Archive of Our Own ^beta

The world around me begins to fall away as I take in the darkness behind my eyelids. The floor beneath my feet begins to falter and fade as I let my focus shift, and the melody fills the empty space left in its wake. I’m alone in the world with this sound as it begins to expand and surround me, there is nothing else but this, and it’s a lot like floating on air, about as close as it gets without actually falling. As the beat gets louder, I see the beginnings of memory forming before me, pictures just within my grasp, my emotions flare longingly as they reach out, and I’m overwhelmed by a sense of contentment. I feel the rhythm reverberating through my body, I revel in the energy as the beat pulses through my ears. I don’t know whether I’m falling through time or taking a journey, but either way, it feels nice. The lyrics whisper to me and carry my mind elsewhere, I let the images form, I let them take me places.

I’ve heard this song a thousand times before, and if I live long enough to hear it a thousand times more, I’ll consider that an accomplishment and time well spent. Every time I hear it play, I’m filled with with an overwhelming sense of purpose, a sense of readiness, the stale energy from my sore muscles renews and travels back through my veins. With the way the week has been shaping up, I needed a moment like this. I needed a moment to recharge.

The minutes feel long, pleasantly so for a change, but all things end eventually, and the best music knows better than to overstay its welcome. As the melody fades out, the instrumentation trailing along behind it, a short space of silence is left between one song and the next. In that time, the world begins to take form once more. The flat stone wall that holds my weight feels more like a cushion, a cushion for a back that’s way too young to be this sore. The gentle pressure and support only emphasizes the next breath that rushes into my lungs, the chill of of the cold air only making the warm exhale that much more satisfying. Unfortunately, none of this does my eyes any good, and opening them even a sliver causes them to ignite all over again. I already washed them out with water when I returned to our Garage, I suppose that’s the most I can do. As much as I love music, it isn’t a cure for chemical burning. If I ever have a reunion with the cop who managed to grab my shades and spray my face, we’ll see how much he likes it when there’s paint in his corneas.

As the first notes of the next song start, I let the darkness take over once more, the sting melting away as my eyes fall closed. I release the softest sigh of relief as my shoulders slacken against the bricks, I reposition my feet slightly as to keep my skates from developing minds of their own and carrying me off somewhere while I rest. They’d do it, too. Seems like the soul of the street is always calling out to them in some way or another. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? There’s always so much to do out there. So much to keep track of and too much to worry about. This constant looking over my shoulder is bad for my neck. My gut begins to churn, and I bite it back. Now isn’t the time for this type of thinking. First time in a while that I’ve been able to say that to myself, too. I feel the slightest smile cross my face, and as the tempo begins to pick up, I lose myself to it once more. Everything is okay, I insist silently, and I force myself to sit, to get comfortable where I am. It’s alright to let go of everything, if only for a little while. All of my concerns will be waiting for me when I return, right? So for now, nothing has to be wrong. There’s nothing wrong. For five minutes, at least, let there be nothing wrong, that’s all I ask...

I don’t know how much time has passed when eventually I hear it - a distant sound, a distant voice. It seems to be calling for my attention, but its words have no beginning, no middle, no end. They slur into existence for a single shout and fade out just as quickly. It could’ve been saying anything. Unfortunately, though, it was still too loud to be imaginary, and plausible deniability isn’t always polite. I’m the only person here right now, those words couldn’t have been for anybody else. Withholding a sigh of resignation, I fumble my headphones off. After the unmitigated disaster that was my entire morning, I’m not sure I’m up for a conversation right about now, but the streets don’t wait for anybody. I’ve been out here for a long time, so I should know that much by now. I search for a handhold on the wall behind me, and while I don’t find much, a small notch at least does the trick. Almost the instant I’m on my own two feet, everything returns in an unpleasant flood. The weight of the world crashes onto my shoulders, my limbs groan in protest. My legs ache from hours and hours worth of constant movement compiled with very few breaks and little to no sleep, my left knee falters from a hard hit it took only an hour before, and my ankle feels as though it may’ve twisted slightly when I fell in that same impact. A hollow nausea makes me realize that I haven’t eaten in about thirty six hours, and I really could use some water. My throat feels like someone took sandpaper to it. Just wonderful.

Winters are always hard out on the street, but this one’s been a lot worse than I’ve ever seen. The snow has made it colder than ever before, and while a few of us have apartments to return to, many of us don’t, myself included, and we’ve been struggling just to get by. I do my best to support everyone, as a leader, it’s what I’m supposed to do, but it’s been getting to be a lot to handle. The police have been entirely relentless in their pursuits this season, too, it’s as though they’re waiting for us on every corner, and it’ll only be a matter of time before we have to hold them up at our own Garage. I do not look forward to that day. Even barring them, there have been the other gangs, all of whom who seem to need another lesson in leaving us alone. I’m not sure what it is with Poison Jam and their recent obsession with taking Dogenzaka Hill in particular, but I’d appreciate it if they cut the crap and stayed out of our way. At the very least, it’s nice knowing that when the sun sets for the day, they get to return to the sewers where they belong. It’s almost symbolic. All the city’s shit collects in one place without fail every evening. Truly beautiful.

Finally, as my hands find my headphones and my headphones find my shoulders, I manage to pry my eyes open, keeping them downcast for my own sake. The fire in them forces me to squint, but slowly I’m able to adjust, blinking and wincing until they can at least handle the light. I’m still watching the ground, so I recognize Yoyo’s skates before I see his face, and I watch as he slows to a stop maybe three paces away from where I stand. As our youngest member growing fast, it’s hard for me to believe he’s sixteen already. Where did the time go? Nothing in his expression or body language screams of an impending threat, which, when I think about it, is actually remarkably rare. He and Garam are practically notorious by now for leaving artistic destruction and furious police officers behind them everywhere they go, so I find it more surprising that he isn’t in a state of panic. There’s no guarantee that stage doesn’t come later, so maybe all I have to do is wait. Not that I don’t understand his tendency towards causing the cops trouble - he doesn’t owe anything to a system that tried to have him killed in a bomb blast. If anything, I’m glad he still has his rebellious streak in him after that. I just wish he’d tone it down sometimes.

I adjust my shades, hoping to hide my bloodshot eyes. They weren’t looking so good before they got pepper spray in them, I doubt they’re looking any better now. I don’t want him to worry. “Hey, little man. What’s up?” At least I don’t sound like I swallowed a bag of sand, though it certainly feels that way. I find myself wondering if that would be better or worse for my health. Does sand have any nutritional value? Probably not. Should that be as much of a relief as it is?

“Not much of anything,” he says, and he gives me a grin that’s more contagious than I would’ve thought, given my mood; I feel as though we’re able to meet somewhere in the middle of our usual attitudes, and it’s a good sign. Really, I’m glad to see he’s still capable of being easygoing from time to time. I’m not sure I could handle him at his most energetic right now. “Surprised to see you sitting down for once, Beat.”

I withhold a wry laugh, afraid that I might give myself away if I try. I didn’t think anybody else had noticed, quite frankly, but it only goes to show. I’ve always been of the opinion that Yoyo is more observant than he gets credit for. It was true when he joined the gang two years ago, and it still holds true now. It’s hard to say how intently he may be watching from behind those shades of his, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was onto something. As impressed as I am, I don’t really wanna talk about it. I do what I can to brush it off. “Yeah, well, figured I’d get in some practice, just in case I needed to sit down in the future.” I take a long stretch and frown a little as my leg twinges again, demanding stillness once more. “Not my best idea, if I was hoping to get anything done today.” And unfortunately, it feels as though there is still so much to do. There are tags to reinforce, borders to maintain, asses to save, backs to watch out for. Not only do I owe it to everyone, but I owe it to myself, as well. It’s never a good idea to get complacent around here. Things can change all too quickly, and if we’re forced from our territory, I won’t have anywhere else to go. It’s a constant nightmare of mine, and it gets exhausting. I wonder if it’s a fear we all share. We never talk about it, but then, we don’t really talk about our feelings out here. We’re gangsters.

Unaware of my concern, Yoyo gives a casual, sympathetic smirk. “Doesn’t hurt to take it easy every once in a while, yo.”

Maybe, but I don’t have time. “Yeah, well, I’ve had about enough of it for one day.” I don’t think I was resting for long, but already I miss the peace that came with it. I may not have time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need it. The less time I have, the more I realize how much I do need it, the more I’m forced to acknowledge it may never exist, and I’m really starting to feel it in both body and spirit. Still, I have an appearance to keep up, so I push off the wall, my injured knee crying out as I do. I keep that off my face. “How are things looking out there?”

“Everything seems alright so far. No sign of Poison Jam, either,” he says, and the words are a pleasant song all on their own. “Mew mentioned catching one of ‘em earlier in the day, but she chased him off before he did anything.”

Mew, huh? “Chased him off or eloped with him?” I ask. Mew’s a character, that’s for sure - she’s the only person I’ve ever heard call Poison Jam ‘cute’. Given that they’re ugly, smelly brutes that live down in the waste disposal system, I’m not entirely sure what she’s thinking, or what’s really ever going on in that head of hers. It takes all sorts, I suppose. I guess she wasn’t wrong about Cube…? She was their leader, she was kinda cute, I guess. I mean, I know how to give credit where it’s due, but Cube’s with us now, so…yeah. I’ve got nothing.

“Elo-...? D-Don’t say stuff like that,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than anything.

I try not to laugh. “Jealous, are we?” I think Yoyo’s had a thing for that spacey chick since she joined us. She’s not my type, but I guess I can see it.

“Hey, not cool, yo!” I’d have to be blind not to see the flare of anger, even behind his shades, and this time, I do laugh. It may be because the kid’s four years my junior, but I do enjoy messing with him every now and again. Now that he’s older, he knows how to return the favor, so I don’t even have to feel bad.

I consider dragging this game on right now, he seems to sort of expect it, but ultimately, it doesn’t feel like the right time. I can’t muster up the energy I need for it, so I end up giving the whole line of thought a dismissive shrug. As I do, I give my ankle a light kick and roll my wheels, making sure that the pain is manageable. It seems to be.  “Seriously, Poison Jam’s not worth the energy it takes to be jealous of ‘em.” Testing my leg, I skate forward, giving his shoulder a quick clap as I go by. He turns to watch me, and I wonder if my movement’s tentative nature is as obvious as it feels. I quickly stop to keep him from having to follow, and while my ankle jerks a little, it manages to cooperate, if only by a thin margin. “Besides, Mew would get bored with Poison Jam real quick. She likes to stay where things stay interesting, and I think we have a pretty good time around here, y’know?” He seems comforted for only a moment, but then his gaze drops, he falls silent. When it stretches for a little too long, I find myself tilting my head. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but considering what we’re talking about, it seems like a weird topic for him to latch onto. Does he really think she’s going to run off somewhere? I was only kidding. “Really, man, don’t work yourself up over it.” He leaves me hanging for another minute or two, rolling his own wheels experimentally as he runs his dilemma over in his head, whatever it may be. Am I missing something? I find myself frowning. “Are you seriously worried about her, Yoyo?

