Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Etho knows that he's been getting fed up with the Agency for a while.

Some of the things that they've made him do over the years... shallow at best, just plain cruel at worst. Honestly, he's been planning to leave for a while now. A little over a year, actually. He's been slowly withdrawing, tying up loose ends for the day when he would pull the trigger and finally, finally just quit.

He had never known when that day would come, if it ever would. He's not quite sure why he stayed so long after he finished preparing. Maybe it was the friends he's made, or the memories he'd be losing. Or maybe it was hope that things would change. Or, well, maybe it was fear of change.

Either way, it doesn't matter. Because he's leaving today.

Yesterday had been his breaking point. The last straw. Final nail in the coffin. However you want to say it, today he was done for good. The way Joel had looked at him yesterday... God, he didn't even want to think about it. So, instead, he packs up his things, leaves a simple note in his office, returns his badge to the cabinet it came from, and he leaves with no plans to come back in the morning.

He's never felt so free in his life. He's also never felt so close to having a panic attack.

It'll be worth it. He knows that. The Agency's reaction when they find out he's left — oh, he almost wishes he could be there to watch. He'll have to get Scar to tell him everything. It's almost enough to distract him from the fallout that's sure to occur.

On the way home, though, there's nothing left to distract him. No doors to lock, badges to leave, friends to inform, et cetera. He's stuck with his thoughts. And right now, his thoughts were all about Joel. Much like they had been for, what, the past month?

However, his thoughts this time around weren't exactly pleasant like they had been in the past.

Yesterday had been a pretty big day for the rest of the world, and that's putting it lightly. The Agency's most recent mission had just been revealed, going public with the scheme. And the public itself hasn't exactly been reacting well thus far. The mission itself had been a raging success, like most of the missions are — an incredible amount of new information had been discovered and hundreds of stolen items had been recovered, all as a direct result.

That, though, is not the part people are upset with. It was more about how they'd gotten all that information.

The Agency had sent someone undercover to befriend a villain, infiltrate their ranks, and come out of it with the most information possible. It had been a several week long operation, and it had ended in a full-blown, intense battle directly in front of the Agency's Headquarters, in perfect view for all to watch as things unfolded in real time. Usually, Etho wouldn't be so fussed with a case like this. Sure, it was inherently problematic and unnecessarily messy, but, these days, so were the rest of the Agency's proposals. This one was just a little more open about it than usual.

Unfortunately, though, Etho was a little more involved this time. One of his newest friends had been the undercover hero the Agency had sent out, and she was the one facing most of the backlash. Of course, he's going to be there for her. And then there was Joel, the one that had been betrayed in all of this. He hadn't spoken to Joel in weeks, and yet, somehow, where Joel was involved, so was Etho.

He's not sure how he got so tangled up in all this, if he's honest. He'd been trying to stay out of it specifically.

That was, in hindsight, probably the exact problem. He hadn't warned Joel about the consequences that were sure to hit him. He hadn't given Gem advice about how to navigate the murky waters that the Agency was quickly becoming. He had just stood back and watched as it all went down.

It was the wrong thing to do. It was the kind of thing the Agency would do. And he really, truly did regret it — but regret is one of those things that are often too little, too late. And it's definitely too late now, so he's stuck driving home alone with the memory of Joel yelling at him fresh in his mind. There's not even any radio to distract him, because every single station is talking about the exact situation he's trying to ignore.

The fallout had been particularly bad over the last 24 hours, if that isn't clear.

Podcast episodes are already churning out at the speed of light, all titled things like Why Stratos Was In The Right All Along and The Agency Is Lying To Us. The hashtag AgencyHateTrain was trending everywhere. Already, Etho's been contacted multiple times for interviews, from sites ranging from professional to sketchy. (The dating rumours between him and Joel were at an all time high, too. Etho's been doing his best to ignore that.)

It's all been nothing but a disaster. Etho can't begin to imagine how Gem must be feeling — she's the one that was actually involved.

The more that he thinks about it all, the more confident he is in his decision to leave the Agency. It had been the right choice. He can easily picture what he would be doing right now if he were still a part of all that. The levels of damage control needed... He shudders just thinking about it. Poor Gem, he thinks for the millionth time that day.

