shook his head with a knowing smirk and went to sit down at his desk, twisting on the lamp and pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. He then drew out his pen, closing his eyes and inhaling yet another steady breath as what the strange girl had told him.

You should tell them the truth. They'll want to know you're okay.

He put the tip of the pen down and began to write.

Dear Nino,

I don't know if you are getting these letters, but if you are, watch your back. Something's coming. I can't explain everything yet, but I think I might have my first lead on Ab. Be careful and don't trust anyone. 

I love you. I'll see you soon. 

Keep that hat safe for me.

~N.

Chapter Text

"Dude!" Milo scolded, his voice exploding from the next room as the shower turned off and the model emerged, messing with the laces of his shoes as he rang out his unruly mop of blond. "Have you gone completely crazy?"

Nicholas winced at the forcefulness of his tone as he peeked up from his schedule in time to receive a towel to the face. Peeling the fabric away, he watched as Milo stormed over to his bunk and began tossing books and papers into his bag. "I guess that depends on your definition of 'crazy'," he replied, doing the same with his things. Lorr jumped at the resounding thwack and blinked up at him with confused oceans of chocolate. "Sorry," he added off-handedly to the kwami.

Milo chucked something hard into the backpack as he whipped back to glare at his roommate angrily. "You don't get it, do you?" he hissed, sounding unusually snake-like. "Nicholas, we are supposed to be here in secret! Why on earth would you go straight out and reveal yourself to a potential bad guy?"

"She's not a thief, Grimm," Nicholas insisted. "When I confronted her, she didn't even know what a miraculous was! How could she steal something she didn't know anything about?"

"She could have been hired, man!" Milo groaned. "Maybe it was a blind deal! People do it all the time! She could have been baiting you and you walked right into it. Idiot," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Nicholas to catch it. "You're a lovable idiot, Lahiffe, but an idiot nevertheless. You're just too trusting. Not everyone is going to be as alright with a superhero appearing out of the blue as you tend to do. You need to be more careful who you let get close to you or you're going to get us--and everyone on this campus--killed."

Nicholas squinted at him as the boy gathered the last of his things and slung his bag over his shoulder, already halfway to the door before the Moroccan could blink.

"I'm going to class now," Milo went on without looking back. "You should do the same. And try and keep your head in the game this time, would you? This is serious. Trekk, let's go."

The kwami's head shot up at the use of his name and he snarled irritably, carefully rising from his place next to Lorr and gliding over to drop silently into his holder's bag as Grimm readjusted his fingerless gloves and stepped outside into the hall.

Nicholas gawked, momentarily trapped in place by his mystification. "What was that all about?" he ruminated aloud as soon as the blond was out of earshot.

Lorr chirped something incoherent as he too lifted from the beanbag and darted over to try and assist with his holder's volumes, awkwardly lifting one of the smaller ones into the air, snapping the boy out of his stupor and sending him scrambling for his books as his phone gave its first blaring warning of imminent doomsday-meaning his first anatomy class.

"Well, no time to worry about Milo's spastic tendencies right now," the boy went on, opening up his bag once more to allow Lorr to dive inside. "We've got other pressing matters to attend to. Come on, Lorr. Let's get going."

Ready when you are, Master. Might I suggest you recite what we have been practicing as we go? This will be a good opportunity for you to make new friends, but in either case, your story will have to be believable.

Nah, Lorr, Nicholas shrugged him off as he hitched up his bag and followed in Milo's footsteps. I got this, man. My name's Ryan Morgan. I am twenty-one years old. I am a social outcast and geek extraordinaire. My parents are both dead from a car accident and I was raised by my uncle in a distant third-world country. I was brought to New York when I was five and I learned English as a second language. That's why I don't always understand the jokes and expressions that I often hear and why I often sound different when I speak. Huh, good to know some things about my alter-alterego haven't changed.

Secret identities are often based on what is already comfortable, Lorr explained. They are essentially the building blocks of what we already know. For example, your persona was built to be a tad more on the quiet and reserved side, which naturally fits your given demeanor, while Milo's was built to be more influential and outspoken.

You make me sound like a rip-off character out of a book or something. Nicholas chuckled, wondering what kind of maniac would want to read a story about someone with as much natural bad luck and poor life choices as himself.

Lorr, seeing the same image, laughed as well and Nicholas let his feet carry him across the campus to the health science hall almost directly on the other end of the field. The morning dawned bright and warm, but he still found comfort in his denim jacket and thick hikers as he squished his way through the morning moist and dew. He wasn't the only one out, transversing the grounds at this early time, but he noted the number of pedestrians had diminished greatly since the field exposition. He felt almost alone, trudging through the field, earbuds in hand, yet not playing, the music forgotten as his mind moved on to other things.

You're concerned about what your classmates might think of you, Lorr observed, butting back in without any warning. After your show-of-hands for your first lecture, you fear that the other humans will refuse to take you seriously or have anything to do with you, thus repeating your fortune with your classmates in Paris.

You don't have to be so good at reading my mind, Nicholas retorted by means of reply. He thought he caught a glimpse of Milo's hair as the blond paused a number of buildings down and turned back to give him one final significant look; a look that plainly read; "Don't you even think about messing this up." Besides, I'm not concerned about them, he went on, giving Milo two thumbs-up and receiving a grimace in reply. They can think whatever they want of me. There's only one person here that I want to be friends with.

And I'm guessing you aren't referring to Milo? Lorr guessed with a sigh of disappointment.

What...Milo? I'm already friends with Milo, Nicholas pointed out. Best friends, remember? No, I think we might have an ally here, but I still need to be sure.

So, what's your plan to prove this girl is on our side? Lorr asked. I take it that is who you were referring to? Remember, she doesn't know anything about you-the real you or the façade that you are playing.

Yes, but she does know about Griffon, Nicholas reminded him. He ran up the last few steps and heaved open the solid glass doors, ducking inside and being greeted with a whoosh of cold air. And that's at least something to start with. After all, I know a thing or two about Griffon as well.

Nicholas, I am not sure this is a good idea.

I'll just have to be careful, Nicholas went on. I won't say anything that might incriminate myself. After we got back last night, I stayed up late searching for any data I could find about "Oriole". Apparently, someone caught a video of me taking on those bank robbers and it went...what's the word...viral? Did you know I have an entire fanbase now? Some of the comments are absolutely bonkers. I have fangirls. Do you believe that? Me. Girls are actually interested in me.

I don't doubt it, Lorr mumbled somberly. You're a tad irresistible. Must be that natural clueless charisma you are so famous for. Did you inherit that or is it special to you alone?