He must’ve lost himself in thought, because when he hears his name, his head suddenly snaps up, and he feigns a smile that looks all sorts of uncomfortable. “Oh. Well, no. I wasn’t worrying about her.” Oh really? When I continue to stare, when I finally trace his gaze to where it seems to linger on my skates, he quietly murmurs, “I was actually worrying about you.”

I wasn’t expecting to hear this today, or ever, and my eyes narrow in confusion. The stinging sensation around their rims remind me of the incident earlier today with the cops. Did he hear about it, did he see it, is there something about the way my clothes are marked? A glance down at my jeans tells me that they’re scuffed, but no more than they usually are. Is this about my ankle? Did he see that fragment of movement? Catching me sitting couldn’t have upset him like this, could it? Do I have to be careful about where I sit in the future? I’d really rather keep simple things simple around here, if I can. I shake my head, hoping to play it off while pushing my unease aside. “About me? C’mon, little man, I’m doing everything I can around here. You telling me it isn’t enough? Not cool.”

I was hoping he might backtrack, but to my surprise, his voice only rises as he shouts, “I’m not talkin’ about what you’re doing for us!” I nearly flinch, it snaps out so suddenly. It isn’t like him to get angry, and I find myself trying to somehow see through that masked glare and into his thoughts. I’m no mind reader, but I know sadness when I see it. Even with his eyes covered, he isn’t a very difficult kid to read, but I’m not sure I see him this troubled very often. His fists clench at his sides and he says, “I’m talkin’ about what you’re doing for you, yo.” He chooses somewhere else to look as he continues.  “I’ve been keeping an eye out. Winter sucks, it always sucks, and this one sucks more than usual. You’ve been lookin’ out for us, sure, but what about you? We need you around here…”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that...But what about me…? What’s bringing this on?” He sounds so serious, I can’t help but think that this has been on his mind for a while...but what ‘this’ is is still a little sketchy. I’m doing what I can for myself, and it’s not like him at all to think much about things. He has a one track mind, I never saw him as the sort to worry much about others, and there’s no way he grew into it that quickly. I’m only half kidding when I say, “Just to clarify, we don’t need to worry about another one of you running around, do we? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Do you think I’m kidding?!” His cry is so frustrated, I find myself stunned silent. “Don’t play it off like a joke, man! I’m worried!”

Worried...? I’m not entirely sure what there is to worry about, what he thinks I’m supposed to be seeing, but I don’t wish to upset him any further. I didn’t realize he was upset to start with. I wind up keeping my mouth shut, and as the silence stretches, I find that maybe clamming up isn’t the right move either. What am I supposed to do, then? “Sorry, man, but I’m not sure I see where you’re coming from.” He grimaces, biting his lip and staring at the ground. I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know what I’m expecting, more anger, an insult, an apology, the finger. What does he want me to do? What else can I do?

After a frustratingly long time, he finally mutters very softly: “We’re not blind. I’m not blind, man. Do you think we haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You can barely stand.”

I flinch, and I know he sees that. Is that what this is about? He must’ve seen that fraction of movement after all. I felt as though I had this under wraps, at least to the point where no one would make note of it. There’s no denying that I’ve certainly been in better shape, but I wasn’t aware it had hit some sort of threshold where people could tell. “Is it that obvious?” I felt like I was doing okay at barely getting by. Nobody has said anything up until now.

After a moment of thought, he slowly shakes his head. “No, it’s not. But we’ve all been around for long enough to know.”

“All of you, huh…?” Well, that’s not exactly encouraging.

“Yeah. All of us. This ain’t you, man, you’ve been so exhausted lately…”

I don’t know what else to tell him. I’m not about to lie to his face, because why would I? I’ve never been this run down in my entire life, my knee still twinges, and I’ve been struggling to get myself up off the garage couch when I get the chance to use it. Even the floor has been comfortable, which is good, because I’m a permanent resident there. It’ll all pass, though. If I give it a few more months, things’ll start looking up, and it’ll all pass. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I give him a shake of my head before forcing a look that hopefully seems reassuring. “It’s been a rough season.” That’s all I can say. I can’t make any promises. I can’t slow down, not yet. We’re not even halfway there.

“No kidding.” There’s a solemn pause that lasts only seconds before he suddenly perks up in demeanor, and I receive very little warning before his arm suddenly latches around mine. He drags me forward slightly, and I only barely manage to keep my balance as he turns to beam at me. “It’s gonna be rough for a little longer, so at the very least, we need to stay healthy. Let’s go get you some lunch, okay? My treat!”

I have so many of questions, and no energy to spare for any of them. His treat, huh? I really don’t have the strength for a rebuttal, lunch sounds fucking fantastic right now, so I relent. “Sure, how much did you steal?” Yoyo doesn’t have a day job, and the money came from somewhere.

Pleased with himself, he says, “I didn’t steal anything! I asked Combo if he had a few bucks to spare.” As our eldest member, Combo probably has the most stable life out of all of us. Somehow, though, I never thought to go to him for money. Probably because I’m not a fan of handouts.

Still, the fact that Yoyo actually had the balls to ask him for cash amuses me to no end. “The big guy gave you an allowance? That’s cute.”

He releases my arm and slaps it hard. “Quit it, yo! He didn’t agree until I told him it was for you.”

...Oh.

Is he serious about that? He doesn’t seem to be joking, and I’m not actually sure what to do with that information. Everybody really can tell, huh? A part of me is frustrated that they’re all this concerned for my health, I feel as though I’ve failed at something, but at the same time, I’m touched that they’d go so far for my sake. If I’m constantly looking out for them, it would only make sense for them to return the favor in times like these, right? I guess Yoyo wins this one, and his satisfied smirk tells me that he knows it. I’ll get back at him somehow some other time, but for now, I find myself wondering, “Do you think Combo would kill us if we celebrated Father’s Day for him?” Seriously, he’s a better dad than my dad was.

The kid practically snorts with uncontrollable laughter. “Oh, God, who’s our mother? Gum?!”

Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about that. I cover my mouth and pretend that I’m not struggling to keep my composure. “I guess, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the thought.” I’m not entirely sure I appreciate the thought. Thanks, Yoyo.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t!”

Sounds like a deal.

The two of us make our way through the streets, keeping our eyes peeled for police and making idle banter along the way. Every time I find myself looking around, thinking, compiling a to-do list for my next trip out here, Yoyo drags me into a conversation about something or another, and I realize eventually that he’s watching me, trying to keep me in the present for at least a few minutes at a time. I appreciate that.

We do eventually reach a small restaurant, we do sit down and eat. I never thank him properly for going out of his way, but I’d like to think that he knows how much it means to me as the two of us split for the afternoon.

~*~*~

It all comes to a head the following week on 99th street.

There’s something seriously wrong with my leg that morning. I’m no doctor, but I don’t think I need to be, I’m pretty sure I can safely make my own judgement call on a knee that buckles the moment I stand. I’m lucky that no one else is there to see it, really. It’s been giving me a hard time since the day it collided with the pavement, but it seemed to be getting better. I’m not sure why I thought it might be, though, I haven’t exactly been taking it easy. As it turns out, there’s no time to start, either. The morning is fraught with tension, complaint, and concern, as Corn returns to the Garage having nearly been jumped in an alley. Not uncommon, necessarily, but we do try to look out for our own, and his recount indicates that he may’ve been targeted specifically for being one of us. It isn’t a big deal, given that he’s alright, but it means we need to be more careful from now on. I don’t order anybody to travel in groups, we’re not five and we can make these choices on our own, but I do imply that numbers may be the safer bet for a little while, and the next time he departs, hoping to scope out the police rounds for the day, he brings Piranha with him.

I spend a lot of the day going over tags. They don’t really need to be looked over, Poison Jam hasn’t been spotted in a little while, but it at least provides the illusion of productivity. It’d be a lot better for my well being if I sat on one of our couches and rested for the day, but everyone would notice if I did that, and I’d rather that they didn’t. Besides, it’d get boring after a while. I can’t stand having nothing to do.

Over the course of the morning, however, the pain goes from bad to borderline unbearable. I have a pain tolerance that I’d consider above average, I’ve taken some pretty hard falls before, I’ve been shot at and assaulted, I’ve slept in some pretty shitty spots and I’ve been knocked around constantly during races, so I thought I was used to everything I could go through. I was wrong. I am not used to this. With passing time, I’m forced to acknowledge that the injury, whatever its extent, would be debilitating if I weren’t on skates, I’m certain that I’d have no hope of walking on a leg like this, and turning has swiftly become a living nightmare. Still, I get by. I have to, don’t I? What other choice do I have? Now isn’t the time for weakness, there’s too much that needs to be covered, and letting the cracks show through isn’t an option.

It’s around noon when things get unusual. See, gangs wander onto one another’s turf all the time, it generally isn’t a challenge so long as they don’t leave paint behind or harass any of the other team’s members, but there is one exception - it’s an unspoken rule, but we really aren’t supposed to walk into another gang’s hangout without an invitation, and I’m really not sure where you’d go about getting one to start with. Violations of this rule usually result in the trespasser receiving a friendly reminder not to do this again in the form of an ass-kicking. So when the leader of Rapid 99 shows up in the Garage, no one is entirely sure what the hell is going on, because she really should know better. She takes it a step further when, upon being recognized, she calls out loudly for all of us to hear, “I’d like to speak to Beat. It’s an emergency. Is he here right now?”

I’d say that on good days, we’re allies with Rapid 99. If this weren’t true, someone would’ve chased her down the street by now, even now it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility. I step forward, receiving a stray glance from both Gum and Corn as I do, I make my way up the steps to face her at the road, and I use the railing to mask my limp as best as I can. As soon as I’m in front of her, I look her directly in the eye, daring her to back down. “Better be one hell of an emergency. What’s going on?”

She folds her arms and refuses to falter, despite the many glares pointed directly her way. Her words, however, betray her more than her stance does: “I hate to say it, but we need help.”

Something else that doesn’t happen often: requests for help. Not because it isn’t an option to ask for help, but because we all have our pride out here. My eyes narrow, and she bites down anxiously on her lip. I don’t think we’re the cause of it, though, and she slowly says, “It’s Ash. She’s gone missing.”

“Missing…?” Ash must be one of their members, and I frown as the implications occur to me. “In this weather? Do you think she’s alright?”