Now that he's thinking about it, though, it's probably smart to still do a little bit of damage control — just not on the Agency's behalf, this time. He has to announce his leaving somehow, preferably before people find out on their own. There are already a few people that know about him leaving, of course. Cleo, Gem, Scar, a couple other hero friends that he'd had. Would it seem cheap if he got one of them to announce it for him?

The subject plagues his mind for the rest of the day, but, both luckily and unluckily, he doesn't have to think about it for too much longer — because the Agency does it for him, putting out an article on their news site. Etho reads it that night. It's surprisingly long, despite the fact that it gets straight to the point. It's also, excuse the language, full of shit — repeatedly distorting the truth and even completely making up aspects.

Etho doesn't know why he's surprised. This is what they always do, make out everyone else to be the villain in their stories. Nevermind that he had worked with them for years, now that he's gone, he's a lying traitor and he always has been, apparently.

The world, to their credit, seems to not believe much of it, when Etho checks the response that the article was getting on various social media sites. The hold the Agency has on everything is slipping, little by little.

And, suddenly, Etho knows exactly what he needs to do about it.

Etho never does interviews. Ever.

Not for lack of requests, mind you. He'd had various opportunities over the years, offered by many different places. He had never accepted, for a variety of reasons. He likes his privacy, of course, and he never did this stuff for the fame, and he's always wanted to keep his personal life separate, et cetera, et cetera. The Agency had always tried to convince him to change his mind. Most, if not all, of the other heroes, they do interviews, public appearances, meet and greets, all of those kinds of things. Etho had never been a fan of it — it seemed superfluous and unnecessary.

In his mind, despite the fact that his job is inherently dangerous and comes with risks, he's just a regular person. The fact remains that, with the right training and tools, anyone could replace him, so there's no need for him to go around acting as if he was some sort of celebrity simply for working to keep the streets safe.

But now? Now is the right time. If not to inform everyone of exactly the kind of scum the Agency is, then at least to absolve himself of some of the guilt he felt whenever he thought back to that night.

(Over the years, Joel has looked at him in a lot of different ways. Loathing, usually. Occasionally desire. Or indifference. But he had never once looked at him like he did that day. It's been haunting Etho.)

He knows, though, that he has to be clever about this. The place that he eventually chooses to work with will have to be fully aware of what he wanted to do and prepared for every aspect of it, including the inevitable backlash coming from the Agency itself. It needs to be somewhere that will ask all the right questions and didn't just go with the flimsy, frivolous stuff.

That's what he wants. Needs, even. But it is not what he gets.

He thinks he's found the best option — Watchers Enterprise, it's called. It has a pretty good rep, if a little superficial. But hey, nothing would be absolutely perfect. Admittedly, the corporation had been involved in some pretty sketchy stuff a few years back. For a while, people were convinced that it was a front for some underground cult. However, that had since been disproven and set aside, so Etho was trying to keep an open mind.

A pretty famous villain had come from that whole situation actually, now that he thinks about it. What had been his name again? Xelqua? He'd been missing for years, though — a few people thought he may have rebranded and continued his life of crime under a different name, but in Etho's professional opinion, that was nothing but a conspiracy theory gone wild.

Anyways, all of that was besides the point. 

He had chosen Watchers Enterprise in the first place because of how vocal they've been about their (extremely negative) opinion of the Agency over the last week or so. They've been gaining a lot of traction in the media for it, and they brought up valid concerns (as well as... more irrelevant points, but those are, again, things that he's choosing to set aside) so when Etho gets an interview request, he decides to accept.

It was a mistake.

The interviewer, a blonde woman with a sharp haircut and red, red lips, was completely shallow and had asked him nothing but the questions he had been hoping to avoid. Now, he cringes even just to think about it — it had gone against quite literally everything he stood for. She had asked him about his favourite food. Favourite clothing brand. Does he have any pets? Things like What's really going on with you and Stratos? Oh, come on, you can tell us. Don't play dumb now!

It had been infuriating and uncomfortable and it took all his patience not to leave the second she'd started asking all of those questions. Instead, he'd had to sit through it all, just smiling and nodding away. God, how had the other heroes done that so often?

He left slightly discouraged and incredibly annoyed, wondering whether he really is the only one that cared about the truth around here.