But the point is, Nicholas went on, sure Lorr was insulting him in some manner or another and deciding to ignore his griping. I know more about what they think they know about me than they do. So, whatever questions she could possibly throw at me, I'll be ready.

I hope so, was the kwami's only reply. Because, otherwise, we will all be in trouble.

Nicholas scoffed at his friend's dismal mood and moved to stick one earbud in and pick an extremely upbeat song as he rounded the last bend and ducked quietly into the lab. Multiple pairs of eyes flicked briefly his way before returning to their books, but he had arrived before the professor today, so he merely flashed them a weak smile and then hurried off to find a seat near the back of the class.

It was a familiar feeling-albeit not necessarily the best one-to have rows upon rows of heads before him, broken only by a thick and solid whiteboard and a desk that positively signaled the preferred pacing place of his professor.

The latter showed up about five minutes later and, after some quick introductions, began the lesson.

And, as Nicholas had fully expected, it was the most boring lesson ever. It took him a whole five minutes to just want to curl back into bed and stay there for the rest of the day. Why did he need to know the five-thousand different bones in a human body anyway? All he was going to do was draw someone from the surface level, so surely this was all extensive and mundane for him to have to sit through.

I really don't like science...

His stupor was brought to an abrupt halt, however, when the professor suddenly announced the second phase of their lab, which would include something Nicholas hadn't heard since high school and had really hoped he'd never hear again.

Lab partners.

Fantastic.

So, as the multitude of students (probably rounding out at about twenty-five all told, Nicholas guessed, at an early estimate) began to shuffle around the room to find other endearing souls to be ultimately stuck with for the rest of the semester, Nicholas stiffened and kept his eyes firmly fixed on his note--currently blank, just like his mind.

Time passed and no one came close to his desk, which he was perfectly content with. He could do this project--whatever it was--by himself. He didn't need help. Besides, he was already being hounded for being too distracted. No doubt this teaming-up attempt would only make it worse.

But then again, he was getting lucky so far. Perhaps everyone would just go about their own little worlds and entirely ignore him. That was natural. That felt right to him.

"Um...excuse me?"

He started at the soft whisper above his head and cold dread filled his veins as he instantly recognized it, Milo's words igniting a hundred warning sirens throughout his brain. But not even the sinking feeling of of-course-she-would-see-me-darn-it could prevent the way his eyes automatically shot up to meet the nervous smile from the younger girl and...her companion.

"Er...hi?" he managed to squeak, gaze darting from the brunette, who today was dressed in a navy-blue everything, to the second female, this one with blacker hair styled into a boy-cut and dressed in overalls with paint and graphite coating her face and hands. A fellow artist, he recognized immediately. Instantly, he wished he had access to his sketch pad and he clenched his hands to combat that urge.

"Sorry for i-intruding," the writing girl stammered out, looking like she wanted nothing more than to get out of dodge, a completely different demeanor than he'd seen on her the previous night, "but...aren't you one of those boys from the other day with the map?"

"You mean the one that was reading the brochure upside down for fifteen minutes without realizing it?" Nicholas questioned, chuckling nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Guilty as charged. And you're the one who helped us find admissions. Thanks again for that."

She squeaked and her ears reddened, perhaps shocked that he'd actually remembered her.

Her partner glanced her way and then over at Nicholas boredly and then back again. "Oh, for crying out loud!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands and snapping the brunette out of her stupor. "We noticed that you didn't have a team for the project yet and so Kat, in all of her spouts of insane generosity, decided we should come over and see if you might want to join us, right Kat?"

"Only if want you--only if you want to!" the girl--Kat?--added, waving her hands in front of her face fearfully. "If you don't, you can just say so and we'll go and let you be, and, yeah, Mel, he doesn't want us here. Let's go and--"

"Deep breath," the second female instructed, laying a hand on Kat's shoulder, pulling the girl back before she could flee for her life. "You haven't even given the man a chance to process, let alone answer, you caffeine-zombie." And then she turned back to Nicholas. "Well, anyway, in case you didn't catch all of that, I'm Mel and the hyperactive mess of mass confusion here with me is Kayl--"

"Kat," the nervous girl interjected.

"--Kat, yes, right. Anyway, we would be willing to team up with you if you would be interested in having us as your lab partners. You seemed a little lonely over here by yourself."

Nicholas stared. "You...want to work with me?" he echoed, feeling his panic spike immediately. However, at the same time, warmth flooded his being. There were actually people out there--other than Milo--who could stand to be around him? He was shocked. And grateful. And getting way too emotional.

"I mean, why not?" Mel shrugged. "You look like you could use the company and trust me, Kat here can talk your ear off--when she's not stammering like someone just murdered her favorite pet."

Nicholas leaped to his feet, probably much too eagerly, shoving all of his things to the side and making room for them to sit down as well. "Yes!" he exclaimed, hearing his voice crack like an adolescent but not caring in the least. "Uh...I mean, yeah, sure. Make yourselves comfortable. I'm Nicho--ahhhh, Ryan. Sorry, Ryan. Ryan Morgan. But my friends call me...call me Nick."

Careful! Lorr hissed.

I know, Lorr, I know! I heard myself too!

"They call you Nick?" Mel asked, puzzled, taking a seat across from him and all but yanking Kat down between them. "How did that happen?"

"Ah...great question. Also, long story," Nicholas fumbled, grasping desperately for straws. Milo was really going to kill him now.

Kat peered at him for a moment--holding his gaze a second longer than was necessary, before abruptly ducking down for her backpack which she had conveniently set on the side away from him. At that same moment, her phone buzzed, and in the briefest moment the screen lit, Nicholas caught a glimpse of a familiar website and recognized his opportunity.

"Hey, is that the website for that French superhero, G--er...Oriole?"

Kat squeaked, fumbling and nearly dropping her device. "Y-you know about Oriole?"

Nicholas sat back in his chair, trying to look more relaxed than he felt, and nodded. "Of course. My brothers love superheroes. I practically know everything there is to know about this guy. But...I didn't know he had a website. I thought he died or something...like years ago?"

Mel rolled her eyes and rested her head on her hand, staring on blankly as Kat immediately lit up as though Christmas had come early. And then, to Nicholas's surprise, she suddenly leaned forward and put her arms around them both, pulling them into a huddle, eying the professor as he passed their desk. "Would you believe me if I told you that I have seen him?"

"Oh, not this again," Mel groaned, rubbing her face. "K, I thought we'd already gone through all of this last night. You can't have seen Oriole because Oriole doesn't exist. He's a figment of your imagination. You're a writer. You have a lot of those."