“I don’t know.” Her gaze wanders through the walls of the garage and off to elsewhere. “We’ve been searching for a while, but we don’t think she’s on 99th Street. No guarantee she’s at Dogenzaka Hill or the Terminal, either, but you know the place better than we do, you know a lot of places better than we do.” She releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. “Look, I’m not saying you have to go out of your way, all I’m really asking is that you keep an eye out for her.”

Despite her keeping the request simple, I can’t help but take the situation a little too personally. If she’s asking for help, they have to be desperate, and really, I think I get it. I’m a leader with a team too, after all. If it were Gum, or Yoyo, or Jazz, or any of the others, if I couldn’t find them? I think I’d be asking for help, too. It’s a big deal, to have anybody go missing in the winter. The weather doesn’t choose favorites, and who knows when it may turn again. She could freeze out there. Worst case scenario, she already has.

It’s that thought that slowly makes me nod, and the pain in my heart forces me to continue on, saying what I do: “We could keep an eye out. Or we could send a search party.” My words take a second to register with her, and I catch only a short glimpse of her surprise before I turn around to face the others. “You guys think we have time? Search everywhere you can think of.” I see one or two startled faces, but the others nod along, their expressions serious. I don’t tell them how to split, either - they automatically take off towards wherever they know best, and notably, they go in pairs. I think everybody will be alright, and Ash, I hope she turns up, whoever and wherever she may be. I don’t think we’ve met, but that’s irrelevant now. Rapid 99’s members have a distinct style of dress, their hair is often dyed, and they all wear a distinctive chain choker. We know what we’re looking for.

With everybody gone, I stand alone with Rapid 99’s leader, and admittedly, I’m aware that this isn’t the safest position to be in. A glance back her way, however, reveals no ill intention - her stoicism has fallen away to reveal some serious grief. I hesitate before asking, “I hate to make this my business, but have you ladies been getting along?” I need to rule out a few possibilities here. Running away would be the first, as Ash wouldn’t be wearing any of the usual identifiers in this case, and a search by us would be a waste of everyone’s time.

She nods absentmindedly in response. “Better than usual, I’d say.”

Alright. Second. “Any chance she offed herself somewhere…?” It happens, and there’s no sense in dancing around this. This would change where we should look.

“If I thought that was a possibility, I wouldn’t be here.”

Fair enough. Third. “Accidents happen sometimes in the sewers and especially ‘round the Skyscraper District. Have you guys searched there yet?”

“...” Her face says what her lips won’t: ‘Please don’t let her be there.’ I can understand that, too. If her friend here took a wrong turn in either of those places, who knows what we may find of her. After a moment, though, she does say, “We’ve searched the Skyscraper District, but it’s hard for us to get into the sewers. Poison Jam’s angry today, we didn’t stand a chance. Maybe you guys will have better luck…”

I’d say that increases her chance of being found there by two or three. I wish Garam luck, as the sewers happen to be his specialty, and as Yoyo is his best friend, the little man’s probably with him too. I hope that whatever they find, they don’t find a body. As it is, I can’t really comfort Miss 99 here, she’d know if I were lying to make her feel better, she has every right to worry and nothing in the world will change that. All I can think to say is, “Well, so long as she wants to be found, she’ll turn up.” Whatever happens, however she is, wherever she is, the least we can do is bring her back.

“Thanks.” Managing a slight laugh, she tells me, “This actually went a lot better than I expected.”

I’m sure it did. Giving her a rather wry smirk, I say, “Yeah, well, you may want to find a better way to get to me next time. Not sure how that would’ve gone down if I weren’t here.”

She releases a breath of amusement in response. “Well, drastic times call for drastic measures. There won’t be a next time.”

I’m pretty sure she means both the trespass and the call for help. For many reasons, I’d like to think there won’t be a next time, either. “See to it.” For everybody’s sake.

She nods before turning away. She isn’t relaxed, not exactly, but she seems to feel at least a little better than she did before. I’m glad that we were able to offer our assistance. I hope we’ll never have a need to make them repay the favour. “I’m going back to the others. We’ll keep an eye out on our turf, don’t hesitate to come find us, alright? I’ll seek you out if anything changes.”

“We’ll keep you posted.” Hopefully, we’ll wrap this up sooner than later. With that promise, she takes off down the road, where her gang is likely waiting for her.

I close my eyes and give the moment some thought. Not exactly the way I expected today to go, but hey, the last time we had to save a damsel, it was Yoyo, so I suppose this one’s more traditional. Hopefully there’s a happy ending this time, too.

I carefully make my way down the stone steps, using one hand to steady my knee and gripping the railing with the other. As I reach the tile, however, I catch movement from around the corner nearby, and alarm bells immediately begin to go off. My hand slips into my pocket, and my fingers have closed around my switchblade when the familiar voice calls out, “Relax. It’s just me.” Immediately my tension is gone, and Gum swings out from her hiding place. Even as she approaches, I see her staring down the road, off in the direction Miss 99 disappeared. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Beat. I didn’t want to leave you alone until I knew that the coast was clear. Figured Rapid 99 may’ve been up to something.”

Is that it? Well, they could’ve been, I guess. I considered it, though probably not to the extent that I should’ve.  “I’d be more worried if it were anybody else, but the Rapids aren’t so bad.” We have mutual enemies, so that would make us friends, I suppose. Never mind that, though. She’s gone now, so we have a search to start. “Where are we headed? Have the others left our place to us?” When I said we were sending a search party, I never restricted it to our territory alone. We have members from all over, and we all know how much ground we can cover if we set our minds to it. I still remember our search for Yoyo back when he was taken, and our team was even smaller back then. We can scour this entire city in no time, so that’s what we’ll do.

“Yeah, Dogenzaka Hill is all ours. Corn and Combo are at Shibuya Terminal already. They were worried about you too but I told them to go on ahead. Short of DJ Professor K, you probably have the most street knowledge in the entire city, we figured your judgement on this would be alright. Still, we’re all wrong sometimes, and it never hurts to have backup when it happens.”

It certainly doesn’t. “Well, my back’s always a little safer when you’re around.” There’s a lot of flatterly I wish I could stop to appreciate in her sentiment, but we don’t have the time to go into that. Instead, I say, “Thanks. Let’s get going.”

She nods swiftly and finally pulls her eyes off of the road to 99th Street. “I’ll be honest, this girl, I think you would’ve seen her already if she were here on our hill. It never hurts to look again, though.”

That’s probably true, but I’m certainly not about to argue with her. I nod as the two of us start for the alley that leads out onto the main street, and as we weave through the gates, she gives me a nudge. “Hey, Beat. I wanted to ask, are you alright? You’ve been a little stiff these days, and I almost didn’t catch it, but you seemed to be struggling with the stairs, too.”

I withhold a sigh. Figures she would notice that. It would’ve been pretty hard to miss, though it seems she almost did anyway. “I’m a little sore today, but I’ll be alright,” I insist. “Don’t worry about it.”

“We’ve got your back if you need to take a break, you know,” she says, sounding a little worried.

“I hear you,” I answer, and for a change, I think I mean that. After we’ve finished our search, I may have to take her up on that, whether I want to or not. I have a bad feeling about how severe the pain is becoming, about the way the joint popped as I made my way down those steps. This may not go away on its own. Maybe we have a brace somewhere. I guess if we don’t, we can just borrow one from the drugstore and never bring it back. That’s an option.

For now, though, we have more pressing matters at hand. The two of us continue together until the familiar alleys open up onto the familiar streets, and with that, we begin our search.

~*~*~

We have the mystery cleared in about forty five minutes. Not bad, I’d say, and the circumstances could be a lot worse. Granted, they could also be a lot better, but at the very least, we find her alive, that has to count for at least 90% of it.

As I figured, she was found in the sewers, and she was well on her way into hypothermia by the time she was turned up. I’m given the story by Garam and Yoyo before they bring me to see her back at the Garage: they found her on the wrong side of the sewer’s exit pit, curled up tightly in a dark space beneath a flight of stairs, one of the many, as I recall. The sewers are quite the labyrinth, but I can picture the scene. They apparently missed her on their first round, the point of taking cover in the dark is often to not be found, after all, but they made a second when they found a Rapid 99 tag on the premises. She barely managed to call out for their attention when she finally recognized them distinctly as ‘anybody but Poison Jam’. We do have common enemies, after all, she figured they could help her out, and that’s when the story gets ugly, as they often do when the sewers are involved. She was apparently on her way out of there when one of her jumps went wrong, and one of her boosters hit the corner of a ledge. As a result, the booster didn’t just puncture, it burst, and I can’t be the only one who shudders at the thought. Yoyo still looks incredibly disturbed as he lets me know. We all run the risk of such a mistake if we’re unlucky enough, given the pressure and flammability stored within boosters that we all have on us. I’ve never seen it happen before, but I’ve heard warnings, I’ve had close calls. It’s a bit like having an explosive attached to your feet, and that thought in the present is a little disquieting.

Yoyo and Garam quickly agree to round up the rest of the GGs, to let them know that the search is complete. They swiftly leave the rest of the mission to me. I find myself thinking that they take off unnaturally quickly, and when I meet Ash for the first time, when I see her sitting on our couch, I realize exactly why - Miss 99 is not going to be happy about what happened here. Ash is a mess, plain and simple. Her clothes are entirely soaked through, as apparently her bad jump not only cost her a skate and her foot, but it plummeted her into the sewage water, too. Speaking of that foot. Hoo boy. I wonder how I’m supposed to frame this to Ash’s leader. Either her foot looks bad, or what’s left of her foot looks surprisingly salvageable. Either way, it’s pretty jacked, and combined with hypothermia, it’s safe to say that the poor lady has not been having a good day. When I point it out, she insists that she’s had worse, but I’m not sure that I buy that, either. This one looks about as bad as it gets. We don’t have much to offer in the way of hospitality, Yoyo and Garam have already provided her a blanket and some tea they borrowed from Jazz’s collection, but they weren’t able to do much more when faced with a gender barrier. Gum quickly finds some spare clothes to give the soaked woman. I let her have my jacket before I grant the ladies some privacy.

Combo and Corn are the next to return, having the shortest distance to travel between here and Shibuya Terminal. All I really have to do is show them what’s left of her skate, a wheel and some metal framework, and the story tells itself. Both of them cringe, but they don’t ask for details. I figure that Yoyo and Garam may’ve already told them.

We wait a while for the others to get back, but when it seems they’ll be taking a little longer still, we simply start without them.

“So what’s the plan, then?” Corn asks when enough time has passed. “We just gonna send her off to 99th to meet the others?”