The video had gone live a mere few days later. Reactions ranged from a widespread disappointment due to the the lack of Agency talk (which Etho is also disappointed about) and excitement thanks to this being the first interview that he's ever given.

Etho's pretty much given up on the whole idea of coming out with his own side of the story when he gets a message from some company that he's never heard of before. S. Group Incorporated. Just from a quick Google search, Etho learns that they've been anti-Agency for years and years, clearly not just jumping on the sudden hate-train. They seem pretty legit, even with several news articles about them to back them up.

The person that had reached out to him used the name Pearl, which, for some reason, reminds him quite a bit of Gem's name. Both shiny things, he supposes. It takes him a day or so of hesitation, but then he decides to respond back, asking about more details. This time, he makes sure not to agree to anything before getting the full picture. Eventually, though, he does end up agreeing. He's got to get this story out there somehow, and a professional video like they're suggesting seemed as good as anything. Besides, Pearl seems genuine.

The day before he goes to meet with them, however, he texts Gem for a favour. 

At 3:22 pm, Etho gets in his car. It takes him ten minutes to actually get up the nerve to stop staring at the steering wheel and start it. Another thirty to drive. Four more minutes to muster up the courage to step out.

At 4:06 pm, Etho knocks on Joel's door.

His heart is beating so fast that he thinks it may fall out of his chest. He's imagined about fifty different ways this conversation could go and, even with his forty-four minutes of panicking, he still is not prepared for any of them.

The person who opens the door and ends his suffering, however, is not Joel. Instead, it's a man with dirty blond hair, rectangular glasses, and a dark red hoodie, entirely unfamiliar. The man looks Etho up and down once, nose wrinkled as if in disgust, before slamming the door shut right in his face.

Etho frowns to himself. Well, that wasn't very nice.

Was this not the right place? He'd asked Gem for the address — that was the favour he'd called in — but had she sent him the wrong address or something? But no, that couldn't be right, because that man had looked at him like he knew him. Despised him, sure, but definitely like he knew him.

He doesn't have to contemplate over this for long, however, because almost as soon as the door shuts, he can hear yelling from inside the apartment. His eyes widen. These walls seem to be really thin.

"Joel!" a voice Etho doesn't recognize yells. Presumably the man that had just slammed the door. "Another one of your heroes is here." There's barely contained malice in his voice, and Etho winces with the venom that the words are said with.

He hears a suspicious silence on the other side of the wall. And then: "What does he want?" Joel's voice  — Etho recognizes it right off the bat, even through the muffled sound that comes with listening through walls. He could recognize that voice in his sleep. A familiar reaction, his heart drops into his stomach when he hears it.

An exaggerated sigh from the other voice. "I didn't ask him."

Pause. "Two heroes in one day," a new voice comments, not one of the previous two. "You really got these guys wrapped around your finger."

Joel snorts, muttering something that Etho can't quite decipher. He hears shuffling and then — the door opens, and, this time, it's Joel that opens it. Etho's breath catches, like it always does.

Joel looks at him, seemingly entirely unimpressed. "What?" he says flatly.

Etho clears his throat. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. No emotion whatsoever, a completely neutral face. It was so unlike Joel (so unlike the rage that he'd shown in front of Headquarters that day) that he almost wants to laugh. He does not laugh. Instead, he says, voice wavering, "Uh — hi." He resists the urge to cringe. There were a million different things he had wanted to say at that exact moment and uh, hi is what he went for. Of course.

Joel does not so much as blink. "You better have something better to say than that."

"I do!" he says quickly, before his face warms up a little with the embarrassment of coming off so eager. He is eager, yes, but that's not something that Joel needs to know. He coughs. "I mean, I do."

"Gem did this much better!" someone shouts at him from inside, recognizable as the man that had opened the door first. 

Etho's frown deepens. So now he's being heckled? He leans in a little closer to Joel, lowering his voice slightly. "Can we go somewhere a little more... private?" He tries hard to keep any semblance of annoyance out of his voice, because he's sure these are Joel's friends, and irritating them probably wouldn't be good considering that he's here to try and make amends.

A ghost of a smile plays on Joel's lips. "No."

