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Jimmy "Canary" Solidarity was not lead by rage.
Many of his coworkers lassoed rage as a tool, manipulating their abilities and intelligence as they saw fit. But Jimmy always, always used hope, running face-first and thoughtless into a scenario if there was the slightest chance of victory. His Tango had issues with rage, so it was good to balance him out. Jimmy relished in providing a gentle shoulder to cool off on.
But…
"Canary! " Grian's modulated voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Jimmy wiped his face, unsurprised and unbothered to find his gloves coated in blood. His wings ached something fierce. As the sun shone on his bare shoulderblades his wings straightened out, cracking grotesquely as the bones refitted.
"Canary, move! " Grian shouted.
Canary did not move. He faced the viscous, ink-black creature, and screeched. Grian, colloquially known as CuteGuy, veered around him and narrowly avoided Jimmy's healing wings. CuteGuy slammed into the creature and dug into its mind, wherever it lingered. He tore the thing to shreds.
Canary rose in tandem with the creature's shrieks. It wasn't the creature he was after, but the one controlling it just beyond - with powerful wing-beats, he launched himself over the writhing mass and collided with the unsuspecting villain, talons-first.
His talons dug into the villain's ribcage. He curled them and screeched again as the bones splintered and snapped.
No killing no killing no killing no killing-
The villain screamed. They attempted to make a fist with one hand, black sludge coalescing into a bulbous shape, but Canary blocked the sun with his wings and leaned in close. Once he was face to face with the villain, eyeing the stark fear in the whites of their eyes with the satisfaction of a predator, he sneered.
"Please," the villain whispered.
Any other day Canary would snap free of his uncharacteristic anger. He'd back off and allow CuteGuy to knock them out. They'd tie them up, snap dampening cuffs on them, and call it there.
But… right before he vanished, Tango had cried out. No, please! Please!
And the villains. Laughed.
Canary widened his eyes and bared his teeth. Words failed him, but his intent translated just fine to the villain, who whimpered and threw their fist in a weak punch. Thick slime hit Canary, digging into his skin and feathers alike. He hardly felt it, and tilted his head at the villain, watching the way their veins twitched whenever they swallowed.
His instincts sang. Fresh meat. Return to nest. Food. Mate. Mmmmmmmmmmmate in DANGER. Fresh MEAT.
Canary bared his teeth at their throat. The villain thrashed, tearing Canary's talons deeper into their skin. They screeched in agony and Canary's beak had just about closed on their heady, blood-filled neck-
A fog filled his mind. Thick, blotting out his thoughts, hiding him. He must… he was… who…
Canary stepped away blankly, and CuteGuy swept forward. He tore consciousness from the villain and checked him over as the world returned, slowly but surely, to Canary. CuteGuy had stopped him from killing.
A part of Canary was bone-deep grateful. Another part was flaring his wings and throwing himself at CuteGuy for stealing his prey. Before he could cave to his loud, blaringly loud instincts, another villain distracted him. Someone with strength and fire. Without a thought, Canary launched in their direction with a haunting shriek.
Dimly, he heard CuteGuy call out for him. Canary, wings freshly healed and brittle, ignored him.
-
Tango rated this place negative five out of five stars. He'd be talking to their manager about this and leaving a scathing review. It'd be so devastating that they'd have to pack up and move from sheer humiliation.
One, it was cold. If it were only cold, he'd be fine. He'd run out of energy much quicker, burning through his inner fire, but ultimately? Tired but happy Tango. But, two, it was wet, and it was absolutely ruining Tango's life.
He sneezed and sniffled. With his hands power-cuffed behind his back he couldn't even wipe his nose, which ran freely. He tried to wipe his nose against his shoulder, which was caked with ice, and with the power cuffs leeching even more energy he was shaking like a leaf in autumn.
The worst part, though?
They'd set up a television in the upper corner of his cell. Far too high for him to reach, but plenty close for him to see. A fight raged between the Villains and Heroes -- or, what Tango fondly dubbed dumb and dumber. Classifying anyone as a Hero or Villain was so arbitrary and was seldom accurate.
The media called him a hero, sometimes, and he was always so close to just robbing a bank to get them off his back-
Tango winced as Canary was thrown into another building. Yeesh. Jimmy was getting beat to shreds. He kept picking himself back up and rejoining the fray without letting his healing powers work. He was a force of nature, and the cameras could barely catch him.