“We can’t. She can’t walk,” I point out. “I don’t think she can get to ground level with one foot, either.” To safely reach ground level on 99th street, we have to grind a rail attached to the back of a dragon statue. I wouldn’t call it easy even with two feet to stand on, forget only one. I did consider sending her alone, I really did, it’d spare us the Rapids’ potential wrath, but even if we’re in rival gangs, we’re all human beings around here. I don’t think any of us are that cruel. She’s in a lot of pain, why make it worse? She never hurt us. “I’ll take her home. Combo, mind tagging along?” The guy has massive amounts of physical body strength, it’s always been genuinely impressive to me. I don’t know if he works out, or where, but we’re lucky he’s a gentle giant and not the anger management guy. He’s always carrying a stereo with him, too, I think he’ll be able to carry Ash without any trouble. I’ve seen him hoist Mew over his shoulder, should be the same deal.

He seems to know it, too, and he nods in agreement. “Sure. Sounds simple enough.”

“I think you should take a girl with you too,” Corn says, and then he listens to Gum talking on the platform above us. I listen, too. She and Ash seem to be getting along reasonably well, so I’m sure she’ll agree to come with if we ask. Rapid 99 is an all female team, so having a girl on the return squad might help us talk to them if they’re inconsolably upset. It’s hard to know what form a response to tragedy will take out here, so I’d like to cover all bases, if possible. I nod my agreement, and Corn nods back. “Three should be enough, too, so I’ll stay here and fill in the others as they return.”

Someone has to. Corn will do a good job on that, I trust him not to screw around. “Alright. I’m counting on you.”

I turn back towards the stairs and brace myself to climb them, Combo hurrying along ahead of me towards the stairs. Getting to 99th Street and back is going to be awful, I can already feel it. There’s heat emanating from my ankle and twisting its way up into my hip. Trying to put any extra weight on it requires me to bite my tongue to keep myself from admitting to the injury on the breath. Trying to distract myself, I call to Corn, “Hey, when they get back, tell Garam and Yoyo that I know why they ran so quickly. Tell them that they’re pussies.”

Corn practically cackles. “I’m so glad I woke up this morning.”

Well, at least somebody is today.

“We’re coming up!” Combo calls, and when we receive no objections from the ladies, we start towards the platform. Already, Ash looks a little better. The dry clothes seem to have done her wonders, and she’s cuddling into the jacket I gave her. The sight reminds me that it’s freezing out here, but it at least makes me feel a little warmer on the inside. Gum has already wrapped the wounded party’s foot with bandages from our first aid kit, and she’s found a stray plastic bag for her skate and a quarter.

I’m at the third step from the top when my knee abruptly stops halfway through my step. It’s a strange feeling, it’s as though the joint hits an invisible wall, it harshly and suddenly refuses to move. I’m hit by a flare of panic as the attempt to stretch it out only seems to make it worse, as the bones seem to be grinding together. I rest my foot against the second step and try to think. I hone in on the way that it feels, I run my hand against my thigh and let my fingers brush the joint. I guess there’s too much tension in the muscle, and there’s an awful sharpness to the feeling, too. I stop to catch my breath, not that I’m all that winded. If I relax, it’ll straighten out again, right? I tell myself that as I carefully slide my fingers to the back of my knee, massaging it carefully. The skin feels tender beneath my clothes...Is it swollen? Now really isn’t the time to check...

“I heard you guys talking down there, and I don’t have any problems joining you. We’re ready to go,” Gum tells us immediately, though as she turns around, she notices that I’ve paused, and only Combo is at the top of the platform. Her eyes trace each step I haven’t climbed before lingering on me with a hint of uncertainty. “You alright there, Beat?”

I try not to sigh. What does it look like, I wonder. “Yeah, just a cramp,” I tell her flatly. Not really impressed with myself today, I’m finding. “I should probably use these stairs every now and again instead of grinding over the rails…”

Combo seems to find the remark funny, but Gum seems less sure. This isn’t the first time she’s seen me struggle with stairs today, after all.

Slowly but surely, the joint unlocks itself. It doesn’t feel as good as I’d have thought, instead, the release of the tension also releases a fresh wave of of hell through my muscles. I bite back a variety of swear words as they rise at a rapid pace within my throat, and instead I throw a smirk their way. I stretch it out as far as I can go without shrieking aloud before I clear the last two steps, frustratingly aware that we’re going to have to climb back down in a few seconds. Not for the first time, I’m thankful for the cover my shades provide my facial expression, and when I shrug the same way I always do, the two seem to let the moment go. We all face Ash once more. I nod her way. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s get you back, alright? You’ve been missed for long enough.” For the first time since her arrival, she smiles, if only a little.

Gum quickly lends the girl her shoulder, and once she’s on her feet, we start for the stairway that leads to the road. 99th Street isn’t far off, it’s only up a flight of stairs and less than a mile across the asphalt, but the knot in my leg is bound to make the journey feel like so much more than that. My skates aren’t helping much as I’d have hoped. I can’t help but think Ash must feel the same way, for similar reasons, and I find myself exchanging a sympathetic look with the lady. She seems a little down, I can hardly blame her for that. I take the lead to keep my face out of everybody’s view. I know it’s starting to show, and we don’t have time for this right now.

~*~*~

There is some good news to be found upon arrival, at the very least - We’re hardly a few paces onto 99th Street when we catch sight of one of the Rapids. She’s sitting on the bench by the base of the dragon statue’s tail, Ash identifies her as ‘Drive’. We may not have to take the lady home on our own after all. I was worried about facing the entire team, having to be the bearer of bad news, but maybe we’ll get to be back in the Garage in time to order pizza, or something.

As soon as we’ve established our route down via the back of the dragon statue, Combo is quick to let the injured party hop onto his back. It’s a saving grace I almost find myself wishing I had. As I analyze the familiar railing, the space between the road and the statue, as I take in how every motion of skating forward feels within my bones, the mere idea of jumping sends a cold chill through my spine. No matter how I focus or distribute my weight, no matter how familiar I am with this leap, I’ll need both feet to make it possible. I haven’t exactly practiced landing on only one foot, there’s never been a point, and when making dangerous jumps, there’s no sense in taking needless risks like that. I’d give anything to have a member of Rapid 99 meet us on this piece of the highway instead, but Miss Drive doesn’t seem to have noticed us, and calling down is asking for unwanted attention. So I’ll be jumping today. So be it. I’ll just have to hope it doesn’t kill me.

I grit my teeth together as tightly as humanly possible, and with that, I pick up speed. Momentum means everything here, not too much and not too little. I can hear the sounds of Combo and Gum trailing behind me. There’s no way they’re thinking anything of this. We’ve done this a countless number of times, we’ve been here before, we’ve raced here, we’re practically parkour experts on these roofs. How should this be any different? That girl is probably lighter than Combo’s boombox, he’ll be fine...

With at least that knowledge to amuse myself with, I brace my limbs and leap over the edge.

My vision hones in and centers entirely on my landing space, the head of the dragon statue. The wave of familiarity is at least of some comfort. I know exactly how this jump feels, how high I need to go, what angle I need to land at. I know that I haven’t made any miscalculations this time, either. The wind over my skin, the feeling of weightlessness. I’ve done it so many times before that in the split second between the jump and the landing, I’m able to smother my nerves with intense concentration, as I brace my mind for a very sharp impact with the rail.

It isn’t enough. Not even close.

No amount of mental rehearsal could’ve prepared me for the agony that landing slams up through the wheels and into my joints. My entire leg lurches, my ankle twists before rolling, searing, spared from a potential break only by the support of the skate that surrounds it. My knee threatens to crack sideways in a way that it should not biologically be able to. A scream tears its way out of my throat as the flame bolts up my leg, through my hip, further still into my side, across my abdomen, my weight lurches forward diagonally as my leg fails to support me, my body unable to comprehend the sheer intensity of the way my muscles tear. The world blurs before my eyes, my mind wavers and threatens to give.

If it had given, even for a second, I would’ve probably died then and there. It isn’t a short drop to the floor below, after all. I don’t know what it is that spares me. Maybe my brain realizes that the ground is gone, that the world is rushing by, that my ribs have collided with the dragon’s back, that familiar voices are ringing in the distance. My eyes, bleary from the sudden heat, regain clarity of the rail for only an instant, pulling it into unnaturally sharp focus. I’m hardly thinking at all when my hand shoots out and catches it. If I hadn’t managed when I had, I would’ve lost my chance, and potentially my life.

It isn’t a sturdy grip that I find myself with. My body is shaking violently, threatening to fail me again at any second. There’s a massive blank space where my thoughts should be, those that try to creep in are trembling as though overwhelmed, as though melting in that blanket of fire that the pain has shot through me, it’s as though my mind is sweltering and thick with humidity. My fingers rigidly hang on to the rail only out of some unspoken survival instinct, but there’s a weakened strain in my wrist and a notch in my throat, my vision is faded and my blood is slamming through my ears, shaking my skull. Everything is silent aside from that awful pounding, and it hurts to breathe. It hurts in ways I never thought possible.

Somehow, in the midst of all of this, a little voice reminds me that if I stay where I am, Gum and Combo won’t be able to use the rail without running over my fingers. I don’t know why my brain needed a reason not to continue hanging over a long distance drop, but somehow, this thought is the thought that I need in order to move. It tells me to start my way down, because staying here will only make things worse, not just for me, but for everybody. And somehow, in some way that I can barely even comprehend, I raise my other arm, I find my grip along with my strength, and I pull myself back up onto that rail. I settle my feet very carefully onto it, gasping for air that I can hardly feel, and I contemplate how much speed I’ll need to slide down this properly without falling off again. I adjust my ankles, though putting the left into any sort of motion sends a knife straight through it, and I release a second scream, this one mercifully soundless. When I think I can handle it, or more accurately, when I think I’m taking too long, I give the boosters on my skates a flick, and I practically shoot myself down the length of the rail.

While I manage to maintain my balance, in the end, the rest of my strength fails me. It knots itself in useless places, into muscle tension, it holds my position so I don’t fall off again, which is good and all until I actually make it to the floor. After this, it’s utterly useless in slowing me down or stopping me, though the city is fortunate in that there don’t seem to be any people in my way. I’m fully prepared to slam into the stairs and collapse there when I hear wheels rushing in my direction, I hear a female voice calling out. A pair of arms wrap around me as weight crashes into my side from the left,  the chain of a choker pressing against my skin as we both skid off course. While we do wind up falling, the woman, whoever she is, takes the brunt of it for me, and her own landing is very controlled and probably painless.

I owe her a serious thanks, but I don’t really have the mind for it yet. I don’t have the mind for anything more than an anguished wail directly into the concrete, and what’s left of my pride is doing what it can to prevent that. So I lie there barely breathing and do absolutely nothing else, because somehow circumstances have suddenly made this the most dignified use of these moments.

The truth is, I haven’t been this scared in a long, long time.

That was too close.

We’re silent for about five whole seconds before my human shield suddenly yells, her voice high pitched in alarm, “What the fuck was that about?!”