If Joel wasn't finally having a reaction to something, Etho's sure that this would have annoyed him more. Right now, though, all he can find it in himself to be is relieved. "Alright," he says, before clearing his throat again. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I know I hurt you. I know that I made mistakes. And I regret them, I really do.
 He takes a breath. "...If I could do it over, I would change everything."

Joel's face softens a little for the first time since he'd arrived. Etho feels a small tinge of hope, but then Joel shakes his head, like he's trying to snap out of it. "You're just saying that."

"I left the Agency," he reminds him, his own voice soft to make up for the harshness of Joel's. "Lying would get me nowhere, Joel. And you know that I wouldn't lie to you anyways."

"You can't charm your way out of this!" a voice calls out.

"I'm not trying to," Etho says, defensiveness creeping into his tone as he looks over Joel's shoulder into the apartment. There's no response, so he turns his attention back to Joel. "Listen, Joel, I haven't once stopped thinking about you since we talked in the park. Long before that, actually. And I know I didn't handle that conversation well, and I should've warned you about the Agency, or stopped Gem, or, at least, been on your side when you tried to fight us." 

Joel does not reply.

Etho takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, okay? That's all I wanted to say. If you want to talk, well, you know where to find me."

That's all he says before he leaves. He does not wait to see Joel's response. He does not linger to try and overhear what the three of them have to say about him when he's gone. He does not look back. If he had, he might've seen Joel staring at him as he turns. He might've heard them muttering about forgiveness and other things Etho didn't quite deserve.

If he had, his day might've ended much differently.

Chapter Text

Gem was unhappy.

Actually, unhappy doesn't even begin to describe her state of being right now.

She was miserable. Guilty. Overworked. Exhausted. Anxious. Hopeless. Completely unraveling.

She couldn't tell you when she started feeling like this if you pointed a gun to her head and demanded it. It had been going on for about as long as she could remember.

And over the past few weeks, it had gotten even worse. She hadn't known it was even possible for it to get worse.

But it had. Somehow, it had.

It wasn't fair. She finally had practically everything she had wanted. Ever wanted. She was feared and respected and she should love it.

She really wished she loved it.

But it's hard to love something when that same something is the reason you lost some of the first real friends you've had in years. When it's the reason half the world hated you. When it's the reason you literally could not sleep at night.

Everyone despised her except for the die-hard Agency fans and the Agency itself. Not exactly the people she wanted to befriend.

She learned that power and friendship don't really go hand in hand. Back when she was a nobody, everyone at the Agency loved her. Now the only people she still talked to were Scar and Etho.

She thinks she understands what those two meant now. When they said power isn't everything. She gets it.

But friends were the least of her problems.

Yesterday, the Agency had come out with their undercover plan that she had been the main catalyst in.

If she had to pinpoint the moment where everything started going wrong, it would probably be the morning the news went public.

Less than twelve minutes after, something had popped up on Gem's radar, dangerously close to HQ.

Obviously, she immediately had gone out with her sword at the ready, prepared for a fight. She had not been at all, however, prepared for who she was fighting.

Joel. Stratos, whatever you wanted to call him. She had known the moment was coming where she would have to face him but she hadn't been ready for it to be so soon.

But Gem didn't want to think about that night right now.

She had everything. Respect, admiration, she had it all. She'd been working for this very thing for years, she deserved to be happy about it.

(She did deserve it... right?)

People got hurt all the time in this... line of business. Why did she have to be the only one who felt guilty? It wasn't fair. No one else cared about the people they hurt.

Was thinking that selfish? It felt selfish.

God, she just wanted to live her life. But every time she closed her eyes she saw Joel's face and the people on the internet telling her what a horrible person she was and everyone who ever told her she wasn't cut out for the life of a hero.

The worst part was that she was starting to agree.

She was a terrible person. The things that she did were despicable, even if she did have no choice in the matter. The way she came into this power of hers was downright villainous. And the fact that she craved more was probably the most damning of all.

...

Etho had left the Agency today.

It was almost embarrassing how nervous the thought of being alone made her.

Etho had always been there. Always. Since the day she had joined. And he was one of the only people who were sticking by her side.

It was going to be torture being at Headquarters now.

Without Etho diffusing the tension, cracking god-awful jokes, making conversations easier in that awkward way of his, she was going to be alone.

Well, not alone.

She still had Scar, and she was friendly with a couple of the tech guys, but- her and Etho, that was different. They were real friends, and she would never say it to his face, but she would really miss him.