Kat stared back at her, indignation written all over her features, along with a redding tint of embarrassment for Nicholas's sake. "I didn't make this up!" she protested. "And besides, that's a terrible excuse! You write just as much as me!"

Mel still looked unconvinced, but Nicholas found himself giving the girl a reassuring smile. "Well, I believe you." Oh, what was he saying? He was supposed to be talking her out of what she had seen, not encouraging her!

She returned his smile warmly. Her nose and cheeks were dusted with freckles. He hadn't noticed them before. "You do?" she gasped delightedly. "Really? You're not...just saying that?"

"Well, yeah," Nicholas barreled on, ignoring Lorr's indignant huff, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks and neck the deeper he dug his grave. Perhaps he should have invested in a shovel. "I mean, no. I mean...it was all over the news, wasn't it? How he stopped those robbers, right? And then he just disappeared and no one has seen him since."

"Until last night," Kat agreed, nodding. "I ran across him on the way back from a study session. He...he thought I was trying to steal something from him. A miracular or whatever."

"A miraculous?" Nicholas corrected automatically and then immediately bit his tongue as he realized his mistake.

NICHOLAS.

She blinked, slightly taken aback. "Um...yes, actually. That's exactly what he called it. How did you...know that?"

Lie! Lorr ordered with a level of agitation Nicholas had never felt from him before. Lie right now, you blasted bird-brain! You're going to get us grounded forever!

"Oh...ah...I...saw something about it online," Nicholas responded through his teeth. "Apparently there was another incident later that week at a zoo. Griffon was there and someone else too. They demanded something he called a miraculous. I don't know anything more about what that might be, though."

"Huh. Maybe Kat can ask him the next time he pops in for a visit," Mel said sarcastically. "Since Mr. Birdman has taken such a keen interest in her."

"He's a hippogriff," Kat corrected and Nicholas's face exploded pink like it was the Fourth of July. "He told me. Everyone thinks he's a bird, but he's not."

"Fascinating," Mel groaned, now flipping through her textbook as the professor began dishing out instructions and they were forced to turn their attentions from the conversation at hand to identifying and labeling the two hundred and six bones in the body.

Later, as the class finally ended and Nicholas was throwing his bag back over his shoulders to begin his trek to his next class, the flurry of nervous footsteps drew his eyes upward and he plastered on what he hoped was an inviting smirk. "Hey again."

"Hey," Kat breathed while Mel looked on from behind with a deadpan. "So, this might sound absurd, but do you maybe want to...meet up for...coffee or something later? I mean, I don't drink coffee but I could always get lemonade or something but..." She trailed off there and she took a long mental breath before continuing. "I was just thinking, you know about Oriole. I am obsessed with him. Maybe we should...team up? I can...I can buy the drinks if...if you want."

"Oh," Nicholas hesitated in the doorway, blocking the exit and receiving a number of rough shoves to the shoulders as the other students forced their way past them. "Uh, I would like to but..." He paused, his gaze darting to his phone, half expecting Milo to leap through the screen and strangle him. "I actually was going to meet a friend for lunch. It's kind of a tradition and I don't want to..." He trailed off again, catching sight of the disappointment glistening in her eyes. She kept on smiling but he was well accustomed to the differences of fake acceptance. "Er...well, I guess I could come. I'm sure he would be alright if I skipped one day. I'll just text him and tell him now so...uh...where were you thinking of meeting?"

She continued to stare at him as though he had sprouted a second head. "T-there's a little cafe b-behind the library," she stammered out, wringing her hands and fiddling with a pencil out of the corner of his eye. "Uh...they have really good wifi and...coffee...if you're into that kind of thing. And it's pretty quiet, so that way we could, um, compare notes."

He had no idea why she was freaking out so much about this. He was the one who needed to be careful. This was the girl to whom he had spilled too much of the truth already. If he didn't watch his wording, he would sink them both and their mission would be over before it even could begin. But he couldn't say no either. Not without making himself look extremely guilty in the process.

Nicholas-- the kwami began again, even though he knew it was pointless to try.

I know. I'm sorry, Lorr, but I have to do it. It's going to look much worse if I don't.

"That sounds like a plan," he said at last, stuffing his phone into his pocket and shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "What time is your last class? I can meet you there afterward."

"Eleven," she responded. "I'll be there by one."

"One o'clock," Nicholas repeated. "All right. It's a date then. See you later, Kat." 

And then he spun on his heels and dove into the mass chaos of bodies swarming into the terrace, leaving one very red-faced teenager in his wake. Lorr muttered something in the way of irritation and "the purpose of discreet" and his nerves were flying off the walls, but it didn't matter either way. 

The sun was shining, the day was just beginning, and for a reason he couldn't even begin to pinpoint, he felt better than he had in a very long time.

Chapter Text

One o'clock rolled around, finding Nicholas ascending the stairs to the library three at a time, backpack smacking hard against his shoulders, and Lorr screeching at the top of his voiceless lungs, something about "an inexcusable abuse of power" and "what would Su-Han think?", both of which fell on deaf ears and a swirl of unexplainable excitement and adrenaline that coursed through his veins. He didn't understand why he was suddenly feeling this way...it certainly wasn't his normal method of operation...but once it had gotten started, there was no way to curb it, much to Lorr's dismay.

Are you actually willing to risk everything that you have spent the last five years trying to achieve on a girl you met less than forty-eight hours ago? the kwami demanded, with little hope of actually getting through. He had learned long ago that it was no good to try to reason with his holder when he was in this state and in the past two days, Nicholas had proven to be no less of an arrogant, hot-headed, rash kid than he had ever been.

I'm not...no, Lorr. I'm not throwing everything down the drain for her. I just think she may know something that the Guild would find informative.

So, you're only using her then?

No, that's not what I'm--I just think she could help us, that's all.

And that's why you're planning to meet her again after hours and you intend to ensnare me to take part in your endeavors of madness. You know what Milo thinks, and I am starting to agree with him. You are becoming reckless--more so than you have ever been--and people like Su-Han are beginning to notice.

It was Milo's idea for me to try and impress her, Nicholas retorted. I'm doing exactly what he wanted.

Yes, but he wanted you to get to know her as yourself! Not as Griffon! It was never a matter of the Guild's security until you foolishly decided to take your late-night walkabout and exposed our entire world to this girl who...quite honestly, had no business knowing anything about our existence.

So, that's it then? Nicholas fired back as he yanked the huge glass doors open and stormed inside. You're siding with Grimm over me? That's not what a friend is supposed to do, you know. You're supposed to be on my side here.