He moved with an unfamiliar jerkiness. Tango couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, concern growing with every passing second. CuteGuy flitted around, keeping stock of the area, while HotGuy beamed his thousand watt grin and took sniper shots from his wheelchair. As always, HotGuy would appear from thin air, take a shot, and vanish yet again. His arrows were lightning-sharp bursts of energy that blinded and hurt in equal measure.
Jimmy kept screeching. It pierced Tango's heart and made his lungs hurt. The sounds echoed, haunting, and Tango shook his head as if he could wake up and start the week over. Try again and better, this time.
On screen, Zombie disappeared beneath a mound of rubble. Canary slammed into the villain that caused the avalanche and they tumbled into a cloud of dust, vanishing from view. Tango held his breath.
A yellow smear flew from the dust cloud and Canary slammed against the rubble mound. He twitched. Slower than Tango would have liked, he pulled himself to his feet.
Tango gaped. His wings were broken and bleeding. His costume was shattered. The upper corner of his visor cracked off. This was the moment where Jimmy should step into the shadows and set his wings. Where he should wait for the bruises to fade.
Instead, Jimmy's mouth opened in a snarl, and he leapt talon-first at the villain. His wings beat uselessly, blood splattering the concrete. The shaky camera refocused on CuteGuy taking on a different villain and Tango shouted.
"No!" He pounded his feet against the wall in frustration. God, he needed to be out there. Leave it to Tango to get damseled. They'd taken blood, tossed him around a bit, tore off a fingernail for good measure - but Tango had his faculties. He had his brain. He needed to be there, especially because something was horribly wrong with Jimmy.
Tango had a creeping feeling that it might be because of him.
He shouted as the camera snapped to Jimmy. A sword stuck out of his gut. He staggered backwards, falling hard on an elbow. His whole body jerked.
Tango's inner flame reared up. Fury coated his tongue in iron, but the power dampeners sucked his energy just as soon as it appeared. He was well and truly useless, trapped in this wet-cold prison. Rage turned to desperation and Tango twisted, trying to break the cuffs against the stone wall he was chained to.
In vain, he knew. He had none of the leverage he needed, and shortly enough a guard would be here to straighten him out. But Jimmy was ripping the sword free on screen just to get slammed against the ground, and Tango was here.
Tango keened. He pulled his thumb until it popped out of socket with a snap. Loud footsteps sounded outside of his cell and Tango moaned like a cornered animal. He tried, desperately, to wiggle his hand free from the cuffs. It was a hopeless venture, since the cuffs dug into his wrist with small metal spikes. His success tasted like painting the floor in blood and the acrid pop of his bone. It wouldn't be enough.
"Blaze?"
Tango's head snapped up. Guardian Angel.
Skizz.
"Here," Tango gasped. Skizz appeared before the cage, brilliant white wings spread wide. Eyes blinked from every feather and Tango exhaled, instantly ensnared.
The eyes closed in tandem. He blinked the stars away.
"Ah!" Skizz said. He reached for the bars of the cage and they shied away from his hand. It unlocked without a fight and Skizz was inside Tango's cell within a heartbeat. "Blaze! Are you alright? Where does it hurt?"
Tango laughed breathlessly. "Nowhere, big guy. Help me out of these cuffs, will ya? It's a bit damp."
Skizz beamed, skin crinkled with smile lines and scars. He held the cuffs in his two hands. Tango closed his eyes and scrunched his shoulders up to his ears. A dissonant chord struck the air and the cuffs fell to pieces, but he waited a few more beats to be safe before peeling his eyes open.
"Heya, Top," Skizz whispered. "This joint kinda sucks, wanna bounce?"
"More'n anything," Tango said. Heat flowed to his extremities. Tango rubbed his wrist and, with a sharp exhale, snapped his thumb back into place. Skizz winced.
"C'mon, buddy," Skizz said. He pulled Tango's arm over his shoulder and helped him up. Tango staggered to his feet. He felt spots at the corner of his vision as his body tried to acclimate itself, both to verticality and to the lack of energy-draining cuffs.
"Canary," Tango gasped.
On the television, Canary had been thrown into a broken building. The building shuddered and cracked, breaking to pieces. Canary hadn't reappeared.