Now the Agency would be looking for people to replace Etho. Someone to take over his assignments and pick up the pieces he left behind.

Gem was going to be that person, she decided.

It was just the thing she would need. To really cement her place in as a real hero.

But Etho's shoes were big ones to fill. He had a loaded schedule, and, honestly, Gem is surprised he ever had any time left over for himself.

With that combined with her already crushing workload? It would be... a lot.

...I could just leave, she thinks one night. Now that would really be following in Etho's footsteps.

It's not a real idea. Even as she thinks it, she knows it's impossible. She had her whole life set on being a hero. All her stones in one basket, or whatever the saying is. She was counting on this.

She couldn't throw it all away like that. She just couldn't.

If that meant sometimes having to do things she didn't quite agree with... so be it.

There was a fine line, though. A line she decides she would never cross again. And that line was hurting her friends.

If the Agency ever asks her to do something like what she'd done to Joel, well, tough luck for them, because not happening.

This decision is what ends her up on Joel's doorstep at 2:03 pm Tuesday afternoon, a box of homemade cookies in her hands and an apology memorized in her head.

It's not enough. She knows that. But she hopes it'll be the first step.

Grian opens the door, which she was neither prepared for or expecting.

"Hi," she breathes out.

If looks could kill, she would be long gone. "You got a lot of nerve coming here," Grian says venomously.

She winces. "I brought cookies?" she says in hopes of lightening the mood.

The mood is very much un-lightened. "Probably poisoned, coming from you," he mutters.

"I deserved that," she says. Grian opens his mouth to say something but she stops him. "I want to apologize. And explain."

"Joel isn't here."

She tries again, undeterred. Grian could be stubborn but so could she. "Well, that's fine, because I also want to talk to you."

Grian pauses like this has actually taken him by surprise. "I'm not very keen on speaking to you right now either."

"Chocolate chip cookies," she reminds him, waving the box around.

Grian makes a face. "My favourites are actually–"

"Raisin," she finishes, trying very hard not to make a face at the grossness of raisin cookies. "I made those too."

He narrows his eyes at her. "Fine. You get ten minutes."

"Better than nothing," she says, following him inside.

"This better be good," Grian warns her.

"I've been thinking a lot about what I want to say," she says honestly. "Mostly just I'm sorry."

He rolls his eyes. "Because that fixes everything."

"It doesn't, I know," she says quickly. "It's still true, though."

Grian doesn't say anything back.

She takes a deep breath. "Look, I know I broke your trust. And Joel's, and Jimmy's. And I probably lost something here that I'll never get back."

She can't decipher the look on Grian's face. He had a very good poker face.

"I really regret it," she says finally. "And I never want to do something like that again."

"You couldn't have come to that conclusion earlier?" he asks dryly.

"I did," she reminds him. "I couldn't've told them nothing, you know? A month-long operation would've been wasted and they would've blamed me for it. But I tried to avoid the important things–"

"What?"

She hesitates, trying to understand. "Like, since I didn't tell them everything?" she says, unsure.

"You didn't tell them everything?" he repeats incredulously.

She sits up a little straighter. "You didn't know?"

"How would I know?"

She shrugs helplessly. "I just assumed–"

"What didn't you tell them?" he demands.

"All the important stuff!" she says. "No names, address–"

"Are you saying we don't have to move?"

She frowns. "Well, you should move, because this place is trash, but you don't have to."

Grian cheers, grinning. "I need to go unpack my stuff." He pauses, narrowing his eyes. "This does not mean you're forgiven," he clarifies.

"Good to know," she sighs.

Grian rolls his eyes like he's about to say something, but all of a sudden, the door swings open. Grian's mouth snaps shut.

Gem pointlessly hopes it's not Joel but, of course– it is.

He freezes when he sees her. Gem can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

No, no, no, this is not how this conversation was supposed to start.

They're all deadly silent for a moment. You could literally hear a pin drop — Gem's not even sure she's breathing.

She's waiting for the yelling, for the anger she saw the day the news came out.

It... doesn't come.

Joel, with great self-control, clearly, just shakes his head, hands in fists, and, albeit stiffly, walks straight past her and into a room.

...What?

