Work Text:
All things considered, the day started as close to a “typical” Thursday as Zed’s ever been able to have. Typical being a bit of a- stretch to describe his days, at least to the average person, but accurate to his current situation. After all, most people might not consider waking up to the sounds of fervent swearing and clanging pots a normal thing, but for Zed it’s practically comforting.
So comforting, in fact, that he makes absolutely no move to get out of bed or even look at the clock that he’s almost certain is telling him he’s late. Being late for his job is practically a requirement in and of itself (at least if he were to ask Grian, because if they don’t show up to work on time they have to actually work less), though one that Cub doesn’t exactly approve of, but is utterly too lazy (or, if you ask him, too busy) to rectify. And if neither his boss nor his coworker (if Grian can even be called that, given how little work he does) are going to be mad about him showing up late, he’s not going to be either.
For a blissful thirty minutes, Zed’s almost able to fall back asleep. Whatever chaos was happening in the kitchen fades away after a few minutes, his bed is still warm and fluffy, and he’s still being smothered in his favorite sheep plushies. The only thing left to shut itself down again is his brain, which is proving to be more difficult than he’d anticipated (despite living with his brain for his entire life, and this not exactly being a new problem of his) now that his eyes had opened briefly and caught sight of his most recent project.
For weeks now he’s been trying to finish his most recent illustration, and for weeks completion has eluded him. First he wasn’t satisfied with the posing, which led to him redoing the entire piece. Then he wasn’t happy with the linework, then the composition (again), and now, worst of all, there’s nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all, except for the fact that he just can’t call it done. He’d gotten so frustrated adjusting and readjusting it the night before that he’d left his laptop open overnight, where it’s now staring him down once again. The harder Zed tries to ignore it the more his brain wants to solve the problem, and solving the problem means he has to actually get up and go over there.
What a scam.
Still, Zed wraps two of his warmest blankets around himself before dragging his body over to the desk (almost falling three times on the way over, which is definitely just because of the blankets and not at all his own clumsiness) and collapsing back into the chair he’d “lovingly” dubbed the “Chair of Eternal Self Doubt” some time around two the previous morning. Unsurprisingly, his piece hadn’t magically finished itself overnight, its “complete” yet soulless state just as bleak as he’d remembered it being. Zed’s barely picked up his pen before a shout grabs his attention back from the computer, amusement overtaking his tired frustration.
“Zeeed! Zed! Don’t make me come in there, I know you’re awake!” Ex’s voice crashes through the quiet of their apartment, just bordering on true irritation. Before Zed gets the chance to respond, Ex is at his door, cracking it open and frowning when they see him at his desk. “If you tell me you didn’t sleep last night, I’m going to suffocate you with Shearlock until you actually rest.” Judging by the tight ponytail Ex’s pulled their hair into today, it’d be wise to not mess with them.
But wise decisions are for rational people, and Zed prides himself on being rationally irrational. Or sometimes irrationally rational, if he’s feeling fancy.
So instead of telling Ex the truth, Zed puts the biggest, saddest, most pitiful pout on his face as he wraps his blankets around himself tighter. “That’s not Shearlock, Ex. I can’t believe this, Shearlock has a clipped ear! You’re currently glaring daggers at Ramsey!” For all of two seconds, Zed gets to delight in the look of pure and utter murder that takes over Ex’s face as he starts cracking up. The next moment, as he probably should’ve predicted, given how long they’ve known each other (and the number of times Zed’s caused that specific look on their face being somewhere in the thousands at least), Ex is yanking the comfort of his blankets away, sending Zed’s chair spinning out of control. By the time he finally comes to a stop (though he might argue his stomach is taking a few extra turns) Zed’s blinking spots out of his eyes from how hard he’s laughing, desperately trying to keep any semblance of oxygen in his lungs.
“Maybe if they weren’t all vaguely sheep puns, I’d be able to tell them apart.” Ex rolls their eyes as they throw Zed’s blankets back onto his bed before sitting down on the end of it themself. “Or—and I know this is crazy of me to say—if you, oh I don’t know, had less sheep stuffed animals.” Zed gasps dramatically at the words, leaning so far back that he accidentally falls out of his chair completely, only barely missing the desk with his head. A half-stifled snicker makes its way from the other half of the room, prompting Zed to glare in the direction his throbbing head thinks his bed is in.