"He'll be okay," Skizz said, though he sounded unsure himself. With a grunt, Skizz started forward, and the two of them stumbled their way out of the building. There wasn't a guard in sight, and Tango tried not to think about it.
Tango was taken back to HQ, where Zedaph practically killed him before confining him to bedrest and pumping him full of fluids. He was kept in the loop on the fight - Zombie had re-emerged, put together and pissed off, and had turned the tide in their favor. CuteGuy was as quick as a hummingbird, flitting from place to place. HotGuy was in his element, the strangest sniper-decoy to ever live.
"What about Canary?" Tango asked again and again. "What about Jimmy?"
"Healing up," Zed said.
"Have you seen him since the building collapse?"
"Well, no. But that's not unusual," Zed argued. Tango's face drained of blood.
Zed held his hand. Tango trembled, and said, "I need to get out there. I need to help."
"You can't," Zedaph said, short and painful. Tango froze, just about to swing his legs over the side of the bed and march off. "You're not strong enough right now."
"I'm fine, " Tango argued.
Zedaph gazed at him. He glanced about, then picked up a scrap paper. "If you can light this on fire, I'll let you go. Doctor's honor."
"You're not a doctor," Tango muttered weakly, but he eyed the scrap. Was it a trap? He could light papers on fire when he was a toddler!
Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Tango reached for the paper. He held it and relaxed, pulling fire from his core.
It would hardly be a challenge. Tango could make flames in his sleep -- he did, sometimes, when the nightmares were particularly strong. Tango pulled forth his fire, and…
Well, he reached for his flame, summoning it forth…
Agony, sharp and strong, cut through his gut. Tango cried out and curled over, paper fluttering onto the sheets. It wasn't even singed.
"I'm sorry, Tango," Zedaph said. He held Tango's hands between his own.
Tango, who hadn't been without his fire since he was young and foolish, scrunched his face up. He couldn't put to words what he was feeling, some amalgamation of weepy sadness and horror. "But who'll help Jimmy?"
Zedaph, who knew him better than Tango knew himself, sometimes, didn't answer. He knew a rhetorical question when he heard one.
-
Jimmy was buried for no more than an hour. Sunlight streamed onto his blood-speckled face as he was pulled from the rubble. He reached weakly for Grian, who shot him a look.
"You're an idiot," Grian said flatly.
Jimmy couldn't respond. He was too busy shouting and swearing as someone yanked a thick metal beam out of his thigh.
A needle stuck his skin. Jimmy winced, but only because he wasn't expecting it.
"Congrats, you're not dead," Scott said wryly. He swung an IV bag into Jimmy's vision. "Don't mind me. Just fixing your broken body."
"I'm fixing my broken body. You're just giving me energy," Jimmy retorted. He twisted where he lay. "Is everyone safe? Is it over?"
"For now, yes," Scott said. He scowled in frustration, likely at it not being entirely over. Not yet.
A lightning sharp burst of fear struck Jimmy numb. "Did we get Tango? Where's Tango? Where is he?"
"Tango's fine, he's fine. Zedaph messaged. He said Tango's dealing with a bit of energy sickness, but he's stable."
Relief slackened Jimmy's tense muscles. He flopped back, the flimsy cot squeaking beneath his battered body. "He's okay. He's okay."
The how and why of Tango's return would be questions for later; Jimmy clung to the mere knowledge of his wellbeing. Nothing else mattered.
He floated through the rest of the day, keeping quiet at the debrief and gazing forlornly at the doors. Once Jimmy's healing factor fixed him up the exhaustion swept in, clinging to his limbs like a limpet. He struggled to keep awake. His body buzzed with the energy Scott had pumped into his system, leaving his muscles both spastic and fatigued.
The whole time, his mind chanted a quiet refrain: Tango, Tango, Tango, Tango, Tango. Jimmy sat alone, slumped on a cot, not entirely sure how he'd gotten there or what he was doing. Tango's okay.
The cots were a place to sleep for heroes if they didn't have the energy or means to return home. Jimmy had the energy, but here he remained. They were separated by white curtains for privacy.
Commotion at the entrance echoed on the whitewashed walls. Jimmy heard Grian's voice: "What - Tango, you're supposed to be resting-"
Jimmy perked up. Tango?