Grian frowns, clearly as confused as her, which is somewhat reassuring. He stands up and, without another word, follows Joel into the room.

She shifts uncomfortably, no idea what to do. She doesn't want to make things worse by barging into a private conversation, but leaving would probably make things worse in a whole other way.

She just ends up waiting, pointedly not listening to the hushed conversation happening one wall away.

In a little while, just as she's getting uneasy enough to be debating whether she should actually leave or not, Grian steps out.

He blinks like he's surprised she's still here. "Gem."

"Hi," she says, feeling embarrassed which then feels so trivial considering what she's here for. "What, um, what'd he say?"

Grian shakes his head. She feels a wave of disappointment. "You should go. I'll- I'll talk to him, but you should definitely go."

She nods, face burning. "Okay. Yeah, okay. I do have a lot to say to him, you know, just-"

"Not today," he says with a note of finality.

"Okay," she mumbles. "See you, I guess."

She leaves, unsure how to feel about... anything.

She hadn't done what she'd set out to do, which was always a blow to her perfectionist self. On the other hand, she'd gotten a nice (?) talk with Grian. 1/3 wasn't bad.

Admittedly, he hadn't seemed totally cool with her, which was to be expected, but it was much better than actively wanting to murder her.

Now all she could do was wait.

Chapter Text

Scar was confused.

Well, to be fair, he spent a lot of time confused nowadays. Actually, pretty much his whole life he'd been confused about something or the other.

But it had been a lot recently.

It started with the Agency, like most of his problems usually did. It also involved Grian, like, again, most of his problems did.

Oh, don't get it wrong! He loved Grian. If he didn't, he wouldn't risk being with him in the first place. All jokes, all jokes, of course.

Grian could just be a little intense. Which, again, he loved! Usually.

See, here's the thing. Scar had been a little busy recently. Okay, maybe a little was an understatement. Maybe recently was a bit of an understatement as well.

For the past, what, two months, he'd been very occupied with assignments from the Agency. Out-of-town assignments, too. The Agency had him flying back and forth and back and forth, city to city.

Scar was starting to get a little sick of flying. And this was coming from the guy who spent most of his teen years trying to construct human wings.

Anyways, the human wings were a story for another day. (It had had a disastrous end, if you were wondering.)

The point is, Grian was starting to get a little irritated.

There are a lot of words that come to mind when Scar thinks of Grian. Patient, however, was not one of them.

You know, he had just watched a movie on his flight the other day that summed Grian up pretty well. Peter Pan, it was called. Not sure if you've heard of it.

Anyways, Grian was a lot like Tinkerbell. If you didn't give him attention, he just kinda... well, dies isn't the right word, but he sure acts like he's dying.

At best, he got a little cranky. At worst... well, he was Grian. You can imagine.

Actually, to Grian's credit, he had been pretty good with the whole working more than usual thing. Much better than Scar had expected. There were barely any snarky remarks on the nights he made it home!

(Obviously there were still a couple snarky remarks. It was Grian, after all.)

It's funny, Grian's problem with the whole thing hadn't really existed until a few weeks after it started.

It probably had something to do with the amount of things Scar was missing — or forgetting, or ruining.

It started small. Forgetting to call when he reached the hotel he was staying at.

Not a big deal. These things happen, Scar, don't apologize, Grian had said, because he was sweet and understanding like that.

...Usually.

Then it was a date he missed. Stupid gang in Chromia had decided to attack a second time, and, of course, he had to deal with it.

Grian had been much more annoyed at that one. Understandably, of course. Barely had even looked at him when he picked him up from the airport later — and Scar knew that must've taken a lot of work because all Grian had been saying that entire week was I miss you.

That incident had been bad enough. Scar would've been content to leave the extent of his mistakes there.

But then came the anniversary.

Brace yourself, this one would be painful.

The worst part, Scar had been in town that week. Yup. No airplanes or bandits to blame it on. He was in the Agency library, a short fifteen minute drive away, working on some stupid work thing the entire night.

Okay, wait, it's not as bad as it sounds. Grian and Scar celebrated a lot of different anniversaries together.

The anniversary of when they met. When they tried to kill each other for the first time. When they got that fish together. When that fish then died because Grian forgot to feed it because he was, ironically, busy fishing.