I'm not siding with anyone, Lorr countered. I am a kwami, thus I do not pick favorites. I can only see the most effective means of success and the correct course to effectively achieve our goal.

In other words, you think I'm going to make the spy nervous enough to move ahead with their plans early.

That is one possibility, yes. But even if you don't stir up some kind of negative reaction, what are you going to tell her once she figures it out?

She's not going to figure it out. I've already given you my word on that. I can be discreet when I need to be.

And when was the last time you attempted to be, as you put it, discreet?

Nicholas huffed as the door slapped shut behind him and he found himself standing in the archway stretching outwards into a massive room stocked from floor to ceiling with shelvings stacked high with every type of book imaginable. Okay, yeah, this was definitely the library. Nicholas shuddered, recalling the extensive amounts of time he had spent at the one in Paris, studying and adapting to the cultures of the fast-paced city. Tens upon tens of weekends hiding away from social events and just...people in general...appeared to have finally paid off.

I don't think you know the definition of the word 'discreet'.

I have begun to suspect that neither do you.

Sure I do, Lorr. I know exactly what it means. His eyes drifted from the massive tower of novels to the numerous polished oak tables circling the mid-portion of the room and then on to the mini-cafe and arcade tucked away in the back corner of the hall.

No, Lorr sighed. No, I really don't think you do. But don't listen to me. What do I know? I'm just the kwami of Wisdom after all.

Nicholas did his very best to give his kwami the harshest mental scowl he could muster. Could it be possible that, after all this time, you are finally beginning to grasp the concept of sarcasm?

If your explanation of sarcasm is saying one thing in an unnatural tone and meaning something entirely the opposite, then perhaps I have begun to learn.

The boy snorted, tugging at the straps of his pack uncomfortably. The device rolled about in his pocket, unused and waiting for the right moment. His hand wandered mindlessly to shove it further down beside his bike keys and Lorr chittered breathily to the point his holder could almost see the quiet headshake of disappointment. The pendant slapped hard against his racing heart, growing heavy as he scanned the room once more for a familiar figure. Not picking her from the wandering few immediately, he smirked and trudged toward the receptionist's desk with his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes averted and head low.

So, what is your brilliant plan to extract information from our new friend? Lorr went on. Charm her and ask her out to dinner? I've heard that works exceptionally well for humans.

That only happens in the movies, Nicholas answered, and she's smarter than that. She'll know we're up to something for sure. Besides, I don't think she'd like cheap cheeseburgers and fries. He chuckled ruefully, thinking of the small wad of cash he had left on his dresser. The euros hadn't been as forthcoming in exchange as he had been hoping. Anyway, I don't need to try and charm her-

No, I think you've already accomplished that, came the dry interruption.

--because I am simply going to have her log in to the computer where the IP traces have been coming through and then I'll stick in the flash drive Milo configured and bam, problem solved, world-ending disaster averted and then we can go back to Tibet and Su-Han can tell me what my father was working on and then I can go home. Easy.

Uh-huh.

After all this time, you still don't have any faith in me, Nicholas chided. I know how important this is. I won't mess it up. Trust me.

I do trust you, Nicholas. But it is still vital that we are cautious in our approach.

Cautious smatious. I could do this in my sleep. With one arm behind my back. Blindfolded.

You are also a tad on the arrogant side, Lorr observed.

Nicholas scoffed. "Right," he remarked, his attention drawn to the arcade room once again as a number of rambunctious hollers suddenly rose from the stillness and a massive crowd began to congregate around a certain game. "And what's going on over there?"

I think that is the sound of our mystery friend, Lorr guessed. It appears she managed to arrive before you.

Yes, I see that now. Thank you, Master Obvious.

He saw her now, the center of the cheering, smashing buttons on the console at a psychotic pace; effectively moving a small blue mouse-like creature away from a series of ridiculous red and pink cats. Mappy, he read. What in the world is this?

I believe it's called an 'arcade game.' It was quite a popular pastime in the 90's.

I know what an arcade game is, Lorr. I did live in the 90's, thank you.

Well, you asked.

It was rhetorical, man. Tell me you at least know what that means?

Of course, I do! Lorr squawked. I know what it means!

Uh-huh. Sure you do, bud.

Perhaps Milo was correct about us, the kwami chirruped. We are actually quite similar.

Milo is usually right about these kinds of things, Nicholas scoffed. Now, come on. Settle down back there. We have a date to keep.

Milo asks me to remind you to smooth your hair as it resembles, as he put it, 'the galaxy's largest rat nest'.

"Neat freak," Nicholas muttered under his breath, even as he ran his fingers through his light locks, combing his bangs from his eyes and trying to look a little more like the 'cool kids' the teenagers seemed so determined to become. He was very far from this, however, with his ripped jeans, graphic t-shirt (styled with vinyl spelling out some musical pun), Converse over ten years old, and a hairstyle to match. Well, nothing he could do about that now. He was already more than five minutes late. He didn't have time to go dig for something nicer to wear, besides it wasn't like she hadn't seen him in his everyday clothes before. They'd just had lab together three hours previously, goodness gracious. She hadn't completely left him high and dry then. She probably wouldn't now.

Well, he noted as he silently wandered up behind the crowd, stretching up onto his tiptoes to watch the screen, watching as the hit-points and the total score continued to increase. She appeared to be nearing level thirty, which must have been some kind of record by the number of people who had come to gawk. At least she found something to keep herself busy while we decided to be fashionably late.

It's appropriate to be tardy in your century? Lorr queried as he burrowed further into Nicholas's books, nestling between one particularly large text and his very fancy superhero lunchbox.

No, not really. It's just something people sometimes say to make up for the fact that they are really late.

Like we are right this moment?

Yes, Lorr, like we are. Now hush up, would you? I need to focus.

Yes, sir! Shutting up now, sir!

Ugh. You're too much, dude. Rolling his eyes, Nicholas paused to double-check the location of his pendant and then carefully began making his way through the onlookers, mumbling apologies for multiple stomped toes or arms bashed with fifty-pound backpacks. Several of the teens backed away, hissing and shooting him dark looks, but Nicholas didn't pay them any mind as he pushed his way to the foot of the game, leaning back against the Just Dance machine and folding his arms to watch her obliterate levels thirty and thirty-one.

It was level thirty-four before she eventually fell to the wraith of the evil pink kittens and the screen blacked out with the familiar flash of red and musical accompaniment that equaled the end of the simulation. Everyone groaned and slowly began to disperse, some patting the girl on the back as they went.

