Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A helicopter swamped the area of the top of this building as a fight was happening between two well known vigilantes Woods and Solitary and the most notorious villain in the city Scarlet. The camera zooms in on Solitary as he is knocked back and is hanging on to the ledge for dear life.

“Some help here!?” Jimmy calls hanging on to the edge of the building  over the sounds of fighting. 

“Just hold on” he can hear Martyn call back, audibly struggling against a villain known as Scarlet who was the former hero number one hero.

Jim rolls his eyes “haha very funny, what did you think I was going to do let go and fall to my death?” His voice dripped uncharacteristic sasaram. Just as he said that his hand started to slip, he was falling. He could see the building in front of him zoom by and the ground coming up faster. He was falling, he wasn't going to make it, but then he wasn't falling, he was lifted up from behind him. He saw the ground getting farther away as he was lifted and was then placed back on the top of the building and then in front of him landed Xelqua; he had giant wings, at the base was black and faded to a purple to white, he had a white mask on with the simple of a rectangle but two of the connors were dots. He was tall and had some blond hair peeking out from the hood of his cloak. This was unusual for the top Hero for his wings were normally very colorful and he was not ever this tall. He was 5’ 6’’ now he was at least 7 feet tall and towered over everyone there.

“Hey, Solidarity, Woods,” He nods towards the latter. “Want some help here?” he said his mouth peaking out from under his mask and a smile creeped on his face but no this was not his normal friendly cheeky smile this smile was dark, unhinged and uncharacteristic for him, it was almost sickening and sent shivers down the backs of both the vigilantes and the villain as he knocked his bow with an arrow, pulling it back as he turn towards the villain and pointed it at Scarlet. A camera zooms in on this as Xelqua lets the arrow fly and it plunges into Scarlet's heart. 

Pearl shot up in bed rubbing her eyes, she was fine and safe in her room and not fighting her family. Well she wasn’t blood related to Martyn and didn’t necessarily consider him family but Grian and Jimmy were her family, even if Jimmy was just a baby when she had been taken, and Jimmy didn’t know her all that well and his only memories of her were broken ones from that damned experiment the research branch of the Watchers hero company. That her brother had joined as well with Jimmy and Martyn and others and later her once she heard the atrocities that were happening and she left the Creative Hero committee and snuck into the experiment. 

She shook her head to get the image of her little brother killing her out of her head, this had been a recurring dream, no not a dream more like a nightmare. She slipped out of bed and walked to the kitchen she shared with her friend Gem. Gem was kind but could be unhinged at times, she was peacefully sleeping in her room on the other side of their shared flat. Pearl went into the kitchen and grabbed the tea bag she had used before going to bed earlier that night. She glanced at the clock, it read 2:54 AM, and then grabbed a mug and walked over to the keurig and used it to get some hot water. As it filled she threw out the used tea bag and grabbed a new tea bag that would help her sleep. She sighed as she put the tea bag in the mug and sat on the couch and turned the TV on to some cartoon and turned down the volume as she sipped her tea.

Chapter Text

In a world of gods, dragons, other dimensions, hybrids, and people with powers ranging from divine to nonexistent, conflict was inevitable. Wars, discrimination, even genocides—whether against the powerful or the powerless—had scarred history again and again. Humanity never handled power gracefully.

But in this new era, things have changed, at least on the surface. Laws now stood against discrimination—whether someone had powers, none at all, or was a hybrid. That didn’t mean prejudice had disappeared, only that it wasn’t quite as rampant. Still, it wasn’t the government’s biggest concern.

The real problem came from people with power growing corrupt, especially those with god complexes. Resistance formed, but because the powerful controlled the narrative, those rebels were branded as villains. In response, hero companies rose to prominence. Some were small, others vast, but the most influential were the Creative Hero Committee, the Watchers Committee, and the Hermit Committee. Others had risen and fallen, but these remained dominant.

And of course, there were always vigilantes—the ones who didn’t fit neatly into “hero” or “villain” but still chose to fight in their own way.

There are two ways a person becomes a hero, first way is as a child they were found to have a powerful power and recruited and trained and appeared years later as heroes, or people who have powers but were not recruited but still wanna help they can apply at a hero committee and become a side kick and some become standing heroes on their own eventually. 

Pearl had been eight when she was taken—or “recruited,” as the adults insisted. But to her younger brother Grian, who was six at the time, it didn’t look like an opportunity. It looked like a loss. He remembered clutching her hand, remembered her crying as she was dragged away, remembered his own helpless tears. From that day on, he thought of it only as being taken. 

What fragments he still remembered of her were small: that she was kind, sweet, but could turn sharp when pushed. Beyond that, the memories blurred.

After Pearl’s disappearance, Grian was left with his baby brother Jimmy, only two years old then. But even that fragile thread of family was broken. Jimmy was sent to foster care, where he was eventually adopted, while Grian bounced through the system. most families just didn’t know what to do with his energy and all the pranks he pulled and not to mention his power combined with that he was a hybrid.

Even though Grian bounced around when he was younger and had a hatred for the hero committees because they took his sister. When he was in high school he was put in a group home and was there for all of high school. Grian had some friends at his school, but his high school years were rough and lost most of his friends because of the disaster. He was then at the age of eighteen taken in to witness protection by the Watchers committee. It was more that Grian was stuck in the building that the Watchers committee had, he spent a lot of his time in the research branch and learned a lot.  

