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The heat in the PRT headquarters hadn’t fully caught up with us. I was hiding it better than Theo, whose teeth were still chattering as we got to the common area. The run hadn’t done much to warm us up.
I heard him mumble under his breath, “I’d kill for a hot chocolate.”
I considered if I should say something about the poor return he’d be getting out of that deal, but it only reminded me of Alexandria and Tagg and I got bummed out.
In a flat voice to hide how the cold was affecting me, I said, “You can have one, but it’ll count towards your cheat days.”
Theo was weighing his options when Revel walked in. The lantern was in her dominant hand as usual and I noted a cardboard box in the opposite one. Her eyes went to Theo first.
“Jesus!” She swore sharply. Moving the box more under her arm, she went towards one of the couches that had a few blankets strewn around. I would have folded them as we approached the room, but my new teammates were more squeamish when it came to bugs cleaning up.
Grabbing one of the blankets, she tossed one over Theo’s head and held out the other one towards me. I shook my head, rejecting the offer. I wasn’t going to show any weakness to them, especially with how I was now in a role of training Theo for his fight in the coming future.
Placing the blanket down, Revel looked at me as if planning what she was going to say. When it took a second longer than I was comfortable with, I spoke up.
“Take a breather Theo. We’ll get to your training in a moment.”
I heard a response under the blanket, but nothing intelligible. I assumed it was an agreement when he made his way to the couch, the blanket still over his head, and fell on top of it to rest.
Jerking my head to the hallway, Revel followed. I wondered what the box could hold. Dad hadn’t gotten me a gift for the holidays. Maybe that was it.
Then again, I hadn’t gotten one for him either. We were still finding our feet. Gifts hadn’t really been one of the priorities when it came to building our relationship anew.
The short walk had given Revel enough time to navigate a conversation with me. I wasn’t sure to blame that on her head injury or if it was just because it was me. My own experience with a concussion led me to hoping for the former.
“You’re pushing him too hard. Yourself too,” she advised.
“Nothing he didn’t want,” I told her. Some days it boggled me how no one else was taking the up and coming end of the world seriously. Theo, at least, had too much riding on the day to speak about the doubts I knew he held.
Revel gave me a long stare, looking for any hint of a shiver on my part. I kept my body under control.
“This came for you in the mail,” she held out the box. “It’s been checked about a dozen times. We’re pretty sure who sent it, but since we can’t technically prove there’s anything malicious about it, you get to have it.”
I raised an eyebrow and took the box. I almost dropped it with how frozen my fingers were, but I saved it before embarrassing myself. A few bugs crawled from under my sleeve and bit through the tape.
When I did open the box, I nearly dropped it anyway. The sight alone tricked my brain into smelling something that wasn’t there. That couldn't be there, with the amount of times it must have gone through various PRT agent’s hands for any secret codes or notes.
Rain mixed with grass. Hair that had been drenched and left to collect a hint of dirt from tumbles or a lack of concern with sitting on a patch of ground. More noticeable was the smell of sweat, mixed with blood and meat. The sweat came from weeks of going without a proper shower, let alone a wash for the item itself. It came from a freedom that was loved and taken to its fullest ability.
A freedom I helped facilitate, after a fashion.
I reached in and took out the jacket. It had more wear and tear than I remembered. Cuts that didn’t make it unwearable, but they were noticeable and anyone could easily guess that they came from fights. I noticed for the first time a worn logo, but if it had been readable in the past then by now it had faded beyond legibility. Not that the past wearer would have bothered with noting down the brand.
My fingers brushed between the fur that lined the collar. It hadn’t been washed. I could see a clean cut where some blood had been. The PRT trying to find some evidence? Were blood samples that old even viable?
“So you do recognize it.”
Revel was stating the obvious. Any of the Brockton Bay Wards would have recognized the jacket from as far back as the bank fight. Their faces would range between outright annoyance or simple fear.
Those of them that were still alive, anyway.
I kept my face as blank as I could. Couldn’t show any weakness. Couldn’t give the idea that I hated it here and wanted to run back home. My mouth was beginning to curve into a smile against my will.
Ignoring the hero in front of me, I brought the jacket up to my face, making it a mask unto itself.
I didn’t know what it looked like to Revel. Maybe she thought I wanted to get a closer look at it. Maybe I wanted to warm up my face against the fur.
I breathed in through my nose, seeking that smell my brain remembered.
Wet dog.
I felt tears form and break away from the edges of my eyes. My mouth cracked into a small smile that was hidden just for me. My hands tightened, making sure there was nothing in this world that could take the jacket away from me.
Last time I wore this thing, it had been an unexpected, warm comfort on a somewhat chilly night.
This time, just holding it, it was like I had been sitting next to a raging fire for an hour, refusing to leave it even after I had already been warmed up.
“Ahem.”
Memories of cookouts and simple, silent understanding bounced around my head as I actually used the jacket to wipe away any tears. I lowered the jacket and kept it in one hand as I returned to my default expression around the heroes.
“I have a feeling that this won't end well for either of us if I stay any longer, so I’m just going to go. Try to not spit on everything you’ve been working towards because of this, yeah?”
I didn't respond. Anything I said would just get a lecture that I wasn’t in the mood for.
Once Revel left through the doors I sank to the floor, my knees meeting my chest. Even though I knew it was pointless, I rummaged around the pockets for any encoded message.
I froze as I felt a series of bumps I was sure hadn’t been there before.
Rachel wouldn’t have done this, but Lisa could for her.
They could have sent a letter, like they did before. So why didn’t they?
I found more bumps, hidden in such obscure spots that they would have been passed over by any inspection. Separated, they were meaningless, but my bugs always allowed me a wider view.
In braille-and of course Tattletale knew I was learning it-were eight words. I reordered them in a series that made sense.
Keep your promise. See you at the end.
An extension of the promise I made with the letters. Stay alive. Find each other at the next fight.
Only this wasn’t just for the next Endbringer fight. It was for the end of everything. An expectation that we’d all make it in a year and a half’s time despite all the troubles that we were sure to face.
I’d carry it with me every time I wore it. Something more concrete than a letter. Something I could read in case I went blind again. I’d brush my fingers against it when I’d get cold and be alright. And Rachel would have the jacket I made for her, protecting against any enemy that tried to cut or shoot her down.
Deal.
I put the jacket on.