Nicholas lingered off to the side until the entirety of the crowd had dissipated, giving Kat time to collect her bag and tuck her remaining tokens into her pockets for later. She smiled upon seeing him there and shook her head slowly. "You made it."

"I said I'd be here," Nicholas reminded her. "I do keep my word, you know. I just got held up a little, that's all. You're...ah...you're pretty good at that thing." He nodded toward the game. "Been playing long?"

"Since I was little," she replied. "You?"

He shook his head. "Nah, this is more my beat." He rapped the Just Dance machine with his knuckles.

"Ah, too bad." She smirked. "I would have enjoyed wiping the floor with you." She hitched her bag and started across the room to a line of unused computers.

"Oh, so we're trash-talking now?" Nicholas laughed, moving to follow.

She grinned shyly, picking a seat and heaving her backpack onto the table beside her. "You were late. You are liable to receive all the trash-talking I want."

"I didn't agree to that," he teased, sitting down beside her and focusing on the blank screen as she began to type.

"Huh. Really? You didn't read the fine print on our contract?"

"We had a contract?" he exclaimed, pretending to be astounded.

She spluttered, breaking down in giggles and hiding her rapidly reddening face in her hands. Nicholas watched her, the unease in his heart loosening at her joyful snickers. She's laughing, he thought gleefully. She thinks I'm hilarious!

I think you're hilarious, Lorr sighed. Milo thinks you're hilarious. Neither of us are in love with you. Don't let it go to your head. You need to calm down. You're acting odd. Just get the information you need and then get out.

Wow, aren't we a little killjoy this afternoon? Who stuck a feather up your rear?

Just don't forget why we are here, Nicholas. No distractions. It's not safe for us and it's not fair to her. You aren't here to fall in love. You can't. Not like this.

"So, what are we looking for here?" he asked, trying to bring the topic back to the subject at hand, gesturing to the screen as Kat began to compose herself. The girl, in reply, drew a small notebook from her bag and slid it across to him.

A little black book, Nicholas noted with a touch of dry humor. He flipped it open, recognizing rough sketches of different parts of his costume, each labeled with explanations of various functions; the most notable being his tail-daggers.

Cape tail extends into a plume of throwing knives = easily accessible for a quick fight.

Hood + mask to hide identity. Hood=uncomfortable being seen. New? Or just uneasy?

A lightning sword (named Talonblade) appears when summoned. Through gloves? Further investigation is required.

The ink behind these words was older, as was the writing, possibly two or three years. But beside it, in bright green penning, were details she had added much more recently.

"Oriole" is a name chosen by the media. Our mysterious hero prefers "Griffon". Upon cross-examination, he is neither as confident as he appears nor as old, which has led me to search further into his disappearance from the French spotlight. It is unusual for even a vigilante to make only one appearance. More info needed. What is he doing in the United States and why did he show himself to me?

"He's in trouble," Kat explained when Nicholas raised a questioning eyebrow. "He's here for some reason, even if he didn't want to tell me why. Or, more likely, couldn't. I think someone's after him...and his, what did you call it? His miraculous? What is that?" She snatched her book back and quickly began to scribble that into the borderline.

"Uh...I'm not really sure," Nicholas lied. "I just...I remember those people yelling at him to give it to them. At the zoo. I think...maybe it has to do with his powers? Like a key or something?"

She paused, blinking up at him. "At the...you were at the zoo when it happened? Wait...you're French?"

Realizing his error, Nicholas quickly tried to backtrack. "Uh, yeah, I mean, it was a really long time ago, but...yeah?"

"Huh." She blinked again. "Okay, I was not expecting that. Definitely not the accent I heard there. But, seriously? You heard him mention the miraculous?"

"Yes?"

"And you think that's the source of his powers?"

"Well, a key to them possibly. It seemed important at least. He was in no hurry to give it up."

"Hmmm."

"'Hmmm'?" he repeated.

"Yes, 'hmmm'. That would actually make sense, what you're saying about the miraculous. When he confronted me, he seemed so sure I was plotting to steal it. I mean, I am plotting, but not to steal anything." She chuckled, but then noticed his confusion and sobered. "Sorry, bad writer's joke. Moving on now."

"So, you want to figure out why he's running?" Nicholas suggested. "Because you want to help, I take it?"

"He's scared," Kat agreed. "And I think he's alone. Whatever is out there, it's gotten him pretty rattled. I figured, if I--we--could figure out who is after him, we could help. Kind of like...the Alfred to his Batman."

Nicholas frowned. "You do realize how much danger Alfred was always in, knowing Bruce Wayne was secretly a vigilante? This isn't really safe."

"My safety isn't really my main concern," she pointed out.

"Well, maybe it should be," Nicholas reasoned. "What would Griffon think if you got hurt and it was trying to help him? Don't you think he'd be angrier that you put yourself in danger?"

"You don't know much about the superhero-ing business, do you, Ryan?"

Nicholas raised both eyebrows now. "And you do?"

"I've seen enough movies to know how it works," she replied with a shrug.

You also know what happens to the girls who get too nosey then? Nicholas sighed, already knowing he was going to lose this argument. "All right. So, how can I help?"

"Grab a computer and pull up a chair," Kat suggested. "I want to know everything about this guy. Maybe if we can figure out who he is, then we can figure out who might be after him. I'm going to search through the missing person's files and see if anyone sticks out."

"I'll go through the news reports," Nicholas offered. "Maybe they've found out more since that day." At the same time, he reached for his flash drive and inserted it into the next computer over, earning an odd look from the girl. "I figured we'd want some way to keep what we've found," he explained, catching her stare, "since it's pretty unlikely the school would appreciate us using their sources for this." Not to mention I could get a peek at who has been using these computers to send encrypted messages to known miraculous terrorists.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Good idea."

"I do occasionally have some of those," Nicholas snarked. See, Lorr? I have good ideas.

You also have a very big head, as the expression goes.

Thank you for that, Lorr. Very helpful.

Kat laughed and set to work. "Have fun over there, Robin."

"You as well, Catgirl," Nicholas shot back without thinking, already pulling up the backdoor to the computer's mainframe and scanning for the IP address. Rikard had given the correct series of numbers to search for. Thankfully, Lorr had recalled the order and was chirping them back to him as Kat continued to type away.

But the computer wasn't right so Nicholas carefully began to move down the line to the next one. Kat glanced up at him, noticing his actions, and he hastily thought up another excuse. "It crashed," he said quickly. "Poor internet. I'll try another one."

You do realize that poor connection would not affect only one computer? 