Now, at twenty-three, Grian barely remembered his sister, barely remembered high school. What he did remember—too vividly—was the experiment. He and a few others went back in time. 

Maybe.

The experiment was called Evolution EVO for short. He and others had been dropped into simulated worlds, each one moving forward in time, each one testing whether history would repeat itself. The details blurred, but the scars lingered.

He remembered being pulled out before the others, subjected to tests, pushed to hone his powers. He remembered glimpses of his friends inside the simulation, but only because he had been forced to watch them after his removal.

He does know that he reconnected with his little brother and met others, He remembers being pulled out before the others were and he sorta remembers the watchers doing some tests on him and he was forced to learn a lot of things and better control his power. 

When EVO finally ended, the group fractured. Most went their separate ways, but Grian stuck close to Jimmy, and Martyn remained with them—his parents had adopted Jimmy, after all. Even now, they still received payments from the Watchers, compensation for their “participation.” But almost no one from EVO remembered much of what had happened. Grian knew why.

Because he did remember. He had seen what the Watchers made them forget.

2 months after the experiment

“Grian! Are you there?” a twenty year old Grian startled as Jimmy was trying to get his attention as he was getting lost in his thoughts. The parrot hybrid shook his head and looked at his brother, with a blank expression that snapped out of it.

“Sorry Tim- was up?’’ Grian smiled seeing Jimmy rolling his eyes at the nickname that came out of EVO and one thing really stuck with him.

“You have therapy… Are you feeling alright?” He asks his yellow feathers ruffling some, as he approached Grian with a worried look, “You looked like you were somewhere else”

Grian forces a smile, though it was a weak attempt, “Oh yeah right, forgot about that,” he says still sounding distant, he stands up getting off the couch and walking towards the door, Jimmy giving him a look, “I’m fine Jimmy, don’t give me that look” Grian crouches down to put his shoes on, Jimmy giving him an incredulous look. 

“If you say so,” follow Grian to the door. “Come on we're gonna be late” 

Chapter Text

“Alright Alright” Grian grumbled put his hands in his red hoody as he was being pushed out of the house by yellow canary that also happened to be his younger brother that worried way too much over him. Grian and Jimmy had been separated when he was just a toddler and they both would be damned if they let themselves lose each other again after they reconnected even if it was through some experiment and they were both missing a good chunk of memories from the experiment and before that. 

Anyways Jimmy was trying to get Grian to a therapy appointment which he was not really happy to be going to but reluctantly went to because of Jimmy's insistence after he had been pulled out early from the experiment and in Jimmy’s words been “tormented” by the Watchers and had been forced to watch his friends in the experiment and though they can’t remember he can.

Grian was different after that, more distant, jumpy even, he wasn't as loud and perky as he used to be,which Jimmy used as reason and evidence that he had been torched. They left the house and walked to the car. They had to drive to the therapy session, Grian climbed into the passenger seat with a distant look in his eyes as if he was thinking of another time. Grian sat as the shell of a man next to him. It had only been 2 months since the experiment had ended and this had been his second therapy session, with Xisuma. A therapist Jimmy found through a friend of Martin. 

The two sat in silence, the only sound was the radio. Grian was staring out the window, and breaking the silence, “do you remember her?” Jimmy glances at Grian but keeps his eyes on the road. He was 17 and didn’t really know how to deal with his broken brother sometimes and was just unsure what to say much of the time and he leaned on his adopted brother Martyn a lot to help him. At this moment he didn’t know what to say he was confused.

“Who is her? I have known a lot of hers in my time and a lot of them I don’t remember much of cause of well ya know.” 

Grian looked at his serious eyes “Pearl. Our sister.”

Jimmy thought about it he was two when they had been separated and only recognized Grian cause he had reached out to him many times as he grew up but his sister never had and he never really wondered why just figured she didn’t want to, Grian almost never brought her up. He vaguely remembers their being someone named Pearl in EVO but not much of her. “Uh no I mean I was two when the three of us were separated, I think there was someone named Pearl in that experiment”

Grian just nodded and didn't say anything for the car ride, just humming to the music sometimes. Jimmy pulled up on the side of the road in a standing zone in front of a tall building, where Grian had his therapy sessions. Grian mindlessly unbuckled, “Thanks Tim, I call you when I’m done.” 

Grian floodily gets out of the car, closing the car door with a slam.

For a moment Jimmy wasn't in his car, no he was back at Evo, on a floating island in the void. Beneath his shoes was the rough ground of the End, and in front of him was a dragon in the middle of 10 black towers made of a hardstone.

Jimmy felt the fear he had the moment he realized that all his friends were not there and he would have to fight the dragon by himself.

Then he was back in the car Grian was just about to enter the building and the automatic doors opened for his brother and he disappeared in the building.

Jimmy shakes off the fragment of the memory already forgetting it as he re-enters traffic.

Chapter Text

The office was in the Hermit Hero committee's basement, apparently the man who made the agency was also a therapist and continued to do therapy for his heroes that worked for him and sometimes other heroes. Grian was a special case, Martin’s friend was apparently a hero at that agency and had talked to Xisuma the man who ran the agency and therapist and he was reluctant at first but subsided when he heard a bit of Grian’s story and when he first met with Grian he didn’t regret the decision at all. 