"Where is he?" Tango's voice was edged with knives. He sounded rough, and Jimmy rose to his feet in alarm. Several sheets rustled and Tango's frantic footsteps clacked on the linoleum floor, Grian's faint mumbles fading into the background. Jimmy took a step forward and before he could move again Tango was there, framed by their makeshift walls, battered and bruised and colored every which way yet still alive and breathing, standing like an angel haloed by light.
He couldn't breathe. He was beautiful.
Tango barreled into Jimmy's open arms. He pulled at Jimmy's shirt and when Jimmy didn't get the memo within one, singular second, he linked his hands behind his neck and yanked. Jimmy yelped as their lips crashed together, neck aching from the force, but it faded to mere background noise as Tango advanced desperately.
Tango kissed like the sky was falling. He molded their bodies together like they were one person, unwilling to ever part again. It was all Jimmy could do to stay afloat, gasping and wrapping his arms around Tango's shoulders, pressing on his back as if to mesh their skin and bones.
Tango made a weak noise in the back of his throat and Jimmy tensed, tightening his hold. He curled into Tango like the curve of a bow, tilting his head back and pressing hard enough to bruise. He could taste blood on his lips, but he wasn't sure if it was his or Tango's. He didn't quite care.
The buzzing in his veins reached an all time high as Tango lost steam, Jimmy swiftly taking control of the kiss and holding him as tightly as he could. Tango's fingers dug into Jimmy's back and he kept making these noises, these high and desperate mewls that drove Jimmy absolutely crazy. Jimmy bit at Tango's lip. He could last awhile without air; he'd be willing to suffocate on Tango's tongue.
Tango did not have the advantage of super-powered healing, nor did he have his usual pool of molten heat to draw from. Jimmy could feel Tango growing too tired to continue, losing energy but giving small determined kisses in the face of Jimmy's vigor. His desire for Tango's comfort and safety overtook his need to swallow Tango whole and he turned to the side, pressing them cheek to cheek and exhaling heavily.
Tango huffed. His arms were two clamps around Jimmy's ribcage, his fingers bunching up the back of his shirt. Jimmy gave a light kiss to Tango's jawline, cheek, and ear, traveling down his neck until his face was buried there, tense and emotional.
Tango caressed his fingers down his back, no longer holding tight enough to bruise. He hummed gently. "You know, I thought you'd be a bit more beat up. A whole building dropped on you, did you notice?"
Jimmy breathed a soft, jagged laugh. "I noticed."
"'Cause, like, you can't heal if there's nothing… to…" Tango cut himself off and inhaled wetly.
"Hey, hey," Jimmy said. He pulled back to cradle Tango's face between his hands, staring earnestly into Tango's teary gaze. "I'm okay. I'm here."
"Yeah," Tango said. His lip wobbled, and it was then that Jimmy noticed everything else that was going on with his face. His lip was torn up, bleeding in less of a Jimmy-bit-too-hard way and more of a got-punched-in-the-face way. There were scabbed cuts on his face as if someone wore a ring while clocking him. His left eye was circled with deep, sickly colors and puffy skin. There was gauze in his hair.
"What did they do to you?" Jimmy asked helplessly. He brushed his thumbs beneath Tango's eyes. Agony swirled in Jimmy's gut. Even after all that, he couldn't protect him.
"I'm fine," Tango said. At Jimmy's swiftly degrading expression he tried for a smile, but winced minutely when it stretched his scabs. Jimmy made a soft, damaged noise. Tango shook his head softly. "Honest, Jimmy. I'm okay."
Jimmy was loath to counter Tango, but the wounds were on stark display. "I'm so sorry."
"Sweetheart," Tango cooed. He leaned up and kissed the corner of Jimmy's mouth. "It's not your fault. We're fine, okay? I'll heal, just a bit slower than you do. No lasting damage."
If Jimmy could gift Tango his healing, he'd do it in less than a heartbeat. Even if it meant days of pain. Every ache he'd feel would be one that Tango didn't. But here he was, healthier than ever while his Tango was painted black and blue. And what agony it was.
"I'm still sorry," Jimmy mumbled.
Tango kissed him again, chaste and sweet. "Let's go home, huh? We'll feel better in our own bed."
"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. He kissed Tango's forehead, nose, and lips. They linked hands, but still left only a breath of space between them.
Jimmy smiled at him. His sweet, fiery, perfect Tango. "Let's go home."