Yes, but I needed an excuse to look at the others. Now play along, would you?

Very well. As you wish, Master.

But the next computer wasn't right. Or the next one. Or the one after that.

In fact, none of the monitors in the room were the ones used by the thieves' contact.

But that can't be right! Nicholas exclaimed, double-checking the address a second time. And then a third. Rikard said it was coming from this building! It has to be here!

"You doing okay there, Ryan?" Kat called, standing up and starting toward him, frowning. "Did you find something? You look a little sick."

"No...I...uh...I don't..." Nicholas stammered, swallowing back nausea as he checked the address yet again. Lorr, please tell me I'm just missing the obvious. Go ahead and insult me. Say I'm blind or my contacts need replacing. Something. Please tell me you saw the IP somewhere.

I'm sorry, Master. I did not.

"Hey, you don't look so good," Kat commented, reaching him now. Hastily, he shut off the monitor and twisted to look up at her. "Maybe we should call it a day and pick this up some other time."

It's not there. 

It's gone.

Where is it?

"No, I'm...I'm fin--" Nicholas began weakly, but before he could finish, the doors to their right suddenly flew open and two furious flames of blue locked onto him. Nicholas squeaked and sunk further into his chair, face burning. "Oh no. Incoming."

"There you are!" Milo yelled, storming over, ignoring Kat completely, and crossing his arms at the taller boy. "What are you doing? I thought we had plans today, Ryan! Plans that involved studying! You know, with our study group? Right now? Back at our dorm? Ring any bells?"

"Wha...?" Nicholas began, staring up at the blond, jaw slacked. "Milo, what are you..." And then it clicked. The plan. "Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, shooting upright, grabbing his backpack and slinging it back over his shoulders. Lorr squawked in surprise but Nicholas didn't hear him, his face still sufficiently scarlet. "Y-yes, the...the study session. I....uh..." He whipped around to face Kat who was standing there, dazed and baffled. "This is Alex," he stumbled, grabbing a raging Milo's shoulders and spinning him around to face the brunette. "My...my best friend, roommate, and yeah, I think I need to go now."

"Hi," Kat whispered.

"Hello," Milo grumbled. "Ryan, get your things and come on. We're late." And with that, he turned and stomped off again, leaving the two standing there, one flabbergasted, the other sufficiently humiliated.

"Uh, right. Ah." He jumped over the chair and came to stand before her. "I'm sorry," he tried, "but I've got to go."

"Yeah," she replied. "I can tell." He had expected some kind of bitterness in her words and was extremely surprised when he detected none. She wasn't upset with him for ducking out? Well, she was definitely something else. "Go on," she chuckled, gesturing to the door. "Don't want to keep him waiting, do you?"

"Er, no. I guess...not. Uh, thanks for letting me tag along. It was really nice and--"

"He's leaving without you now."

"Kalimati!" Nicholas cursed, spinning on his heels and taking off after the model. "Dude, come on! Really?"

"I'll see you later, Nicholas!" 

"Yeah, see you!" he shouted over his shoulder, already halfway out the door, yelling for his friend who was already down the steps with no signs of easing his stiff gait. "Milo! Hey, Milo, man, wait up!"

But even as Nicholas continued to plead, the blond didn't stop.

He didn't even slow down.

Chapter Text

"You did it again! I cannot believe you did it again!" Milo spat, throwing open the door and storming into their dorm and toward the desks. Nicholas was close behind, having scarcely enough time to shut the door before the entire brunt of the model's fury was bearing down on him.

"Do you realize what you have done?! You have exposed our entire existence to some seventeen-year-old child whom you have decided to have a crush on!" Milo hissed, throwing his backpack across the room. It landed squarely on the bed and Trekk phased through the top, growling through his fangs. Milo ignored him, whipping around on his heels to confront the taller man. "I warned you how much danger you were going to put us all in, but just like always, you didn't listen to me! You didn't listen to me, Lahiffe!"

Nicholas winced at the intensity his last name was spat, almost as though it were dirt. Worthless. Stupid. "Now, hold on just a second!" he fired back, the anger simmering just below the surface. He swallowed back his temper and braced to meet his best friend's glare head-on. "I didn't tell her anything! She doesn't know who we are! Why are you getting so hostile about this? It was your idea to try and fit in in the first place!"

"You still don't get it, do you?" Milo snapped. "Even after all this time. You don't understand what is going on and yet you are willing to risk everything on some fantasy!"

"I know just as much as you do!" Nicholas countered. "We're here to find the lead to the miraculous thieves, stop them from finishing whatever evil plans they are plotting, and then we report back to Su-Han and I find out what my dad was working on that was so important he had to uproot his entire family and ship us off to a distant country! That's all."

"Is it?" the blond demanded, rushing forward to jab an accusing finger into Nicholas's chest. "Because ever since we got here, you've been so focused on getting her attention that you've barely spent any time on the mission. I don't think it's about your Ab at all! I think this is all about you!"

"What?" Nicholas recoiled as though he had been slapped. "Milo, what are you--"

"It's always been about you, hasn't it?" Milo sneered, stepping away, his hands balling into fists. "You used me to get away from your measly excuse of a life and you tricked me into joining the Guild just so you could get what you wanted!"

"Is that what you think this is...okay, you know what? Fine," Nicholas sat his backpack down, releasing Lorr who circled up beside his holder, clicking insults at the two males, disapproving of their stupid squabble. "You clearly have something you have been wanting to get off your chest ever since we got here. So, come on. Go ahead and let it out. Say whatever you need to make yourself feel better."

"You want to know what I'm thinking?" Milo laughed, sounding nearly hysteric now. "Well, that's certainly a new one! But fine! You want to know what I'm thinking? I'll tell you what I am thinking! You don't understand what I've sacrificed for you, Nicholas! How much I have given up for you! I left everything behind to come here with you! I had a name! I had power and fortune and influence! But I gave it all away because you asked me to! I thought it was the right thing to do! Because I thought that was what friends did! But you don't care about me...or the Guild...or anybody except yourself!"

"That's not true!" Nicholas protested.

"Isn't it?" Milo taunted. "Nicholas, for as long as I have known you, it has always been about you! You were the one who wanted to come to the Guild. You were the one Rikard chose to come on this mission. You are the one Su-Han has had his eye on since the very beginning! It has never once not been about you!"

"You think I wanted this?" Nicholas roared, balling his hands as well, the anger welling up now. Lorr rushed in front of him, flailing his wings and shaking his head agitatedly. But Nicholas didn't stop, advancing on the blond who reacted accordingly, "Milo, my father was killed for this life! I don't want any part of his secrets! I just wanted to understand why he did it! I didn't want to come to America! I didn't want to become some kind of spy. I didn't want to be a hero!"