Grian walks in through the automatic doors, walking through the lobby, he feels hyper sensitive, the fabric on his jeans is digging into his hips. As he walks past some people nod or wave kindly. His wings shift under his sweatshirt anxiously. 

Grian walked to the stairs in the basement of the building and into knocked on the door softly, “Come in” Xisuma voice came through, and Grian pushed the door open slowly, the sight of Xisuma at his desk, his signature green combat gear on and his mask that helped him breath with the purple glass over his eyes. The purple reminded Grian of the Watchers, but Xisuma was so different from them. 

“Hi Xsuma” Grian closed the door and sat in the chair across from him. Grian fidgeted with his fingers. Xisuma smiled warmly at Grian, he put away whatever paper work he had been working on to give Grian his full attention. 

“Nice to see you again, how have you been” 

“Fine I suppose” Grian shrugs answers noncommittally.

“Alright shall we pick up where we left off?” Grian nods, he had a distant look in his eyes, “So last time we talked about your high school experience,” Xisuma says professionally, Grian winces ever so slightly at the mention of his time at high school. Xisuma keeps going, “is there anything else from that period or before that you would like to talk about? Or would you like to start somewhere else?”

Grian hesitated for a moment “Uh well, I” he stuttered as he looked down fidgeting with his hands “I guess, um okay, well after high school… Sam was arrested and sent to a mental institution and Taurtis he and I separated for a bit, I, uh got taken into a.. Well they said it was a wittens protection but it was really more. I was just cooped up at the Watchers committee institution.” Grian trails off, looking up at Xisuma as he takes a note of that but he generally looks interested in what Grian had to say nodding along.”

“Okay do you wanna talk about what happened there?” Grian looked uncomfortable shaking his head no, “thats fine, so you and Taurtis, you said you guys were close friends in high school yes” Grian nods, “and things has happened between you and Sam that he forced you to be him?” Grian shutters at the memory but nods, “sorry, so after all that, you and Taurtis just went your own ways? Have you seen him sense?”

Grian nods, seeming to think about this for a moment “yeah I did, he.. He joined the experiment for a little, but one day he just was gone, no trace of him” Grian says guardedly, looking away from Xsuma.

Xisuma didn’t speak right away. He let the silence stretch—not awkwardly, but patiently—giving Grian space to breathe, to choose his next words instead of forcing them. Waiting to see if he would elaborate on what he said. It’s just silence. Xisuma finally breaks the silence, his voice soft but steady, a grounding presence in the room.

“Do you think about him often? Taurtis.”

Grian’s shoulders tighten. His fingers curl into the sleeves of his sweatshirt, knuckles whitening, his wings starting to feel sophisticated under the fabric. He doesn't answer right away, but the tension says more than words could. “Yeah,” Grian pauses, “I guess in some messed up way I blame myself for it,”

Xisuma gives him an almost pitying look, “why is that?” He asks, kindly, curious non-judgmentally. 

Grian exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. His voice, when it came, was quiet—barely audible beneath the soft hum of the air vents in the office.

“Because I should’ve noticed. I should’ve known something was wrong.”

He leaned back in the chair, still wringing his fingers together like he was trying to squeeze the guilt out of them. “He was... off. He never said anything outright, but he looked—tired. Lost. Like I was looking at someone trying to hang on with broken fingers. And I was too caught up in having fun.. Pulling pranks, building, to have even noticed”

Xisuma didn’t respond right away. He reached over to his desk and gently clicked his pen closed, signaling—not with words, but with action—that this wasn’t about note-taking anymore, that he was not going mark that down, but instead he was just listening.

Grian takes in a shaky breath exhaling it slowly. 

“The last time I saw him, he seemed off shaken, he had asked me to show him to the ‘update’ portal,” Grian laughs bitterly at the memory “He said the riddle was to hard so he just ask me instead” Grian pauses and looks away, “but when the time came for us all to go through the update portal he wasn't there and we.. we couldn't wait any longer and we had to leave him” 

Xisuma remained quiet processing what Grian had told him, “you blame yourself?” Grian nods, “did you try to find him?” Xisuma asks not prying but more as a blank statement. 

Grian nods, “yeah we looked for him everywhere but we could think of but we couldn’t find him anywhere, eventually we just had to leave, we were running out of time.” Grian says sounding ashamed. 

Xisuma leaned back in his chair studying Grian’s face before speaking, “so you did everything you could. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you mean run out of time?”

Grian signed “The people running the experiment would give us hints on how to find these ‘update’ portals and we had to find them to like travel in time to a new era but once we found them slowly things would start to well glitch and not work and collapse in on its self, cause it was all basically all code writing we were basically in a computer world.” 

The room is silent for a moment, before Xisuma speaks again, “I see, so what would happen if someone didn't go through?” 

Grian remains silent, hugging himself and looking away, “can we talk about something else”

Xisuma nods “of course, is there anything you wanna talk about?”

Grian sat hunched in the chair, fingers plucking at invisible threads on his sleeve, as though pulling the seams apart could keep him from unraveling. Xisuma didn’t rush him—didn’t press. The silence was heavy but not suffocating. It was a blanket, not a cage.

Xisuma doesn't rush him just lets him, he doesn't fill it right away. He leaned back in his chair, fingers resting loosely together, posture calm but attentive. His voice, when it came, was like water over stone.