In Scar's defense, it was a lot to keep up with! He had always been the forgetful type.

But he had special reminders set in his phone, so he would never forget any of the silly anniversaries he loved so much.

Except for this year, clearly. And it was the one anniversary that mattered the most.

Yeah. That's right. It wasn't one of the fun, chill anniversaries. Nope. It was the anniversary of when they first got together. Their second anniversary.

...God, had it really been two years already? Scar could remember those days like they were yesterday.

Him and Grian had been on opposite sides of (pretty much) a war when they'd met, believe it or not. They were always trying to manipulate or murder or maim each other.

Ah, young love.

He was nearing the end of one of his first big projects, the GGI. Green Grass Initiative, that is. The Agency had asked him to be acting mayor of this smaller city for a little while, and his first decision as mayor was to get rid of the mycelium in the shopping district.

Enter Grian.

Leader of the Mycelium Resistance. Mother Spore. Guy who had too many villain aliases, whatever.

(No, but seriously, he was crazy indecisive. Mother Spore, Desert Bandit, Poultryman that one summer. Getting concerning.)

Whatever you called him, his goal was the same. Getting the attention of his long-time crush, aka the mayor, aka Scar!

Yup. It's true. Don't ask Grian about this, because he will just deny it vehemently, but the only reason he came up with the Mycelium Resistance was to get Scar's attention.

It was definitely not about the integrity of the thing, like he'd been claiming for years. No one fought that hard for such an ugly colour of grass.

But if it were to be someone, it would definitely be Grian. That man was stubborn as a mule.

God, Scar loved him.

He'd really screwed things up bad.

Missing their two-year anniversary, that was completely unjustifiable. Especially since he was so close. 15 minutes away from the person he loved more than anyone in the world, waiting for him.

...He was a terrible person.

It had been two weeks since that day. Two long, long weeks.

Grian had suggested some time apart. Which was fine. It made sense. Scar understood.

He was busy. He needed to sort things out at work. Grian needed a break. A short break. Totally fine.

It wasn't permanent. It wasn't permanent.

But Scar sleeps in his own apartment now, for the first time in a long time. He drives himself to and from the airport. The only person he makes breakfast for in the morning is himself.

And it sure hurts like it's permanent.

He doesn't even really have work to keep him busy. Of course, now is the time the Agency decides to relax a little with the workload.

His days are long and empty and he spends most of them in bed, thinking about all the things he could be doing instead.

It doesn't take long for things to pick up again. But by then, Scar is just tired and sick of it all. The fighting is not as good as a distraction as he'd hoped.

It's only been two weeks. Two weeks since their two-year, which was possibly their last year.

The anniversary of their first I love you comes and goes. His phone reminds him first thing in the morning, which is infuriating. Now is when you decide to work?

He deliberates a lot over texting Grian. Of course, he decides to do it. They were only on a break, after all. It's not like he couldn't text him.

Happy anniversary, he writes. He pauses. I love you.

Sent.

The dreaded typing bubbles appear — Scar's heart leaps in his chest. After a minute, they disappear, no message being sent.

Scar's heart goes back to its regularly scheduled bleeding.

Then... the news hits.

He's in bed when it goes live, severely jet-lagged. One of his few mornings off. He sleeps through the announcement, through the fight, through the dozens of texts that fill his phone.

He wakes up to a disaster.

He is pretty shocked when he reads the first article about it, to say the least.

He had known about Gem's mission, of course he had. Everyone in the Agency had been briefed, since her cover being unwittingly blown would've put her at risk.

He didn't, however, know that she was targeting Joel. Joel, and Grian, and Jimmy. His friends.

He should've put two and two together. Joel had mentioned a new friend, a couple weeks ago. Scar hadn't thought much of it — but he should've realized, at least, when Grian told him her name.

Well, in his defense, there were a lot of people named Gem. It wasn't exactly an uncommon name nowadays.

But seriously. Grian, Joel, Jim, they were in danger. Their identities, their location, everything was compromised.

Oh god, Scar was compromised, too. What if people found out about him and Grian? Did Grian say anything to Gem? No, he wouldn't be that reckless.

If the Agency ever found out about him and Grian... he didn't even want to think about it. It would be bad.

They had always been so careful. So careful. No one should have ever found out.