"You are many things, Lahiffe," Milo spat. "But let me assure you now; you are very far from being a hero."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He pushed Lorr aside, ignoring the kwami's pleas to cease. "Come on, spit it out already, Astor! What has got you so distrustful all of a sudden?"

"You know exactly what I am talking about," came the dog-like snarl. "You have betrayed everyone who has ever cared about you. And I think you like it. You don't trust anyone and so you have no problem hurting anyone who tries to get too close to you! Well, I have a problem with it! So, what are you going to do now that you've gotten what you've wanted? Are you going to throw me aside just like you did everyone else? I won't let you use me too! And the girl? What are you going to do with her once you get what you want? Are you going to forget she ever existed as well?"

"Is that what this is about?" Nicholas exclaimed. "You're jealous because I'm finally finding other people with whom I can communicate? You're afraid Kat...or even Mel...is going to take your place, aren't you? You don't trust me enough to leave my side and let me do things on my own and I was stupid enough to think it was because you wanted to help me, but that was never the reason, was it?"

"I thought we were a team!" Milo bellowed, overlooking the blatant inquiry. "That everything we did, we did together! But then you went and stabbed me in the back! You went and gave away your secret identity to an absolute stranger! You led the miraculous thieves right to us and you didn't even bother to give me a heads-up or a 'Hey, I'm about to blow this entire operation and go rogue but don't worry about me because I'll be fine and careful and smart!'"

"I haven't led anyone to us!" Nicholas returned fire angrily. "Have you not been listening to anything I've said? Kat doesn't know I'm Griffon. No one knows I'm Griffon! There's no way the spy could have found us!"

"Oh, really?" Milo growled. Without another word, he twirled around and yanked his laptop from his bed, shoving it into the Moroccan's arms. "Well, what do you call this then, Nicholas?" 

Nicholas hesitated, eyes sweeping across the open screen, immediately recognizing a blurred image of his alter-ego on the rooftops from the night before, along with a series of coded messages. Beside them, in highlighted letters, were the words Milo had managed to decipher.  It was clear that "Griffon" had been spotted and identified by the wrong people. Grimm had been right all along. Someone had been following them and he'd allowed himself to be so blinded by pride that he hadn't even stopped to consider the consequences and someone had taken advantage of that to reveal his existence to the entire world.

But it was what he heard and saw next that sent the sinking iceberg plummeting into the pit of his stomach.

It happened almost all at once, the sensation of dread pooling into his veins like ice as his eyes fell on the small brand sticker at the top corner of the screen, and the screech of alarm from Lorr as the kwami made the connection at the same moment. It all blurred together into one massive ball of confusion and chaos and deceit and in an instant, every loose piece of the puzzle collided, clicking into place, filling in the gaps to the impossible tangle of lies now becoming so clear.

No. Nicholas choked. Oh, please, no! Lorr, p-please tell me it's not--

He couldn't even find the strength enough to finish his sentence and all at the same time, he knew it was.

The laptop.

This was Milo's computer. His personal laptop.

And the IP address was identical to the one they had spent this whole week searching for.

It had been right under his nose the entire time.

But if this is the same, then that would mean...

"It was...you?" Nicholas breathed. His gaze shot up from the screen to the still-looking-ready-to-murder-someone man before him. Suddenly, Nicholas actually began to fear for his life. He took a step back, his legs beginning to tremble as he reached for his pendant, clutching it close to his chest. "You are the thieves' contact! It's been you this whole time! But...but, I thought...I don't...I don't understand. Milo, why?"

The blond froze mid-insult and, immediately, his face contorted from one of a victim to one of disgust and loathing. The alteration was so quick that Nicholas barely had time to process the change before the bone-chilling chuckle began to echo throughout the room. Instantly, Lorr lunged for him, phasing through his shirt and into his backpack.

"Oh, Nicholas," Milo jeered, every trace of empathy sucked from his tone. "I truly cannot believe that it took you this long to piece it all together." Sounding maniacal, the older boy advanced toward the hero, now absentmindedly fidgeting with the buckle on his gloves. He was no longer looking at Nicholas but the man still found himself tensing in anticipation anyway. "Oh, well, it was a good run while it lasted. How did you figure it out?" 

He made no move to attack. The words were on Nicholas's tongue but he could not bring himself to utter them. Not yet. He needed more. He needed answers. "You forgot to take off the sticker," he whispered, his voice shattering as the spear through his heart took hold. He stepped back again, feeling his spine up against the door. "I just...Milo, I thought we were friends! I thought you were trying to help me keep these miraculouses safe! Why would you betray the Guild like this?"

"I didn't betray the Guild!" Milo roared, the fire reignited inside of him. Trekk sped out from somewhere behind him and Lorr tensed, already chittering warnings to his holder. "I betrayed you! You and your perfect idealisms of what a hero is supposed to be! Your cut black and white life! Well, now what do you think of me, Nicholas?" He spread his arms and stepped back, leering wickedly. "Not so easy to tell who's the hero when you are face-to-face, is it?"

"I think you're a lousy holder," Nicholas seethed, "and an even worse teammate! Was any of it ever real? That whole thing about wanting to be my friend and wanting to change the world? Or did you just play me this whole time?"

"I did play you," Milo answered loftily. "And you performed your part perfectly. Kudos for being literally the dumbest human being in the universe. You made this way too easy. All I had to do was pretend to be as hopelessly lonely as you and you fell right into my trap. And yes, I am sorry I had to drag you along on this crazy goose chase, but I had a feeling that if I didn't, you would start to get suspicious. I had to do something. So I did."

"You staged that attack in Tibet!" Nicholas realized, "to lure us away from the rest of the Guild! And you tricked Rikard into sending us here by redirecting your IP address through the public wifi in the library!"

Milo smiled. "Now you're catching on. Go on. How'd I do it?"

"You lied to me," Nicholas complied, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. His knees continue to knock but he refused to let them hold him back. "You said you'd never been to this college before! But you must have at least once to be able to reroute such a powerful signal!"

Milo raised an eyebrow. "You just learned that I have been lying to you for the past five years and that I work for the greatest organization in the world bent on stealing miraculouses and using them for terroristic events and you're more concerned that I lied to you about where I went to college?"

"I already figured out the rest of it," Nicholas growled. "So, that day, when you saved me from the explosion...?"