“Alright. Something else. Tell me what’s on your mind right now.”

“That I don’t wanna be here,” Grian muttered, half under his breath, but loud enough to be heard. His lips twitched, a bitter half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Xisuma actually chuckled—just once, low in his throat. He shook his head, almost amused with himself. “Sorry I should not laugh, I just was not expecting you to be so blunt. What you said was honest and real, and that's what I asked for.” 

Grian blinked at him, caught off guard by the lack of offense. His shoulders eased a fraction, though his hands never stilled.

“Can you tell me,” Xisuma continued gently, “why don't you want to be here?”

Grian sighs, and looks at Xisuma for a moment “Listin X, your great guy, and I do appreciate what your doing for me, but the simple fact of the matter is,” Grian looks away, inhaled, jaw tightening, “talking about isn't going to make it any better you know?”

Xisuma leans forward in his chair, letting Grian’s words hang in the room like smoke, bitter and raw. Xisuma tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You’re right,” he said, surprisingly quickly. “Talking won’t erase what’s happened. It won’t change the experiment. It won’t bring back the time you’ve lost. But… Do you think carrying it in silence is making it better either?”

Grian sighs, “it's better than talking about it and reliving it,” he says somberling “they took two years of my life X! I was stuck roaming those halls for months not able to leave because I was in ‘witness protection’ even though he had been locked up and sent far away. Then I spent half a year in that stupid blasted experiment and then-” He cut himself off breathing hard. “I’m done. Thanks for trying to help or whatever but I think I’m fine.” 

Grian walks out of the room before Xisuma can say anything. Quickly Xisuma still processing what Grian said he hops over his desk to chase after Grian. What he was going to say, he didn’t know yet. 

“Grian! Wait!” Xisuma yells down the hall as Grian is leaving to go up the stairs. 

Grian froze halfway up the stairwell, hand on the railing. His feathers twitched under his hoodie, ruffled like a cornered bird. He didn’t turn around.

“Don’t,” he said sharply. His voice echoed off the concrete walls. “Don’t chase me. I am not some vase that can be fixed. I am not some dying flower to pity. I said that I am done talking!” 

The words hung between them, sharp enough to cut. Xisuma stopped at the base of the stairs. He didn’t move closer, didn’t push—just stood there in the dim light of the hallway, his mask catching the faint glow.

“Alright,” Xisuma said finally. His tone wasn’t commanding, wasn’t angry. It was quiet, almost too quiet. “I’ll stop chasing.”

Grian shifted, his grip on the railing tightening, knuckles bone-white. He expected an argument. He expected guilt, pity, or worse—silence heavy with disappointment. But instead, Xisuma’s voice carried up the stairwell, calm and steady, like a tether thrown out to a drowning man.

Xisuma keeps talking, slowly, careful not to spook him further. His boots echoed steady on the floor, not rushing but deliberate. “I just need you to know that I'm not here to fix you,” he said calmly. “I’m here because you came. That’s it. You walked into my office. You knocked on the door. That tells me you wanted something. Maybe not healing. Maybe not answers. But something.”

Grian’s jaw clenched. His grip on the railing whitened. “I came because Jimmy wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Grian’s voice was sharp, deflecting, but underneath it was the crack of strain. He gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Maybe,” Xisuma allowed. He didn’t push, didn’t argue the point. “But you still walked in. You didn’t have to but you still did. That took guts, and that also tells me that you care for him and that maybe deep down you really do wanna talk about it”

That silence again. Not heavy. Not suffocating. Just there. A living thing between them, waiting for which way it would tilt.

Grian finally moved, one foot taking the next step upward. His hoodie shadowed his face, feathers brushing against the concrete wall as if he could disappear into it. “I do care about Jimmy and I told him I’d give this a shot, I did. It’s not going to help.”

Xisuma doesn't follow he lets him go, “my door is always open Grian”

Grian just keeps walking up the stairs.

Xisuma watches as he leaves and turns back to go into his office.

Chapter Text

Grian rushed up the stairwell two steps at a time, his lungs tight, the echo of his own footsteps bouncing off the walls. When he pushed through the final door into the lobby, he dropped his gaze immediately, unwilling to meet the curious stares of anyone inside. The marble floor gleamed under the overhead lights, but he barely registered it. He just kept moving, head bowed, shoulders hunched, as though he could make himself invisible if he tried hard enough.

The front doors slid open, and sunlight struck him like a spotlight. He squinted, raising a hand against the sudden glare as he stepped outside. For a moment he just stood there, the world buzzing around him. The Hermit Hero Committee building towered behind him, pristine and imposing, but all he could focus on was the chaos of the street—horns blaring, voices overlapping, cars weaving through traffic. His eyes darted, searching the road for Jimmy’s car. Nothing.

He sighs, he should have known better it was too early, his session with Xisuma should still be happening, he pulled his phone out, noting the time to be 12:30, he unlocked it with muscle memory and scrolled straight into messages. Jimmy’s name hovered at the top of the screen. He stared at it for what felt like forever, thumb hovering but never moving. The crowd jostled him from both sides, shoulders bumping him, muttered curses passing by. He snapped out of it, shoved the phone back into his pocket, and let his feet take over. 