Before I can even answer her, I hear familiar voices calling my name and coming closer.

“Beat! Holy shit!!” Gum sounds mortified, and with good reason.

“Fuck, man, you should’ve said something--!” Combo’s voice is strained, and I think I hear Ash say, “Are you alright…?!” Which is a stupid fucking question. I’m still shaking. My mind feels stretched thin, and I’ve got no words for any of them. It hurts. My left knee fucking hurts, I can hardly stand it...I try. I swear, I try to answer, but all that comes out is a whimper.

My human shield is still holding onto me when she suddenly blurts out, “Ash…?!” Maybe the chain should’ve made it obvious, but only then do I realize that Drive must be the woman holding onto me. I guess she was the only one who could’ve known to look up when the other GG’s started yelling my name in terror. Adjusting herself very slightly, one arm still over my shoulder, she says, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you! Thank God…” She doesn’t really seem to know what to politely do with me, so we both sort of continue to lie there.

“I...Yeah.” Ash seems a little shaken by the whole incident, but she manages to continue. “Thanks for sending a rescue crew. The sewers are freezing in the Winter…”

“We tried to get down there ourselves, but Poison Jam wouldn’t let us in...GG’s were the best bet we had. I’m glad you’re alright…”

No one moves at all for a while. I wish desperately that I could stop shaking, but the combination of the fear and the cold is making it difficult. It feels like every joint in my leg is throbbing, and I feel a headache coming on. I haven’t had a serious migraine in a while. Can’t say I’ve missed them...

Gum is the one who finally breaks the stillness. She gradually makes her way over to me, crouches down beside us both on the steps, and quickly positions herself beneath my shoulder. “Hold on.” By now, I at least have the mind to oblige, and I wrap my unsteady arms around her. With some effort and a little help from Drive, I’m lifted upright.

I try to make use of myself, I try to position myself on solid ground, but my left leg refuses to be a part of it yet. It almost immediately gives way, and I slump sideways, a choked gasp escaping me as Gum shifts herself to accommodate, her muscles taut with distress. From the corner of my eye, I see Combo letting Ash down, and although Drive seems a little uncertain about how appropriate it might be given my condition, she still moves to embrace her teammate. On the distant fringes of my mind, I’m glad, I truly am. It’s a touching reunion. I do manage a little smile, one Ash notices over her partner’s shoulder and returns.

“Beat, what the fuck-?!” Gum hisses into my ear. Despite her harsh words, I can hear her voice shaking in alarm.

The adrenaline rush from the fall has left me a little unresponsive. I try a few times to start a sentence, but it winds up almost incoherent, and I decide to give up on the attempt until I can stop panting. It takes a few minutes and a lot more concentration than I would’ve thought. It feels as though I literally have to corral my thoughts back in, I have to pay attention to things that should be automatic, like staying on my feet, like breathing, like holding onto her back as to not fall back to the ground, I have to keep my injured leg off the floor, because even if the fucking thing should know better, it still wants to support my weight out of habit alone.

I don’t think it takes as long as it feels. It feels like half an hour, at least, but it’s probably only a few minutes at most. I swallow a lump in my throat as my nerves, which feel a lot like frayed fibers, slowly begin to knit themselves back together. As my body slowly begins to get the message that I’m alright for now, my heartbeat begins to slow down, and only then do I manage to say, “Well that sucked.”

Gum doesn’t seem to know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?!” There’s some relief to her tone, but I know that she’s demanding a real answer. She can probably guess what the issue may be by the way I’m slumped over, though. My left leg is still trying uselessly to find a comfortable position.

I wonder if this is as serious as it feels. Is there any way I can make myself hold until we return to the Garage? I have to at least try.

I firmly grip her arm as I begin to lower my injured leg back to the ground, as I begin to straighten myself out, working my balance back into my posture. It burns like nothing else before it has, but I push myself into it anyway, and Gum, perhaps against her better judgement, provides me support until I seem alright. I know she’s at least aware that I’m still not okay, but she also understands that there’s a place and time for her to take the lead, and this isn’t quite it. I feel awful, but I don’t want to talk about it in front of Rapid 99, and she has to know that. I release an awful moan of a breath, trying to force what’s left of the agony from my lungs before I turn to face the other two women. They’re watching me intently, and there’s no denying their uncertainty. I’m sure it still looks pretty bad, I’m not breathing naturally yet, and I’m disoriented from how much happened in so little time. I find my gaze wandering back to the top of the dragon statue, I find myself calculating the distance of that fall. It’s not a pleasant thought, and I wind up frowning. “That could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“No shit,” Drive says, and she seems a little baffled. I probably made it sound too simple. I tend to do that when I’m upset. I watch as her gaze follows mine, her own face falling as it does. “I was watching, you know,” she tells me. “I didn’t see Ash on his back, but I was watching the whole time. You hit that landing perfectly. What happened?”

I wince. “It doesn’t matter now.” I’m through talking about it. I don’t have the strength to find it embarrassing yet, though I know I will eventually. At the moment, it’s just...a little unnerving that it happened at all. I’m finding it surprisingly difficult to keep my game face on, as my leg spasms in protest to my standing. I swallow hard and ignore it, even as it begins to visibly waver. I try to pretend it’s the cold. “Listen, Ash hit her booster against one of the grills in the sewer. I’m sure she’ll be able to explain the story to you in better detail, but the short version is, her foot is going to need some looking after. If it doesn’t get infected, I think she’ll be fine.” I think if even a medical professional told her that she’d never skate again, she’d still find a way to skate again. I know I would, so despite my uncertainty about the nerve damage she likely sustained, I don’t comment.

“Y-Yeah…” Drive glances between both myself and Ash for a few seconds at a time. Ultimately, though, her priority is with her own team, so she finally lets her concerns about me go. It’s a weight off of my own back, too. Turning to face her friend, she says, “So, Ash. What’s with the gear?” The injured lady has her usual choker on her, but that’s about it, the rest of it’s Gum’s, and the jacket’s mine.

“I took a dive into the water,” Ash sighs. She doesn’t seem pleased with herself today. That makes two of us. “It was about as cold, slimy, and gross as you’d imagine it to be. My mouth tasted like shit up until I got some tea…” Trying to lighten the mood, she gives me a glance and says, “Good tea, too.”

“I’ll ask Jazz where she got it sometime,” I say lightly. I don’t know if we’ll actually speak again after this, but it seems like the right thing to say. “Hold onto those clothes for as long as you need them.” I shouldn’t say it, I know I shouldn’t say it, but I still add, “I’d say our style looks good on you.” I have been accused a few times of actively trying to steal the members of other gangs. I’m not trying, I swear I’m not, I just like to have fun sometimes.

Drive rolls her eyes, unamused with my attitude, but Ash, she looks pleased, even coy about it. She leans in, just a little bit. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a chain choker yourself.” I wonder if she meant for that to sound questionable. Probably. She slowly begins to smirk. “...You know. If you’re into that.”

Okay, try definitely. I begin to smirk back. “I might be. Who knows?” I try not to laugh when I feel Gum slap my back in warning. I should probably not push my luck today, though I do still nod her way and add, “Stay warm, alright?” I have an extra jacket lying around somewhere, probably beneath one of the Garage couch cushions. I should’ve fished it out before heading out this way. Too late now.

She looks as though she wishes to continue our earlier conversation, but I watch as her contemplative grin earns her a very stern death glare from her teammate. Really, I think if she tries to pursue this topic anyway, I’ll be the one who gets hurt. With that in mind, her look fades from flirty to thankful, and more than a little bit tired. “Thanks. I won’t forget this.”

“None of us will,” Drive adds. “If you want to receive thanks, the rest of Rapid 99 will be here shortly. We were going to meet up.”

I consider it for a very short moment, but I wind up shaking my head. “I’ll be honest, I’d rather be gone before any of you get a good look at her foot.” It’s going to be upsetting at the very least, and after that last exchange, Drive would probably love any excuse to slap me across the face. I’d rather not give her the opportunity.

Ash hesitates at that. I see her consider it carefully before she says, “Maybe your team should look at yours, too…?”  My breath catches for a moment in surprise, and then I sigh, not sure how to feel about it. Looks like that fall hasn’t been entirely forgotten yet, then. That would be a hard thing to forget, wouldn’t it? It was pretty serious. I find myself looking anywhere else to avoid the gaze of both Gum and Combo. I wind up staring at the floor, and then at Ash’s foot.

Admitting to weakness is almost impossibly difficult for me, but as her own gaze falls to her own foot, as I catch her silently lamenting the way she leans against Drive’s shoulder, I quietly manage to say, “More my knee than my foot, really.” Any injury to the leg is serious out here, for far too many reasons. Still, it’s not like they aren’t common, either. They’re practically inevitable, and mine won’t go away if I pretend that it doesn’t exist. I’ve already tried that.

Before anybody can say anything else, however, a sound pierces the air - a police siren, and freakishly close, as well. Over it, a voice begins, announcing through a loudspeaker: “The targets have been found on the plaza of 99th Street! I repeat to all units, the targets have been found-”

“Shit! Did they hear we were meeting here…?!” Drive abruptly shoots a look towards us. I almost think she’s about to accuse us of something, but instead she says, “You guys get out of here! Leave this to us!”

The rest of Rapid 99 isn’t here yet, and one of them is crippled. Is that really a good idea…?!

Before I can point this out, perhaps offer them shelter at the Garage, a taser-shot is fired, missing Combo’s arm by inches.

“Run!” Gum yells urgently, and she doesn’t have to tell me twice.

In the heat of the moment, we make our escape on the basic assumption that this one is like every other before it. All three of us whirl around and bolt back towards the tail of the dragon statue, and only when a tearing sensation blooms in my ankle do I recall that these aren’t the usual circumstances. Unfortunately, it’s too late to remind anybody or to ask for help. Even if there were time, I don’t think there’d be much anybody could do for me. It’s far easier to carry a person down the rails than it is to carry them back up. Combo being Combo, he might be able to pull it off, but given that he’s the biggest of us, he’s also the largest target. I don’t want to make it any more difficult for him.

The dragon’s tail is connected to the ground, sparing me the potential problems of having to hop onto it, though I do adjust the boosters once more to maintain the speed required to get to the dragon’s head. The scenery swirls around me as I boost along the statue’s spine, and I watch as Gum and as Combo leap off the rail and onto the road, as they start swiftly towards the garage without even a backwards glance.

I don’t bother calculating the distance between the head of the statue and the street. I know I’ll make the jump, that isn’t the question. As my stomach sinks, I know that the question is, ‘will something finally break?’ There’s no guarantee that a bone isn’t already fractured, the joints are already weak, they have been weak for a while now. My ankle is not stable, my knee feels as though it’s contorting into itself. I can already feel it buckling beneath me as pain spikes through in a constant stream. I try to tune it out, but ignorance is no remedy for weakness, and no amount of internal strength will keep the body together in the face of trauma. I know that.