"Staged," Milo interrupted smugly. "Every bit of it. I'd been watching you for a long time, Nicholas. I knew exactly how and when to strike. You needed a savior. You needed me to give you a reason to accept a miraculous because there was no way you would have done it otherwise. You were very adamant that you wanted nothing to do with this life, remember?"

"People were getting hurt!" Nicholas cried. "I couldn't stand by and just watch that happen! First that little girl and then my ab and..." He trailed off, the final piece of the puzzle clicking into place. "You didn't. Milo, tell me you didn't!"

"Collateral damage," was the empty retort he received. "I do apologize for your father's misfortune, Lahiffe. I had never intended for him to be on that flight. I had only wanted to eliminate my own personal grudges. I had no way of knowing how twisted our fates would become by doing this."

"No, so instead, you endangered and possibly injured hundreds of innocent people?" Nicholas spat. 

"It was the only way!" Milo snapped. "I wanted to get your attention! I needed you to take the miraculous and figure out how to activate it! Lorr wouldn't show himself to me. I needed someone with a purer heart, someone who wasn't already riddled with the things that fill my head. And you were the perfect unsuspecting partner-in-crime."

"So you convinced Lorr to appear to me, which in turn forced me to activate the miraculous, just so you could steal it back later?"

"Hmmm...well...yeah, actually that's pretty accurate. Perhaps you do have a brain up there somewhere after all. Listen, Nicholas," Milo sounded tired now. Tired and just plain bored, "you're a good guy. I'll grant you that. And I admit, I didn't want it to come to this. I may have started out intending to simply force you to activate the miraculous, but then I got to know you. You showed me what kind of life I could have had if things had been different. So, I'm going to ask you this only once. As your friend. Give the miraculous to me and I'll let you walk away. You can go home and you'll never have to think about the Guild. You can go back to your mother and your brothers. Watch them grow up and forget I ever existed. You wouldn't be the first one."

"Forget it!" Nicholas hollered. "I wouldn't give him up to Kila before and I am certainly not about to give him to you! If you want my miraculous, you're going to have to kill me."

Master! Lorr screeched. What are you doing?

I don't care what he says, Lorr, Nicholas answered furiously. I've already let down too many people who've cared about me. I'm not leaving you behind too.

Milo blinked. He frowned and for a moment, Nicholas swore he saw disappointment flash through his eyes, but the sentiment was replaced almost as quickly with cold venom. "Very well, Griffon. If that's the way you want to do it, I accept your challenge."

Lorr, get ready! Nicholas hissed, pushing himself off from the wall and lunging for the half-open window. 

I'm ready if you are, Nicholas! the hippogriff retorted, zooming up to his face and circling back to face Milo and Trekk as Nicholas landed awkwardly near his desk and twirled on his heels to face his roommate. The words were already there and this time, he wasted no time summoning the kwami's powers.

"Lorr, Wings Unfur--"

"TREKK, FLAMES IGNITE!" Milo screamed and Nicholas barely had time to brace himself to take the brunt of the impact before he felt the fire envelop him and the pain blister across his skin, dissolving amongst numerous daggers of broken glass and stakes of splintered planks.

The next thing he knew, he was keeling backward off a five-story balcony, the ground was rushing up to meet his body, and the sky was falling to pieces all around him.

Chapter Text

Ahhhhhhh!"

The scream erupted from his lungs before he even knew what was happening, before his feet ever left the ledge, and long before he found himself plummeting to the earth with enough momentum to be an asteroid. The sky and the land flipped-flopped and the wind tore across his face and arms, seizing his hood and throwing it over his eyes. He flailed his limbs, trying desperately to find some way to right himself and correct his tumble, but found no relief as his descent continued. Lorr hollered something into the nerves of his brain but it was overshadowed by the tremendous blast of fire and flames that rushed out the now-exposed window above his head. Below, people screamed and fled at the first signs of danger and a group of school-aged students all bolted for cover.

And everything was spinning.

Oh, kalimati, everything was spinning.

If Nicholas hadn't been about to become a permanent splatter against the earth's surface, he might have considered throwing up what was left of the mediocre sandwich he'd shoveled in for lunch. The one he'd skipped out on with Milo to meet Kat instead. Somehow, that didn't make things any better now.

He was still falling.

He was still going to be completely, totally, unquestionably dead.

His vision honed in on the pavement rushing toward him and he prepared himself, knowing there was no way, superpowers or no, he was going to walk away from this one.

Brace for impact! Lorr screamed and Nicholas threw his arms over his face, a second scream and his heart already leaping into his throat.

He was just feet away from death now.

It was all over. Milo was going to get everything he wanted and the Guild would never know what hit them. The world would be destroyed by those lacking honesty and loyalty and there would be absolutely nothing he could do about it.

And Nino would be one of the ones who would suffer because of his failure.

Nino, Chris, their mother; whatever happened to them, it was all going to be his fault. He hadn't protected them. He hadn't kept his promise after all.

Tears pooled his eyes as he closed them tightly and prayed that it would be over quickly, that Lorr would at least be spared. Maybe he would somehow be able to escape Milo's evil plans and find another holder, one who could do what Nicholas could not; who could be the hero he hadn't been, who had access to more money and more wealth and more pancakes, who understood and appreciated the kwami's bottomless pit of a stomach and his odd inability to understand humor or jokes or sugar.

He prayed the hippogriff would forgive him for being such a lousy holder, for being too prideful and self-centered and thick-headed to see what was right in front of him when he'd had it.

He prayed that whoever Lorr would find would know that he had tried. That he had tried so hard, and that he was sorry for everything that was about to happen and--

"WILD SPORT!"

A bellow split the underlying shrieks of mass terror and panic and a shockwave suddenly erupted from somewhere underneath his freefall. It rushed upward to meet him head-on and he was suddenly enveloped in an unusual blanket of warmth. A soft wind drifted up and danced around him, ripping at his cloak and his arms and his head, acting as a buffer and rapidly slowing his descent.

He hit the ground at a greatly reduced speed, landing feet first on the pavement. His knees buckled and he rolled out the rest of his momentum across the grass and gravel. Eventually, he came to a stop and he allowed his body to remain in place while he gagged and heaved and clung desperately to his lunch as it retched the back of his throat. Stunned and winded, he flipped himself over and pushed himself onto all fours, wheezing.

A roar of fury echoed from somewhere overhead, undoubtedly Milo honing in to his dragon side, and hurried footsteps filled his brain as thick boots stomped down near his head and two gloved hands took his arms, tugging him upwards and on to his feet.

"Nicholas Lahiffe, I'm guessing? Nice show you're putting on here, but I think it's time we got you out of dodge."