Where he was walking was unknown, he was just walking trying to clear his head, The autumn air was sharp against his skin, wind tugging at his hoodie. He pulled the hood up, the drawstrings tight against his jaw, but the chill still managed to worm its way through, carrying with it the ghosts of memory he’d been trying to outrun. His breath came ragged. He shuddered, eyes unfocused, and let his legs carry him wherever they wanted.

Grian’s steps were unhurried but restless, the kind of pace of someone who wasn’t going anywhere but also couldn’t stand still. The rhythm of his own feet was the only thing grounding him as the sound of the city hummed around him—people chattering and sounds of traffic all faded to the background.  

He focused on the way his feet hit the pavement, he didn’t notice how long he’d been walking. He didn’t notice the phone buzzing again and again in his pocket, Jimmy’s name lighting the screen, Martyn’s right after. He didn’t notice the ache starting to creep into his legs. What he did notice—only when he stopped to catch his breath—was the bridge beneath his feet and the river flowing quietly beneath it. He blinked, suddenly aware, and realized where he’d ended up: the Watchers district.

Seeing as the city was sectioned into different districts each having their own major hero company, some had one big hero company and smaller branches acting as there own company but in the end still a part of the major hero’s company this normally only happens in the bigger district though. Even though there were multiple companies they were all under the control of the biggest district and hero company. The Watchers committee. Grian had walked through at least 3 different districts to get here without even realizing.

A cold shiver ran through him, one that had nothing to do with the weather, causing him to come out of his mind, he felt like he was being watched. His chest tightened, his wings shifted under his sweatshirt. The sleek glass buildings loomed over him like silent judges, reflecting the cold afternoon sun. Something in the corner of his vision made him stop. A glint—a familiar shade of violet in the mirrored glass. It was gone when he blinked, but the unease lingered. The breeze carried something else: a hum, low and rhythmic, like static on a dead channel.

The wind picked up, carrying a sound too faint to be natural: a low, steady hum, like static trapped between frequencies. It made the hair on his arms rise. His heartbeat climbed, pounding louder than the traffic, louder than the air itself. His heart lurched into a quicker rhythm. His breathing followed, shallow and uneven. He fumbled for his phone, eyes locking on the glowing numbers: 5:30 PM. Hours had passed in a blink. His stomach dropped, his eyes continued down his phone to see it had been blown up with texts and calls from Jimmy and Martyn. He opens the messages and scrolls through them, he stops to look, not being able to shake the feeling of being watched. 

He scrolled with shaking fingers, but the prickling at the back of his neck wouldn’t let him focus. He couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes boring into him, unseen and patient. He looked back down just in time to watch the battery icon flash red and vanish. Dead

Panic twisted through him. The street was nearly empty now, though a few passersby lingered. Even though they seemed to give him a wide berth, their gazes skimmed past him like he wasn’t really there—or worse, like they knew something he didn’t.

Beneath his hoodie, his wings shifted restlessly, feathers brushing against fabric, ready to unfurl even though he stayed rooted to the spot. His ears caught a sound. A footstep. Not rushed. Not accidental. Deliberate. It echoed from a narrow alley just ahead, too crisp to be coincidence.His pulse thundered. He forced his legs to keep moving, though every nerve in him screamed to bolt. The deeper into the district he went, the heavier the weight of unseen eyes became. Every shadow stretched too far. Every movement at the edge of his vision made him flinch.

Then—he froze.

The unmistakable rush of wings cut through the air behind him. A landing. Heavy, controlled, close enough that the ground trembled faintly beneath his feet.

And Grian realized, slowly, that he wasn’t alone anymore.

Jimmy had been crashing out, his yellow wings puffed wide as he paced back and forth across his living room. His feathers twitched with every turn, brushing against the walls in his frustration. His phone sat on the coffee table, vibrating over and over, but every time he snatched it up the screen said the same thing: no answer.

“AH!” Jimmy finally screamed, the sound tearing out of him raw. Martyn startled, looking up from his own phone where he had been firing off messages, trying to reach anyone who might have seen Grian. Jimmy’s hands went to his hair, tugging until his scalp hurt. His chest heaved, words spilling out before he could stop them. “How could Xisuma just let him walk out? He’s supposed to be helping him, not letting him storm off and disappear!”

Martyn put his phone down and stood, stepping into Jimmy’s path. He caught him by the shoulders, firm but not harsh, wings folding tight against his back.

“Tim. I need you to take a deep breath, okay?”

Jimmy’s chest rose and fell too fast, wings trembling, feathers shedding to the floor like pale-yellow sparks of frustration. He couldn’t stand still—every second without an answer, without a clue, made the walls feel like they were closing in.

Martyn’s grip on his shoulders was steady, grounding. “Good,” he said quietly. “I understand your agitation. I’m worried too. But blaming other people—or yourself—won’t help Grian. Not right now.”

Jimmy swallowed hard, throat tight. “But he could be anywhere, Martyn. He just—he walked out. He walked out and now he won’t pick up and I don’t know where he’s gone. What if something happened?” His voice cracked, fear bleeding through. “What if he needs me and I’m not there?” 

Martyn has a sympathetic look in his eyes, he takes a breath unsure of what to say, but when he finally speaks, his voice is steady.

“Then we find him.” 

Jimmy blinked, searching Martyn’s face, but the words didn’t feel like enough. “How?” His voice cracked. “We’ve called everyone, checked everywhere—he’s just gone.” His wings sagged, feathers drooping like the fight was bleeding out of him.