(Maybe, his brain supplies unhelpfully, it's good timing that you're on a break right now.)

(Shut up,  he tells his brain.)

He opens his phone to a lot of missed calls. And texts. It's actually a little overwhelming.

He tackles the easiest one first — Etho. A single, short message from early this morning that looked like it had been typed while walking.

About to engage in battle, it read. May require backup.

Oops, he types back, tacking on his favourite emoji at the end — the nervous smiling face with that one drop of sweat, if you were wondering.

There were a couple missed calls from Joel, which he makes a mental note to follow up with. No messages from him though, Joel's not really the texting sort of guy. Always was calling, even for the littlest things — polar opposite of Etho. Scar's probably only talked to Etho on the phone, like, three times in his entire life.

Two messages from Jimmy. A photo of the article Scar had just read with "did u know" as the caption.

...He doesn't respond to that one just yet.

The last person he has notifications from is Grian.

A lot of missed calls and messages. Scar braces himself, pulling up the conversation.

Scar is the only thing the first text says. Then Pick up the phone. Then We need to talk. Seriously.

...Yikes.

He dials the familiar number, trying not to panic.

Grian picks up on the third ring. "Did you know?" is the first thing he says. No hi, hello, et cetera. Straight to business.

Scar coughs, clearing his throat. "No. No, of course not."

There's a silence on the other line. Scar almost thinks the connection's broken when Grian finally speaks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah?"

"You can tell the truth, Scar," Grian says, voice steady.

What? "You don't believe me?" he asks in disbelief.

"I didn't say that," he says evasively. "Did you know or not?"

"I didn't," he repeats, "like I said the first time."

"Okay," Grian says, but there's still an underlying tone of doubt in his voice.

Ouch.

"I would've told you," Scar says firmly. "You seriously think I wouldn't've told you?"

"I don't know!" he says defensively. "Joel thought a lot of things about Gem, but—"

Scar shakes his head to himself. "Gem and Joel knew each other, for, like, a month. We've been together two years —"

"Oh, so now you can remember that," Grian mutters.

Scar falls silent. That was a low blow. "Look, I've already told you how sorry I am about that. But you know me. Of course I would've told you."

"We haven't had a real conversation in months," Grian starts. "You're so busy all the time. All those flights, and missions, and nights at the Agency. I don't know anymore."

Scar blinks. "Are you saying you don't trust me?"

Grian doesn't say anything.

Scar can't believe this. He actually can't believe this. He knows things have been a little rough lately — okay, fine, very rough — but he was still the same person he'd always been!

He'd still trust Grian with his life.

He starts speaking, trying to get his thoughts in order. "When we get back together—"

"If," Grian corrects quietly.

Oh.

Oh.

"Oh," Scar says.

Silence fills the air.

Scar's mind is replaying Grian's voice saying If like a broken tape. He's not sure if he's breathing. Is he breathing? His ears are ringing and his heart is pounding but is he breathing?

"Scar?" Grian says, far too softly. "Still there?"

He coughs, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, yup, still here. Listen, G, gonna have to call you back. Something's come up—"

"Scar," Grian starts, seeing right through him.

"Glad we talked!" he says cheerfully, ignoring Grian and hanging up.

He falls backwards on his bed, nails digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood.

If. If we get back together. If.

Who says that to somebody? Completely out of the blue! Over the phone! He didn't even say it in person.

(He's trying to ignore that he's only thinking about that so he doesn't think about what it may mean.)

What if they didn't get back together?

What if he never gets to see Grian again? Never teases him or kisses him again? Never steps foot in that dump of an apartment he considered more of his home than his own again? Never plays video games with Joel or watches a bad movie with Jimmy again?

The thought is unbearable. Actually unbearable. It makes him feel physically ill.

Oh, god, what is he supposed to do now? Get on his knees, beg for him back? Grab a boombox, stand outside his window in the middle of the night? Write a love letter, mail it to him?

(Wow, all the romcoms he watched with Jimmy were really stuck in his head.)

What if Grian still didn't take him back? What if this was all too little, too late? What if there's nothing he can do about it anymore? What if–

Okay, he was just spiralling now. Pull it together, Scar.

But even as he's thinking this, the reminder of how Grian had sounded saying If is enough to send him spiralling again.