As I make the leap, I come to terms with the fact that this may be worse than the first impact. Not only will it be likely be worse, but after this, I may be unable to walk for a while. There’s a distinct sense of terror that swells in my chest when I realize that. Maybe it’s that I’m powerless to do anything about it, already being in midair, or maybe it’s that my only other choice would’ve been to wait down below and let myself get arrested. I’m not sure assistance was ever truly an option. The moment the shot was fired, everybody went into survival mode, and in that survival mode, I’ve always been able to take care of myself. I’ve never asked for help, I can’t think of a single time where I needed it or even wanted it.

It isn’t that I regret that. It’s more that I wish it hadn’t come to this. Because as it turns out, now that I need help, I don’t know what to ask for, or how to ask for it. I don’t actually know what to do.

It’s too late for that now.

I don’t actually remember landing. I remember being slightly above the ground, but the instant I hit the ground goes blank. I land on my feet. I know that. Shortly afterwards, there’s a violent wring in my bones, my nerves, there’s a sensation of wrongness. Then there’s a snap. I think I scream this time too, or at least somebody does, so it’s probably me. My vision cuts out in that moment, as does a lot of my awareness. My leg gives way, my own forward momentum carries me forcefully across the ground as I collide with it. I take a lot of the impact with my shoulder, my elbow, across the side of my thigh and my knee, perhaps in my hip as well. In one saving grace, I’m able to tuck in my head and spare myself a concussion or worse. The asphalt is coarse and grainy in quality, I feel it as I skid across. I don’t stop moving until I hit the link fence on the opposite side of the road, and then I am still.  Perhaps in an act of mercy, my consciousness and my nerve endings temporarily agree to stop communicating, because I’m aware of this. I’m aware of all of this, but I don’t feel it. There’s nothing. There’s no pain, not really, maybe in the most abstract sense it’s there, but it’s distant, it feels more like pins and needles, or TV static.

The darkness can’t hold me for long, but it feels like a very, very long time in the moment. My brain doesn’t process right away that everything has stopped moving, nor does it notice that the danger hasn’t passed and that I need to get back up. For a moment, it feels more as though it, along with my body, has quit on me. I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m tired, and I’m hurting, I guess, I should be hurting.

Am I allowed to rest yet…? As my thoughts drift, as they snap in and out of place, I do genuinely find myself wondering if I should just stay here for a while.

The curb seems like as good a place as any.

That thought snaps out. A new one fades in, jerking in and out of focus, a thought that it’s not safe here. A wave of heat shudders through my limbs, my mind shouts in warning that I am injured, a warning my other thoughts shut down.

Not now. Not yet.

Whatever energy I have left seems to be pressing against the outer edges of my muscles as though trying to escape, it bundles up between my body and the road and tightens its grip.

Exhaustion smothers my senses. I am completely exhausted. I don’t know if I can fight it.

I feel Gum’s strength, her shoulders, Drive’s arms over mine. I see Ash’s sadness, I see her huddling into the jacket I gave her. The jacket, her own wet clothes cast aside, the chill that had to come with wearing them. It’s cold. It’s so cold out here...

It’s cold, isn’t it?

Then why am I not…

It’s warm, isn’t it…?

A stinging sensation prickles my skin, especially where it meets the road.

This isn’t warmth.

It’s getting worse, isn’t it?

I can slowly feel the air scraping my throat on its way into my lungs.

This is...

My vision is starting to come back into focus.

This is blood. This warmth is blood, right?

My vision cuts. It can’t handle this, not yet.

It begins to burn.

I can feel my fingers again. I don’t know if I want to.

Nothing is going to get done if I lie here. So be it.

It hurts to breathe...

Everything hurts.

I feel myself shudder, and I search my thoughts for something.

Anything.

I need to get up.

I’m tired.

It hurts.

It burns.

I don’t have time…

I’m injured.

I hear sirens.

I don’t have time.

My vision tries again.

I see a long, black, paved road. Bisecting it is red. A long, thick length of red.

Am I okay…?

I don’t have time…

‘Beat!’

I need to get up…

My vision wavers, but it keeps trying.

There are taser shots nearby. Gunshots, too.

There are thin slivers within the pool of red. I don’t know what they are. I don’t think I want to.

I can’t stay here. I don’t have time. I need to get up…

My body spasms as I try to make it move.

I need to get up…

My mind reels.

“Get up…!” I find that I say it aloud as my subconsciousness starts screaming.

Get up…

I don’t have time…!

I need to move-!

“BEAT!”

Reality snaps back into place. My back is arched against the wire fence on the opposite side of the highway, my head is tucked against my chest. My headphones aren’t over my ears or my neck, so they must’ve clattered off somewhere. Blood blossoms beneath my body where layers of my skin have been shredded away by the road, I can only think that it may leave some nasty scars, though I can’t see them from this angle. I don’t think it’s fatal, but it certainly is enough to leave me dizzy.

It feels as though hours have passed, but as I’m starting to blink back to life, I realize that this couldn’t be less true. In fact, it takes two more seconds for Combo and Gum to arrive at the spot where I lie against the fence. Was it really so short…? Gum’s eyes are wide in horror, Combo’s seem wracked with guilt. There’ll be time later to assure him that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his job to remember. If I wanted them to remember, I wouldn’t have understated it until now, and it’s all moot when the cops show up, anyway.

Their faces return some clarity to me, not much, but enough. I roll slightly, onto my stomach, I press my good arm into the ground to lift myself. I need to get up. The movement sends a twinge through my opposite arm that I’m desperate to ignore.

I’m still trying to lift myself up that way when Combo crouches down, positioning himself against me. “This’ll be faster, man” he says, and without giving me time to argue, he hoists me up and over his shoulder. It’s does knock what little wind I had in me back out, but I don’t even bother trying to argue. I’d lose, anyway. I catch Gum scooping up my headphones before the two take off as fast as they can down the street. I let myself slump, I let my eyes close. Every bump in the road causes my body to wrack, and I hear Combo apologize more than once. I do my best not to cause him any trouble. Somewhere in there, I think I remember to thank him.

~*~*~

“Yo! You guys sure took your...time...oh, shit. What the...”

“What the fuck..?!”

“Beat!?”

Well, it sounds like we’re home. I just wish I could open my eyes, but my strength is...it’s gone. I don’t have even have the energy to ask Combo to put me down. I don’t think he would, even if I did.

I’ve managed to wrap one arm around his opposite shoulder for a grip, if only as to avoid looking dead when we got back, but my other arm hangs limply at my side, and blood is pouring over my skin, dripping onto both his clothes and the street. My jeans have been torn, I can feel blood trickling down my outer leg as well. That doesn’t even cover what my shattered knee must look like beneath my clothes, I can already feel swelling in both it and my ankle. I’m still winded, I feel as though I may be in a state of emotional shock, because my feelings on everything are muted. There’s a vague sense of sadness beneath the agony that is literally everything else, but I can’t seem to muster up more than that. I don’t know if that’s better or worse, given the circumstances.

It sounds like everyone is back from their search, and immediately, they’re all calling my name. I hear many skates speeding towards us. I hear Gum call to us both. “Combo, put him on the couch! I’ll get the first aid kit! Beat, hang in there!”

I don’t think I’m dying, but I don’t really have it in me to correct her.

It’s hard for me to think over the clamor. Even Pots starts barking like crazy in the midst of it all, and my headache only gets worse, blindingly worse. I wish they would all quiet down, but I can’t seem to ask for that, I can only squeeze my eyes more tightly together and silently beg that maybe I’ll go deaf. Maybe they aren’t that loud, but it certainly sounds that way to me. It’s likely that it’s overstimulation .

“Everybody calm down!” Combo calls, around the same time that Corn shouts “Everybody shut the fuck up!” Which essentially means the same thing around here. Either way, the noise level tones down, to my eternal relief, and Corn immediately begins to snap. “Gum’s getting the first aid kit, Yoyo, Cube, look around for some towels or spare clothes. Mew, some water. Soda, Piranha, see if we have any painkillers lying around. Garam, Clutch, there are some extra blankets downstairs, his jacket’s there too, go get them. I’ll find Roboy and give him something to do. And Combo, when we’ve gotten everything together, you’re going to tell us what the fuck happened, and whose ass we’re kickin’, cuz Rapid 99 isn’t getting away with this!”

Corn was the one who founded the GGs in this location before I took over, and times like these remind me that he actually has it in him to take charge when shit goes down. I like that, but hearing him lash out at Combo rubs me the wrong way, and Rapid 99 didn’t actually do anything. I guess I understand where the thought came from, but hearing his rage go in the wrong direction upsets me. I search for my voice, and I barely manage to find it before everyone takes off. “Listen, it’s my own fucking fault.” I could hear everybody departing, but they all stop the moment they hear me.

I don’t know who it is that begins, “Beat-”

I don’t let them finish. “‘Beat’ nothing, my knee gave out, and that’s my own fault, alright? Rapid 99 covered our asses when the cops showed up, we didn’t walk into any sort of trap, so only Cube’s allowed to punch the shit out of ‘em, and she can do that on her own time.” Before Cube was the leader of Poison Jam, she was also a member of Rapid 99, so if she has grudges, that’s fine, I won’t stop her.

Speaking of Cube, I hear her voice grow stiff as she says, “Your knee…? How...”

“You knocked it pretty hard against something last week, right?” Yoyo’s voice is strained, as though it hurts him to say this. “It didn’t seem great back then either, yo.” I smirk, if only a little. He really is more observant than we give him credit for.

“Do we need to take him to the emergency room?” Piranha asks. There are knee fractures that require surgery, though I can hear her doubt, and I feel some of my own. “Is there an emergency room that’ll even take him…?”

“We’ll take care of it ourselves,” Jazz snaps, though she sounds worried too. “I really don’t want anybody calling the cops on him while he’s trying to recover.”

“If his arteries are damaged, then what the hell are we supposed to do? We aren’t surgeons,” Garam points out, frustrated.

“There are probably some back alley doctors…” Mew says.

“That is a terrible idea,” Corn mutters, and I have to agree.

“It is, but what are our other options if this gets serious?” Cube says, and I can hear her temper rising. “I’m not saying we should talk to back alley doctors, but it may not hurt if we have a plan-”

A fresh stab of pain hits my knee like a hammer, and the blood from my elbow is beginning to stick my arm to the couch. I force my shuddering voice to rise. “Listen, I hate to interrupt, but this fucking hurts…!” My voice cracks, under too much pressure from the nausea, torment, and distress. The argument over emergency treatment abruptly ends, especially when Gum reaches the top of the stairs and yells in pure fury, “What are you all standing around for?! He needs help! GET MOVING!” Immediately they disperse, and I hear Gum as she drops down by the side of the couch, I hear the click of the first aid box as it opens.