Martyn squeezed his shoulders tighter, grounding him before that spiral could swallow him whole. “Listen. Grian’s smart. Stubborn, sure, but smart. If he left, he had a reason. He’ll keep himself alive long enough for us to reach him.”

This only seemed to panic Jimmy “You think he is in a dangerous situation that would cause him to have to stay alive?” 

Martyn sighed, chuckling slightly at his adopted brother. He was always one to over-think things, “No Jimmy, but we don’t know where he is. But what I am saying is he will be fine. Look it’s late, why don’t we get some sleep and continue looking tomorrow” 

Jimmy considered it, but his wings twitched again, restless as his eyes darted to the phone lying useless on the table. He shook his head. “I can’t just go to sleep knowing he’s out there somewhere. What if he needs me now?”

Martyn exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. His patience held, but the weight in his eyes showed his own worry pressing down. “I know what you mean, but it is almost midnight. And running ourselves into the ground tonight won’t help him. If he comes back, he’ll need us sharp—not half-dead from exhaustion.”

Jimmy’s jaw clenched. His feathers ruffled and settled, his body caught between fight and surrender. He wanted to argue, to scream, to tear through the city with his wings until he spotted Grian’s face in the crowd. But the rational part of him—the part Martyn was holding onto—knew the truth. He couldn’t fly blind forever.

“Fine,” Jimmy muttered, though his voice carried no conviction. “I’ll try.” He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. His wings folded tight against his back, trembling with the effort to stay still.

Jimmy finally broke eye contact, his gaze flicking toward the hallway that led to his room. His shoulders sagged, wings drooping low, their edges brushing the doorframe as he turned away. He moved slowly, like each step was weighed down by the worry still gnawing at him. The floor creaked under his tired footsteps, the sound oddly loud in the quiet apartment.

Martyn watched him go, his chest tightening at the slump in Jimmy’s posture. He wanted to say something—one last word of comfort, a promise—but nothing seemed strong enough to close the distance Jimmy was retreating into. So he let him go, listening until the faint sound of a bedroom door shutting carried down the hall.

The apartment fell still. The kind of stillness that pressed on the ears, heavy and unwelcome. Martyn exhaled, dragging a hand down his face before turning back to the living room.

The couch was already half-cleared, pillows and blankets piled messily to one side. He pulled the blanket free and gave it a shake, the soft fabric settling over the cushions with practiced ease. It wasn’t much of a bed, but it would have to do. He smoothed out the corners, the motion steady, almost mechanical—anything to keep his hands busy while his mind churned.

When he finally sank down onto the couch, the springs creaked under his weight. He leaned back, wings shifting uncomfortably against the cushions, and stared up at the ceiling. The faint glow of the city leaked in through the blinds, painting the room in pale stripes of light and shadow.

Martyn listened to the quiet, hoping Jimmy had managed to find rest. But as he pulled the blanket over himself, one thought lingered, sharp and restless: sleep might come, but peace wouldn’t. Not until Grian walked back through that door.

Chapter Text

As Jimmy walked down the hall away from Martyn, the weight in his chest refused to ease. His bare feet scuffed softly against the wood floor, the sound too loud in the silence that pressed around him. Every step felt like it was dragging him deeper into his own head, where thoughts spiraled faster than he could catch them. Grian’s face kept flashing in his mind—his hunched shoulders, the way his eyes never seemed to meet anyone else’s anymore, the hollow sound in his voice.

Jimmy paused at his bedroom door, hand resting on the knob, wings twitching against the frame. He wanted to turn back, to shake Martyn till he agreed to keep searching, but the exhaustion clawing at his body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he pushed the door open with care, easing it shut behind him until the latch clicked softly into place.

The room was dim, bathed in the faint glow of city lights filtering through the blinds. He flipped the light switch and light exploded from the overhead fan. His dresser loomed against the far wall, and Jimmy crossed to it slowly, dragging open the bottom drawer. The wood gave a tired groan. He pulled out a folded set of pajamas, setting them neatly on the bed as if that small act of order could quiet the chaos clawing through his chest.

He padded into the bathroom connected to his room and twisted the shower knob. Water sputtered, then smoothed into a steady stream, steam curling up into the air. He stepped under the lukewarm spray, tilting his head back until his hair plastered to his scalp. His hands pressed into his face, then slid up through his damp curls. A shuddering sigh broke loose from him, his shoulders sagging as the water rushed down his back.

The tight knot in his chest didn’t unravel. If anything, it pulled tighter. He wanted to cry, to scream until his throat was sore, to do something that would break the tension building inside. But the walls were thin, and Martyn was only a few doors down in the living room. Jimmy clenched his jaw and swallowed it all back down.

When the heat began to fade, he turned off the water and wrapped himself in a towel, rubbing at his yellow damp wings until the feathers stopped dripping. The cool air bit at his skin as he padded back into the bedroom, pulling on his pajamas with slow, practiced motions. The fabric clung damply at first, then settled, leaving him with only the steady thump of his own heartbeat for company.

Back in the bathroom, he reached for his toothbrush, moving through the routine on autopilot. Foam clung to his lips as he leaned over the sink, his reflection staring back at him from the spotted mirror. His tired eyes, the faint sag in his wings, the stress etched into every line of his face—he barely recognized himself.

Then he froze.

Behind him, the mirror showed more than just a tired young man.

