Chapter Text
It’s an unusually cold morning that Querl returns to the Legion. The trees around Weisinger Plaza are barren, their branches reaching up like bony hands towards the low hanging sun, as if to grasp it. He shudders, drawing his thin coat closer around himself. Though it has been more than a year since his metamorphosis, the cold still takes him by surprise, biting and rough against his face and exposed hands in a way it never quite was when it was merely a projected sensation. He pushes his hands deep into his pockets as he crosses the deserted plaza. This new form feels everything so intensely, every emotion and sensation raw and new, as if he’d spent his entire life living behind a veil that had suddenly been ripped away. Time has tempered the impact somewhat, but he’s not the same—and he doubts he will ever be.
He doesn’t even make it all the way to the door before it slides open, revealing the tall figure of Nura. She doesn’t seem the least bit affected by the early hour and cold wind, as radiant as ever. He lets her envelope him in her arms for a brief moment. She’d been unsurprised when he’d first contacted her about rejoining the Legion, so sure in her predictions that the idea that she could ever have been surprised by his call seemed to never have crossed her mind. Nevertheless, she did welcome him back, confident enough in her new role as the team’s leader to do so seemingly without any kind of vote or additional feedback. ‘We’ve all missed you’ she had said, as foolishly confident as ever.
“Welcome back,” she says now, close to his ear. She lets go of him and steps back, motioning for him to follow her down the corridor towards the centre of the building.
“Thank you. I take it you're well?” He swallows dryly, tries to push back against the wave of thoughts and sensations in his mind. Against the familiar sounds and smells, and the unfamiliar way he’s feeling them.
“I am.” Nura cocks her head, studying him with bright, captivating eyes that he still finds it hard to look into for more than a brief second. “How has being human treated you?” A short, dry laugh forces its way out of his throat, sounding more like a cough than actual laughter.
“I- That was a very imprecise description of my condition at the time, and continues to be so. The form I’ve taken on may obfuscate that I am no more human than I was before, although I am far more organic than in my previous form.” Nura hums, perhaps in agreement.
“And how has it been?”
“It’s been fine. I’m fine. It’s of no concern and I will not let it affect my performance here.” It’s been lonely and complicated and he didn’t know where else to go any more. He turns away from Nura, pretending to study the utterly uninteresting wall of the corridor in lieu of watching her reaction. There are, as much as he hates to admit it, areas where Nura’s abilities far exceed his own; Understanding people is one of them, and she has probably already understood everything there is to understand about him. But despite that she remains mercifully quiet for once.
They eventually reach Nura’s office, the same one that had been used by every Legion leader before her. He had not voted for her, it would have felt wrong to even ask to participate in the election after what he had done, but her victory had been unsurprising, a logical conclusion based on her temperament and performance. Even the office, usually cluttered and messy despite how seldom it had been used, appears to have been cleaned up and refreshed under her reign. It has become a bright and well-organised space furnished with sleek and presumably very expensive furniture, in some ways a mirror image of its new mistress. Nura motions for him to sit down in one of the room’s two chairs, both round and made out of bright chrome and white leather, before herself sitting down in the other one.
“Brainy, I’m happy to have you back. I want you to know that.” She’s smiling, but there’s a stiffness to it. “And I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened last year, but your ancestor caused a lot of harm and some people are, understandably, still upset and wary because of it.” He looks down, away, anywhere but at her. “I’ve spoken with the team, and we have determined that it would be best if you refrained from active duty for the time being. You can train with the rest of the team and work in the lab, but everyone needs to feel like they can trust you before I can allow you to partake in real missions.”
A wave of nauseous hits him, crawling up his throat. He wants to protest. Wants to tell her that he would never have done anything like that if there was any other option, that he’d never want to hurt any of them. But he doesn’t, because she’s correct, because his regrets and excuses will do little to change the past.
“Also…” Nura chews her lower lip, eyes that had been looking at him so intently flickering away for a second. “I appreciate your abilities and your intellect. You have been a wonderful addition to the team for a long time and I don’t doubt your usefulness through those years, but considering your recent… transformation, I’m not sure if field duty will be the right choice for you, even once you return to active duty.”
Oh. The nausea is replaced by a sinking feeling in his chest, a cavity like a black hole tethering on the edge of collapsing in on itself. He opens his mouth, his throat dry, too dry to speak through. Nura looks at him once more and there’s pity in her gaze, like she’s looking down at a small, wounded animal that she knows will never recover from its injuries.
“I’m sorry if that came out of nowhere, I thought you should know. You’re more than welcome to stay, but I figured you might want to know what that entails before you commit to it.”
“I see,” he manages to press out, almost choking on his own throat. His voice sounds pathetic, weak and tinged with far more emotion than he ever intended it to have. His face feels hot. He has to fight the emotions back down, like he’s spent months training to do, struggling so much harder against them than he ever had to before, all while Nura looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s trying to accomplish.
“I really am sorry, I wish there was another way, but I have to do what’s best for the team.” He wishes her words were crueller, her gaze harder and more demanding. But it is not. It’s as understanding as she’s ever been, filled with the wisdom of someone who understands her role and herself far more thoroughly than most would suspect, even as it hides behind a façade of ease and superficiality.
He knows he cannot fault the team for distrusting him. That he has no right to expect their forgiveness, much less demand it. But they must surely have noticed his absence? He’d asked Vi to take care of all lab-related duties while he was gone, but she is, despite her above average intellectual capabilities, in no way comparable to him. All he has to do is prove that he can keep up with his duties just as well as before, that he is still of use to them, and they will have to come around sooner or later. That’s all he has to do. He doesn’t need to be his old self to do that.
“Querl?” Nura asks, reaching out to gently touch his knee. He jerks away.
“Sorry, yes, I still want to remain with the team.”
“Good, I’m glad.” She smiles again. It’s almost convincing this time. “Your room has been refinished to be more suitable for a person with, well, actual physical needs, but your belongings should still be there.”
She stands up and he scrambles to follow her.
“Vi will fill you in about everything else, she should be in the rec room right about now.” Querl nods, hesitating for a moment.
“… Thank you.”
“Don’t think about it. Welcome home.”