Combo drops down beside her moments later. “Man, listen, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “If I can’t handle myself, that’s on me, not you.”

“Combo, they were shooting at you,” Gum says, sounding surprisingly calm as she goes through our kit. I didn’t think about it, but considering how the shot grazed by him, she’s probably right about that. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Skates come towards us. “Here’s some water. I’ll go get more,” Mew says. There’s a brief pause, I hear quiet clatter, and a moment later, I feel my headphones press over my ears. “You look a lot healthier with these on,” she murmurs, and then she’s off once more in search for water.

My headphones, huh? Mew is ridiculous...I manage a very shaky grin, but it hurts, and the additional pain begins to bring tears to my eyes, whether I want them there or not. I hear Gum whisper my name miserably as one or two make it past my shades and down my cheek. I’m trying to keep it all together, I really am, but there’s a fracture in my psyche that’s making it difficult. I’m starving. I’m thirsty. I’m tired. I am so, so tired...The more tired I get, the more I ache, and it only makes the consistently flaring knives, needles, and flame feel that much worse. I can’t stand crying. I can’t remember the last time I cried, come to think of it. It’s weird. It’s really weird...I slowly take off my shades. I cast them aside, and I cross my good arm over my eyes. I try to breathe.

“Hang in there, alright?” Gum murmurs again, her voice gentle. “We’ll take care of you.” She releases a breath of amusement as she adds, “I know you don’t want that, but you have no choice, so take a deep breath and leave it to us.”

She knows me too well, doesn’t she? I exhale slowly but steadily. I need their help. I have no choice here. There’s no sense begrudging that.

It may sting my pride a little, but at least I understand how lucky I am. I’m very lucky to have these guys. I wouldn’t trade them for anything else in the world. I’ll try to remember that when the peroxide comes out, I think with a wry sense of amusement.

“Thanks.” I do mean that. I owe them a lot today. I owe a lot of people a lot of things, really. Getting here hasn’t been easy, and there’s still a long way to go. It’s difficult to relax when it hurts to breathe, but I do what I can now, because for better and for worse, I’ve done all I can otherwise. “I...I guess I’ll try to get some rest…” That’s all there is left for me to do.

I hear a brief pause, and sigh that resembles both pain and laughter. “You know what? I literally can’t remember the last time I heard you say that,” Combo tells me.

And the truth is, I don’t remember either.

~*~*~

It’s late when I come around again, and still nobody shows any sign of leaving. Not even those of us who have apartments to return to have taken their leave yet.

I’ve been in and out of consciousness for a while now. They gave me some painkiller, but it hasn’t been quite strong enough to keep the inflammation from waking me up from time to time. It’s been unpleasant, but I’ve been getting by. It seems every time I come around, something new has been done to try and help me, whether that be something as major as a replacement of towels to soak up the blood, something thoughtful such as leaving some water for me to drink, or something silly like drawing a smiley face on my bandages with a felt pen (that was probably Mew). Every time, the conversation on the platform around me is about something new, as well. This time, it’s about bone stabilization, something we don’t really know anything about, but bless their hearts, they’re trying.

“You know, you’d think we’d have a brace somewhere, given how common sprains and fractures are around here,” Corn is complaining, sounding dejected.

“Well, I’ve looked all over, and I’ve found nothing,” Combo says, sounding unhappy himself. The guy sounds exhausted, too. I’m not the only one who needs to sleep, but I keep that to myself. If I even try to make a comment like that right about now, everyone will hound the shit out of me for it. Some other time, then. “What do you guys all think? He’ll need one, won’t he?”

“No doubt about it,” Gum murmurs. “Not just a brace, either. I’d say he’ll need crutches. He won’t be skating for a while.” Crutches? Hearing the word is enough to leave a sour taste in my mouth, but they’re not wrong, if I ever want this thing to heal, if I don’t want to wind up crippled. I bite my lip. Damnit...

“I had Roboy collect some data, and it can take upwards of two months for a knee injury to heal properly. That’s assuming his ankle heals at the same rate,” Corn says. “It could be more. It’s going to be a process.” I feel my stomach sink, but I keep that to myself, too. Two months, huh…? Do I even have that type of patience? “We’re seriously gonna have to keep an eye on him, guys. It’s probably hard to tell sometimes, but Beat takes running this show very seriously.”

“He does a good job…” Combo sighs.

“Not being able to keep up with the street is gonna kill him,” Gum agrees softly. “It’s practically his favorite thing to do around here.” Frustration pents up within my muscles, and I tuck into myself. It burns, but I think I prefer that to the silence I’m otherwise holding myself to.

"I'll do my best to pick up the slack, but I wish I didn't have to," Soda murmurs.

“Hey, I was thinking, and maybe we shouldn’t give him crutches,” Clutch suggests. “I mean, I’m don’t trust him not to run off on us-”

“What right do you have to lecture him about running off on us?” Gum retorts, and I nearly laugh. Yeah, what right indeed.

“Hey, that was a long time ago!” Clutch insists, though Gum seems to have somehow won the argument by default. 

“One legged crutch parkour,” Mew says to herself, her voice a little spacey.

“No,” Yoyo answers flatly, and I laugh to myself. It’s a very quiet, breathless laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Nobody hears it, but they don’t need to. It feels good.

“He needs a brace,” Jazz says, gently trying to bring everyone back on topic. Not an easy thing to do, I may add, but she manages, and the ruckus dies down. “What do you suppose we do?”

“Rapid 99 has a few knee braces,” Cube offers. “We had a few injuries ourselves back then. I could ask ‘em. They owe us, don’t they?”

“They do, but I’m not sure they’d appreciate us pointing it out,” Garam says. “I owe a lot of people for savin’ my sorry ass, but I’m less likely to get back to ‘em if they try and make me. You know what I’m saying, right?” Yoyo snorts in amusement. I’m sure he has a deeper understanding of Garam’s statement than the rest of us do combined.

“We could make him one?” Piranha suggests.

“We could…” Gum doesn’t sound convinced, though, and after a moment, she sighs. “I’m not sure we’d exactly meet the standard, though. I don’t want to make it worse, either.”

“I say we just borrow one from a drugstore and never bring it back,” Yoyo says, and I feel as though I have somehow taught him something out here. They grow up so fast. “I bet I could pull it off, yo.”

Despite myself, despite everything, I smile, and finally, I decide to speak up. “Someone make sure to go on that heist with him, or he may wind up needing that brace himself.”

The clatter of them standing is immediate as Gum calls, “Beat!”

All of my attempts to insist that they should stay where they are, I’m only awake, it’s not that big of a deal, may as well be spoken to brick walls. The gang surrounds me, and they murmur words of sheer relief, sitting on the table, on the ground, against the couch. I’m surprised when Yoyo sits close and holds onto my hand, which is wrapped in bandages of its own. He’s shaking, which is even more surprising to me. The kid’s always trying to act so tough, and he’s shaking...I guess I’ve been his brother out here. I guess I scared him. My bad...I give my grip a pulse over his, hoping it may comfort him, and he answers quietly with, “I knew I should’ve said something last week…”

About my knee? I sigh bitterly. “Come on, man, it’s not your job to know these things.”

“I could’ve at least…” He gently rubs his temple with his free hand. “I don’t know, saved you some scars.” I don’t think I would’ve listened to him, even if he’d warned me, but I don’t say so. Searching for something more productive to bring up, he mutters, “I guess they add to your street cred in the end, right?”

I shrug in response. I’m not too worried about scarring. “They were just a couple of scratches, y’know? No big deal.”

He skeptically raises an eyebrow. “Scratches? The depth of that one on your elbow could be measured with a ruler, yo.”

Yeah, and it still hurts like nobody’s business, but we’re not keeping score on it, are we? I’d like to think not. “Well, next time I elbow a cop in the nose, I’ll ask him the depth. See what he tells me. Until then, don’t worry yourself about it. It’s just blood, you know? I have a lot of it.”

He manages a grin, though it’s strained. “Yeah, and you got it everywhere.”

“Well, this platform needed a paint job anyway.”

He laughs, and it sounds genuine. My heart feels a little lighter with that.

“So. How are you feeling?” Cube asks anxiously. I can feel all of their eyes on me, I can feel a warmth from it amidst their fears, and while I do appreciate their concern, I can’t help but feel as though they’re overreacting a little. Or maybe they aren’t. They’ve never seen me like this before. It’s been a long, long time since I shot myself this badly in the foot, so to speak. It’s a heavy weight to bear. I don’t like the weakness seeping through me, I regret making them worry like this. I suppose, however, it beats suffering alone out here.

“A little better, but I’m not sure that’s saying much. There really wasn’t anywhere lower to go.” It still hurts, though I try not to say so. I wish we had something stronger on hand to numb the pain, but if we did, I’d have it by now. There’s no sense in making this worse for any of us than it already is. I try to stay still. “No one had to wait for me, you know.”

“We know, but we didn’t have to get lost, either,” Cube points out. “We’ve had some fun killing time. Don’t worry about us.” If she says so. It’s been a while since we’ve all just chilled around the Garage together. I wish I could’ve joined ‘em. Maybe some other time. I suppose I’ll be hanging around the Garage fairly often while I recover. I’ll probably get sick of it, won’t I?

“How long have you been up?” Gum asks

I try to pinpoint an answer to that question, but it evades me. “I’ve been on and off.” I mean that fairly literally, I guess. A stranger may as well have been flicking my consciousness on and off like a light switch, there was no real rhyme or rhythm, simply on, and off, and on...

“Well, you needed the rest. You’ll need a lot more, too.”

Right...I find myself whispering, “Two months, huh?” I hear a collective sigh in response. Maybe they’d been hoping to break that to me a little more gently. No point in that, I don’t think. “So be it…”

“We’re just glad you’re alright, man,” Corn tells me. “Gum said you nearly fell off the statue’s head. Not sure what we would’ve done if we’d lost you like that…”

“Is that why you guys are so freaked out?” I find myself wondering aloud. The response is mixed, some nods, some shrugs, some looks of ambivalence.

Corn tries to gauge a proper response from the reaction, but in the end, he only shrugs his shoulders too. “You fucked yourself up pretty bad. Do we need any other reason?” he says. “It it were anybody else on that couch, you’d be upset too.”

I have no argument for that. He’s right. Fair enough. “Well, I’m not dead yet,” I say. With that, I try to sit myself up. My body does not agree with this plan, and almost instantly I’m hit by the physical equivalent of an irritating, high pitched whining noise. I’m sore as hell, my muscles ache and protest, I find myself lurching sideways, a gasp escapes me before locking in my throat.