A figure lingered in the reflection, tall and imposing. Its form was cloaked in draping fabric that trailed to the floor, flowing like a ceremonial robe or some strange nightgown. The fabric shifted as though stirred by a breeze Jimmy couldn’t feel. No face, no features—just presence.

His breath hitched. He spun around, heart pounding. The bathroom was empty. Only steam clung to the corners, curling against the tiled walls.

Slowly, Jimmy turned back to the mirror.

The figure was gone.

Just him, standing alone in his bathroom.

His heart was racing and he wasn't sure what to do. 

He hesitantly brushed his teeth quickly. Before rushing into his room, he began to pause, unable to get his heart to slow from its rapid beat. 

His mind raced, unsure what it was. The figure was both familiar and not at the same time.

Jimmy lingered by his bed, his pulse still hammering, wings tucked tight against his back. He couldn’t shake the image. That figure in the mirror—tall, faceless, cloaked in something that moved when the air hadn’t stirred. It shouldn’t have felt familiar, but it had. Too much so.

He sat down heavily on the mattress, fingers digging into the blanket as if he could ground himself in the fabric. “It wasn’t real,” he muttered under his breath. “It couldn’t have been.” His own voice sounded strange in the stillness, unconvincing even to himself.

But if it wasn’t real, then what did that mean? Was his brain finally cracking under all the stress? Or was it something else—something he’d seen before, buried in the fog of memories the Watchers had tampered with?

The thought unsettled him more than the figure itself. Not knowing. Not remembering.

And once his mind opened that door, it was impossible to shut it again.

He knew there was no way he was falling asleep tonight. 

His mind was racing with fears of what that thing was,and where his brother could be. 

He stood up unable to remain still and began passing back and forth. He was thinking over his last conversation with Grian, he remembers the conflict and seriousness of his tone when Grian mentioned their sister.

Jimmy was never too keen on finding her, he guessed it was just because he never really had a relationship and she had never reached out to either him or Grian, maybe she couldn't or just didn’t want to.

Jimmy’s pacing slowed as his thoughts tripped over themselves, circling back to that one name: Pearl.

He stopped dead in the middle of the room, the boards creaking under his bare feet. Pearl.

If Grian had stormed out of therapy and brought her up in the car earlier, then maybe… maybe it wasn’t random. Maybe he was chasing something, some lead he hadn’t told Jimmy about.

Jimmy moved to grab his phone from the nightstand out of habit, only to remember it was still sitting on the living room table after Martyn had taken it. He cursed under his breath, shoving both hands into his hair. His wings twitched sharply, feathers puffing with agitation. He couldn’t sit still anymore, not with his chest this tight and the image of that faceless figure still burned into his skull.

He had to do something, he knew Martyn said he should get some sleep and that he would be better and more well rested but Jimmy couldn’t sleep not after what he saw in the bathroom and not after having a possible lead. 

He snatched a hoodie off the back of his chair and threw it on over his pajamas, tugging the hood up though his damp feathers made the fabric bulge awkwardly. His sneakers scraped against the floor as he yanked them on without untying the laces. He glanced toward the hallway where Martyn slept on the couch. For a moment, Jimmy hesitated.

He could wake him. He could confess about the mirror, about the thing he thought he saw, about the gnawing suspicion clawing at his stomach that Grian had gone after Pearl. Martyn was steady, rational, grounding. But Martyn would talk him out of leaving. He’d tell Jimmy to wait until morning, to rest, to plan. Martyn had always been a voice of reason when Jimmy got like this,

Jimmy’s heart hammered. He didn’t want to wait.

So instead of waking him, Jimmy crept to the window. He slid it open with painstaking slowness, the faint squeak of the frame sounding deafening in the silence. The cool night air rushed in, brushing his face and wings. He crouched on the sill, wings unfurling to catch the dim glow of city light.

One last glance at the couch confirmed Martyn was still asleep, turned away, blanket rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Sorry, Martyn,” Jimmy whispered, barely audible.

Then he jumped.

His wings snapped wide, catching the night air in a rush of feathers. The city stretched out below him, lights twinkling like constellations fallen to earth. The wind cut sharp against his face, but he barely noticed. He angled his wings and banked hard, climbing higher, scanning the maze of streets and rooftops.

If Grian was out there, if Pearl was connected, if the figure in the mirror meant anything—Jimmy wasn’t going to find answers lying in bed.

He gritted his teeth against the cold and pushed himself faster into the night.

Jimmy had been out flying all night, not anywhere in particular just looking searching–for what he didn’t know just flying. 

But it had been hours and his adrenalin was slowing down and his wings were getting tired as the sun peaked up over the horizon he started to fly to his home district.

The morning light cut sharp across the skyline, staining the windows of high-rises in molten gold. Jimmy’s wings dragged against the air, every beat heavier than the last. Muscles burned down his back, feathers clumped where the night’s damp chill had frozen dew into his plumage. He pushed on anyway, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the rooftops and alleys below.

Every flicker of movement made his chest tighten—was it Grian? A blur of wings, a hooded figure, someone slipping into shadow. But always, when Jimmy blinked, it was gone. Just pigeons, just steam vents, just the long stretch of a city waking up.

His thoughts spiraled back to the mirror. That tall figure with its faceless cloak, the familiarity of it gnawed at him like a stone in his stomach. He couldn’t tell if the memory was his, or if it had been placed there—one more fractured shard of whatever the Watchers had broken in him.

