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"I've got you, Agent. I'm right here."
Juniper watched, half awake, from the armchair he'd been draped over. Agent Crane had parked himself on a nearby couch, in just the right position for the Phoenix to nestle between his body and the armrest, still bundled tight into the nest of lightweight blankets that he and Dr. Prism had cocooned them in. Juniper was starting to make details out of the cocktail of tranquilizers that someone had given him before the flight out, but it really felt like the pair before him were the only clear details on an abstract background. Well. As clear as he was getting; he hadn't had his glasses on him during the Peace Summit (they would absolutely not have survived it regardless, but he did regret the vain decision to leave them behind either way), and something was wrong in one eye that hadn't improved much in the last few months. Thinking about it made him feel nauseous, and the lack of answers he'd been met with certainly didn't help.
So, realistically, Agent Phoenix and their handler were the only mostly-normal-blurry thing on a abnormally blurry background. And only if he kept as still as he could. Ultimately, he was not doing well.
Granted, neither was Phoenix. They almost looked closer to death than they had before the surgery; Juniper could make out the shape of nasty bruising on their face even through his worsened vision, and they made pathetic little noises every so often as they fought through their own dose of sedatives. Crane hadn't so much as glanced away from them in what felt like an eternity, gently brushing their hair away from their face and murmuring gentle reassurances whenever they started to stir. When they were still, he apologized nigh inaudibly, over and over again. Juniper could only just make it out, though it was clear in his voice that his heart ached for the agent. Juniper couldn't figure out why watching the two of them made jealousy twist in his stomach, alongside something else.
"Reg..? I can't- I can't feel-" Phoenix choked out as they floated back into consciousness, much more forcefully than before, "Something's wrong, I can't-"
"Shhhh, I know. You're safe," Crane tried again to reassure them, gently pulling them back into the couch, "You can't engage your implant. That's okay, Roxana gave you a sedative that should keep you from turning it on accidentally while you rest. You might not remember, but she had you check to make sure you could still use it before she handed you off to me. You just need time for your body to catch up to you."
That sounded... bad. Serious. If he could move, Juniper would have shrunken in on himself. It wasn't his fault they'd gotten so bad, surely? Back in the safehouse, they'd told him that their illness had begun after the Death Engine, which he wasn't involved in, and he was fairly sure that he hadn't thrown them around quite as hard.
Except, they had been matching him drink for drink the whole week leading into the Summit.
And he'd slammed them face first into a table on the plane.
And he'd subdued and kidnapped them.
And they had to use a lot of quick thinking and TK to catch him after the Fabricator and Zor had dropped him.
And they had to use even more TK to slow the elevator after it fell.
Whatever else he was feeling was starting to really claw at him; it pinned him in place almost as intensely as the dizziness did. Juniper braced himself and, through concerted effort, managed to readjust his position enough to alleviate the physical symptoms a little. Which did not solve the weight in his chest, but it did bring into ringing clarity that he would be stuck watching the agents until the drugs had worn off further.
"Oh, Phoenix, I will never let them do that to you again," Crane had returned to apologizing, it seemed, but this time at full volume. "I am so sorry. I've been a terrible handler and an even worse friend. I promise, I will never let them get away with this again. Not while I have any say in the matter."
"Not- 's not your fault," they croaked out, "Didn't have a choice." The pause that followed while Crane struggled to maintain the last shred of his composure was loaded. Phoenix listlessly reached out one hand and pressed it to their handler's face while he choked back tears, and Crane melted into their touch.
"My poor, brave little buddy," he said, growing quieter again, "I've missed you so much. I never want to lose you like that again."
"Missed you, too," they mumbled back, relaxing a little again, "Good to get to- hold-"
"To hold you? Yes, Phoenix, it is. The good news is that we have an unprecedented level of privacy. I can hug you and tell you I'm proud of you to my heart's content. And I can say it with my whole chest: you are my friend. My best friend, at that."
"Love you, Reggie."
"I love you too, Phoenix. Get some rest."
Oh.
Juniper hadn't really understood what Phoenix had meant when they'd said that they were close with their handler, but that spelled it out for him. That man was the person they trusted most in the world. Their safe harbor. And, suddenly, all at once, it clicked. Juniper had used him to hurt them. The guilt- that was undoubtedly what it was, guilt- twisted tighter and heavier still in his chest. He'd chosen to impersonate Agent Crane to inspire their compliance. His own words, in another voice, came back to him.
"Good thing your implant still works, Agent. I've heard that, when those things malfunction, it gets messy."
He'd managed to impersonate their one and only friend and make light of the brain injury that they'd been struggling with alone.
Oh, hold it together. He thought to himself. Why would that matter? You were playing your role, and it isn't like you knew about any of that. It was just another show. Just business. Nothing about this should make you feel that bad. But, undeniably, it did. What the fuck had been wrong with him? That wasn't another performer playing a role, that was a person. Phoenix was a person. Just like him, just like Agent Crane. Just like everyone else he'd almost killed. Just like everyone else he'd materially hurt.
Oh, Christ. What the fuck had he done?