Yoyo’s arm wraps around my back, I feel Gum’s hand fall in between my shoulder blades. When my good hand reaches outward, Mew takes it, I hear her murmur under her breath, “Up you get.” With their help, it’s simple, though I find myself darkly pointing out it should be simple without their help, too. Already, I’m breathless, and I haven’t actually done anything. What a pain...

I’m very careful as I swing my legs over the couch. Surprisingly, nobody tells me to stop, nobody tells me not to, though I can feel the tension in the air as they watch. And yet, not a word is said about it. I can’t help but think, they have to know how I feel about all this. Even as my muscles plead for stillness, I keep myself going, because if I don’t, well, then what am I doing out here? I hate being bound down, I hate being useless, I hate having nothing to do, but ultimately, more than anything else, I hate being powerless. I refuse to be powerless. I refuse to stay down. Even if I’m only sitting up, there’s power in that. There’s a sense of control.

I finally feel as though I’m awake. I’m alright if that hurts a little.

I’m maneuvering my wounded leg to the ground as carefully as humanly possible, but all the care in the world isn’t doing me any favours. I shouldn’t bend it, the bandages do at least what they can to hold me to that, but it isn’t easy, nowhere near as easy as it should be. Still, I get there, and then I decide to stand, as well. I dig my fingers into the couch arm and test my good leg tentatively. It’s stiff and I think it hates me, as the rest of me does, but it might cooperate, if it wants to. That’s nice of it, I guess. I force my weight forward. For a moment, it seems that it’ll be okay, it seems stable enough. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last, and I’m sharply met a second later with a sharp needle to the side and a full body lurch. Mew and Yoyo are the only ones who are able to keep it from ending in disaster as they grab onto either shoulder and pull me back down. I groan as I rest my forehead against my right knee, as I shudder against the chill of the night and the sharp ache of my body. “Son of a…”

“Beat...” Piranha begins, likely speaking on everybody’s behalf. I know what she’s about to say before she says it. “Maybe you should stay there for a while. Get some shut-eye, try not to overdo it.”

I grimace. I have nothing against the couch, but... “I…” I should. I really should lie down, I know that, I just...A breath escapes me. I think it’s supposed to be laughter, but it sounds more like a cry for help. It could be. I don’t know. “...There’s still a lot to do.”

“Isn’t there always?” Jazz sighs, more to herself than anything.

“You can leave it to us, you know,” Cube assures me, though I can hear her sympathy. She’s lead a group herself, after all. She has to know what this is like, right? “We’ve got it covered.”

I’m sure they do, but I still hate it. “Then what am I supposed to do?!” I snap. I don’t mean to snap. I’m not angry at her, or any of them, there’s just no other way for the question to come out, because it’s a question that means a lot to me right now. I don’t know the answer. I genuinely do not know, and it’s freaking me out. I can’t even stand, how am I supposed to do what needs to be done out here?! “Am I supposed to just sit here?! I can’t do that! You know I can’t!” I can’t sit down and watch the days go by and feel good about myself or about anything, it just isn’t who I am, and they all know it.

“Then go ahead and try to do anything more.” The words are Gum’s, and they hit me like a kick in the stomach. “If you wind up crippled for life, then there was no point to any of this. You have to know that.”

“For fuck's sake, of course I do!” With that outburst, I reel into myself, I stare uselessly at the ground, my fingers digging into my jeans. I do know. I do, I just... “Why now…?” There’s never a good time for anything like this, but we’re in the middle of winter, and we all need each other now more than ever. I don’t want to slow anybody down. We have no room here for a deadweight, and that’s all I am like this.

“Man, it’s alright…” Yoyo sounds a little heartbroken for me. I don’t really know what else to say to any of them. I can’t even stand on my own, and they know it. They just saw it. It’s pathetic...

“Doesn’t feel alright” I admit, and nobody seems to know how to comfort me. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I like to do things, but there’s nothing I can do…

Damnit...!

I hear footsteps make their way through the crowd we have gathered. They’re the only sound that dares to break the silence, and a figure forms in front of me “Yo, Beat.” Combo quietly crouches so that we’re at eye level, and even if I’m in a rather rotten place right now, I give him the courtesy of my attention. He smirks. “Listen. I’ve offered you a place on my couch a few times before.” Before I can immediately tell him no, he cuts me off by saying, “Hear me out, alright? You’re already feeling like shit, and nothing’s even going down on our turf yet. Even when something does, you’ll be stuck here. If there’s nothing you can do, then I think it’d do you some good to get away from all this for a while. What good is sitting, staring, and feeling sorry for yourself gonna accomplish?” He’s...he’s not wrong. I grit my teeth together and sigh. He knows that he’s getting through to me, I guess, as he continues, “We’ll keep things running here, you know that Corn and Gum can handle this shit in your place, and I’ll keep you updated while you focus on recovery.”

I stare at the tile as I halfheartedly say, “I wouldn’t want to impose.” I can’t think of any way I’d be able to pay him back if I can’t even move without help.

Surprisingly, he just laughs it off. “Hey, I don’t mind. It’ll be a little less lonely there with you around.” He carefully slaps my shoulder, making sure it isn’t the wounded one before he does. “C’mon, even a couple of days should work wonders. You’ll be back in no time, but only if you take the time to get better first.”

I force myself to look up, to take in everybody’s glance. There seems to be unanimous agreement with this plan, so I can hardly say no, can I? I don’t feel good about it, I really don’t, but I feel myself relenting. There really is nothing I can do out here like this.

“Don’t get too comfortable without me, alright, guys?” I’d hate to be left behind like this...

“Oh, don’t worry. After two weeks of Yoyo and Garam’s bullshit? We’ll be begging for you to come take your spot back,” Corn says.

Yoyo practically cackles. “Sweet! This’ll be like staying home without my parents around!”

I slowly, deviously find myself smirking. “Oh, I’m the parent now? I thought you had that thing in your head about Gum and-”

“Hey! You said we weren’t going to talk about that, yo!”

“Me and…?” Gum is glaring so hard in his direction, I swear that she’ll bore a hole through him if she continues.

“Yoyo, please do me a favor and behave,” I conclude. My shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, a nice change from how I felt only moments before.

“That wasn’t cool,” he mutters, and Garam slaps his back so hard he nearly faceplants.

“We’ll keep everything in check. It’ll all look the same when you get back, so take your time,” Gum promises me, and there’s something very reassuring about the way she says it. I find myself feeling just a little bit better, and that’s really all I can ask for.

“Hey, if you’re housebound, maybe I’ll stop by with a few books,” Jazz offers. “I’d think you would listen to enough music to respect poetry, right?”

I think so. I’ve never tried it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to. “That’d be great.” I’m sure it won’t be long before I’m bored out of my mind. I’ll need something to do.

“I’ll talk to Rapid 99, see if we can get you a leg brace,” Cube promises. “It’s the least they can do, right? And if we need to take more drastic measures for crutches, well, I guess we can leave that to Yoyo…”

“I am totally cool with stealing shit, yo,” he agrees, and in his excitement, he misses Cube quietly whispering “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get himself killed” while making a quiet cutthroat motion.

“Thanks.” It’s all I can think to say. I don’t really want to go anywhere, but at least I know that I won’t be isolated, and at least I won’t be bringing them down by staying here. I never wanted to hit a point where that was even a possibility. “I...I’m sorry…”

“It happens,” Combo says. “You’re always takin’ care of our problems, so leave this one to us for a change.”

There’s nothing for me to say except “Alright.” Anything else, and I wouldn’t be giving them the respect they deserve. This is my team, after all. I trust them.

But I’m still not going anywhere on my own like this. There’s a moment of discomfort, one that exists only for me, before I finally swallow my pride and murmur, “Combo, can I borrow your shoulder?”

He smiles. “Gonna insist on walking?” I nod, even as he frowns in disapproval. He has already done enough for me to day. All I need now is something to lean on. I stand by that. “You’re so stubborn.”

I sigh. “Look, I’m asking for your help. Isn’t that enough?”

“We don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I know, I know…” I sigh. He continues to stare, waiting for me to back down, up until I say, “Look, I’m not gonna let you carry me.”

“I already did once.”

I rub my temples. “Yeah, I know, and my pride’s still recovering.” It isn’t his fault, it really isn’t. I know I’m being difficult, I just... “Look, I’m not very good at this, alright?” My words catch in my throat. God, I hate to admit it. I hate to fucking admit it, but here goes nothing: “I can’t stand asking for help, but I need you right now. I’m useless like this, so please…”

“Everybody take a mental snapshot of this moment, for we may never see anything like it as long as we live,” Jazz announces, and even I have it in me to accept that shot at my expense. It’s true.

“Hey, if everything goes well, you’ll never have to,” I point out sadly. “We don’t want another moment like this, but for now, I...I need help...”

Hearing the strain in my voice, Combo doesn’t push me any further. He positions himself against my side and allows me to lean against him, keeping an arm round me for support. Even my good leg wavers under its many stresses, but with his help, it at least holds. I am still exhausted, I note. I’ll need more sleep.

“You ready to go?” he asks when I seem sturdy. I cast a glance down at my footing before I nod. My injured leg is off the ground, and I’m trusting him not to let me fall here. Before we can move, I cast the rest of the gang a cursory final look. It feels almost scary. I’ll see them again, I tell myself forcefully. I will. Everything will be fine. I can count on them for that. I’ve always been able to before. “You guys take care, alright?” I say. “I’ll be back.”

I receive a chorus of smiles and reassurance.

“Later, dude!”

“Get some rest. You need it.”

“We’re gonna wreck some police shit in your name, yo!”

“Please don’t wreck any more shit than you usually do…”

“We’ll keep you posted.”

“Don’t forget about us, okay?”

“Mew, I think you’re the last person on Earth anyone would forget about…”

“He won’t be gone that long, anyway…”

I close my eyes, letting a sense of contentment sink in. They’ll be fine, and I…

I guess I need this, don’t I?

I feel as though I’ve been racing from place to place for years now. I’ve hardly even had the time to take everything in…

Maybe I can finally use this time to slow down. I haven’t slept indoors in so long, I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.

Everybody sees me off at the alley

As we turn away, Yoyo catches my sleeve, forcing me to look back. He smiles sheepishly, and in his hand, he holds my shades. I don’t know how I nearly forgot them, but he clearly didn’t. Maybe it’s because back then, we didn’t forget about his, either. I smile, and I put them on before the others can see the tears that begin to form in my eyes. They’ve already seen enough of that for one day...

We watch them as they wave. We wave back, and I think they continue to wave until we’re out of sight. Hopefully, they’ll stop by soon…

With the emotional hurdle cleared, Combo and I start for his home.