The rising sun forced his eyes to squint, vision swimming. He banked hard and dropped lower, finally surrendering to his body’s demand for rest. His wings shuddered as he landed clumsily on the gravel rooftop of a squat office building in his district. His knees nearly buckled on impact. He stood doubled over, panting, sweat dampening the edges of his curls.

The city stretched below, already alive with movement—buses growling down streets, vendors opening metal shutters, children with backpacks weaving through crowds. It should have grounded him. Instead, he felt detached, like the rhythm of the world was marching on without him.

Jimmy dragged a hand down his face, feathers twitching weakly. “Get it together,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “You’re not helping him like this.”

He landed at the front steps of his home, he tried the door finding it locked. Reaching in his pockets for his keys and realizing he forgot them in his rush of needing to get out he rang the doorbell feeling bad for waking Martyn.

The buzzer echoed faintly inside. Jimmy shifted from foot to foot, wings dragging low, every part of him heavy. He rubbed at his face, trying to hold himself upright, trying not to sway where he stood. The door finally creaked open.

Martyn stood there, hair sticking up in every direction, his shirt twisted from sleep. He blinked blearily at Jimmy, one hand braced against the frame. His eyes narrowed the second they adjusted to the dawn light. 

“Jimmy” He blocks the door with his body, “what the hell are you doing? What happened to you going to bed?”

Jimmy laughed nervously. “I uh was ganna” 

“Mhm? And then you decide to go out and look for Grian?” Martyn said tiredly still waking up.

Jimmy had the smarts enough to look at least a little ashamed. “Uh yeah..” he contemplated telling him about the mirror but decided to wait until Martyn hadn’t just been woken up.

Martyn let Jimmy in and watched him take off his shows and drag his feet to the couch.

As soon as Jimmy sat down, his body gave up the fight. His eyes fluttered closed, wings drooping around him like a blanket. The cushions seemed to swallow him whole, the hum of exhaustion pulling him under.

But cold water shocked him upright. He gasped, feathers flaring, heart pounding as droplets clung to his hair and lashes.

“The hell—?!” His voice cracked with sleep and panic.

Martyn stood over him, an empty glass still dripping in his hand. His jaw was tight, eyes darker than sleep alone could explain. “You don’t get to pass out until you tell me what made you climb out that damn window in the middle of the night.”

Jimmy wiped water from his face, blinking up at him. The weight in Martyn’s stare pinned him harder than the fatigue ever could. There was no amusement in it, no gentleness—just raw, coiled frustration laced with worry.

“You think I didn’t hear the window? You think I don’t notice when you vanish?” Martyn’s voice was low, sharp, carrying the kind of anger that came from fear. He set the glass down with a hard clink on the table. “Talk, Jimmy. Now.”

Jimmy’s throat tightened. The excuse he’d rehearsed—something about flying, about needing air—felt thin and fragile under that gaze. His wings twitched nervously against the couch, scattering a few damp feathers to the floor.

Martyn gave him a look, “cut the bullshit, I know you dude. You look shaken up, what happened?” 

Jimmy swallowed hard, the words tangling in his throat. His hands twisted in his lap, feathers shifting uneasily against the couch cushions. For a long moment, he didn’t meet Martyn’s eyes. He couldn’t.

“I saw something,” he muttered finally, his voice thin. “In the bathroom. In the mirror.”

Martyn’s brows pinched. “Something, like—what? Yourself? A shadow?”

“No.” Jimmy shook his head quickly, curls sticking damp against his forehead. His voice cracked under the strain. “It was… tall. Cloaked. Faceless. It—” He hesitated, trying to force the image into words. “It felt like it knew me. Like I should’ve known it too.”

Martyn stayed quiet, which somehow made it worse. He just watched Jimmy, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I spun around, and nothing was there,” Jimmy pressed on, chest tightening. “But in the mirror—clear as day. And then gone. I swear, Martyn, I wasn’t imagining it. It wasn’t just… stress. It was real.” His voice cracked on the last word, desperation leaking through.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Martyn let out a long breath and dragged a hand down his face. “Shit, Jimmy.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Jimmy added quickly, words tumbling over each other. “But I couldn’t just sit there. My head wouldn’t stop running. And then I kept thinking about Grian. About Pearl. What if he’s chasing something tied to her? What if that—thing—was connected too?”

Martyn sat down heavily in the armchair opposite him, elbows braced on his knees. His stare softened, but only just. “You saw a figure in the mirror and your first thought was to run out into the city in your pajamas?”

Jimmy bit the bottom of his lip nervously, “sorta but not really, I was really stressed and didn’t know what to do. Then I started to think about the last conversation I had with Grian and he mentioned something about Pearl so I thought maybe he went looking for her an-”

Martyn cut Jimmy off by placing his hand on Jimmy's knee, “I need you to breathe. Calm down okay. I’m not mad I get it. You said he mentioned Pearl? She joined halfway through the experiment right”

Jimmy shuddered at the mention of the experiment, he couldn’t remember a lot but knew a lot of it was not great. “I think it is the same person, he didn’t say either way if she was or not”

“Okay.. well she is our best next lead. I am going to call the police. It has been long enough for them to say he is officially missing, then look into her okay? You need to go get some sleep”