By the time Zed manages to right himself Ex is idly pulling at Ramsey's ear, barely glancing at Zed as he flops onto the bed next to them. “I can't believe you'd suggest such a thing to be quite honest. I'm rather offended, I think.” He tacks on a small sniff at the end of his sentence, aiming for devastation but instead coming off a little closer to haughty. Close enough, or at least close enough for Ex to bother looking at him fully, a small smile that Zed knows they’re trying to hold back breaking onto their face regardless. The two sit in silence for a moment, Ex fussing with Ramsey and Zed letting his brain run rampant trying to figure out how to solve a problem he can’t even see.
Eventually Ex shifts again, pulling their gaze away from Zed’s face and towards the bed, which is Zed’s first indicator that they’re about to talk about something more serious. Ex’s distaste for things they deem frivolous (namely, emotions) makes it hard for them to not feel awkward engaging in them- somehow they’d determined that if they just don’t look at him, it’s like the conversation isn’t happening. Zed can’t really judge, it’s more logic than he applies to most situations.
“Are you still in a slump?” Ex’s hand stills momentarily as they ask the question, a small note of concern creeping into their voice despite what Zed knows is their best effort. The fact that they’re asking at all is how he knows it’s gotten bad.
Because, yeah. A slump might be too nice of a way to describe what he’s been going through over the last month. His art tends to be- well it tends to be like he is. That is to say, all or nothing. When it works, it works, and hardly anything can drag him away from his art, even trivial things like “eating” or “sleeping” or “going to his day job because someone needs to help pay rent around here.” But when it doesn’t work? When it doesn’t work it’s devastating. No matter what he does the ideas won’t translate, or if they do translate it takes four times as long for him to actually draw it well, or sometimes his brain just spirals and spins and twists until he’s more anxiety than man and he starts shutting himself down before he ever picks up the pen, let alone starts making anything. And that’s been all he can manage for a month now. For an entire month he’s barely gotten his way through this single piece, and now that he’s finally at the end, he still can’t finish it off.
So yeah, a slump would be a good way to describe what feels like the end of his life as an artist.
But all of that would be entirely too dramatic to say out loud, even if he knows Ex would never judge him for it. “You could say that. The piece is done, at least. Well, it’s done but it’s not completed. There’s nothing left to add except there has to be something else because it doesn’t feel right as-is. And I can’t have my first piece completed since all this started be one that doesn't feel right, because that’s practically a bad omen! You know how I am about omens, for all I know-” Zed cuts himself off abruptly, the weak attempt at a “casual” tone abandoned nearly two seconds into his rant. He lets out a long, slow breath, hands lightly grasping at a stray blanket to calm himself. “Sorry. I did sleep last night, I just want this piece done with. I’m okay though.” Luckily for him both of them detest eye contact, so he doesn’t have to deal with trying to look like he’s telling the truth.
Not that Ex is likely to believe him either way, but that’s a small, insignificant detail. A small, insignificant detail that suddenly becomes a lot more significant when they immediately call him out on it.
“Mhm. You can tell me you’re okay all that you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that our kitchen is halfway to a health code violation. You also gonna try and tell me you weren’t stress-sciencing late last night?” There’s no mistaking the smug aspect of Ex’s tone as they turn and levy their stare at Zed, who shrugs sheepishly. In the haze of waking up he’d completely forgotten the reason he’d been up late to begin with- turning their kitchen into a makeshift science lab just to see if he could create a soap that doubles as paint on wooden surfaces.
Things had been going great, right up until he’d dozed off while cooking some of the ingredients together and had nearly burned down the kitchen.
Zed winces as he sits up, one hand rubbing idly against the small burn on his wrist. “Okay, okay, so maybe I’ve been worried about it. Sorry about the kitchen, I completely forgot I hadn’t cleaned everything up before passing out- I’ll go take care of that.” He’ll be even more late for work than he already is, but it’s fine. Probably. If he pleads hard enough with Cub, he can make it fine.
Ex stands up abruptly, voice substantially softer even as their face stays the same. “I’ve got it- this time only. I don’t want you to be too late for work.” They pause for a moment, a far more familiar smirk coming to their face. “If you can’t cover your half of the rent this month, I’d really hate to have to throw you out onto the street.” Zed laughs as Ex strolls out of the room, aiming a well-practiced middle finger at their back. There’s never been a day in Zed’s life where he truly believed that Ex would ever abandon him, especially not for something as trivial as rent payment. They won’t talk about their actual job much, preferring to complain about their coworkers or internet drama, but they’ve always made it clear that Zed doesn’t have to stress himself too badly over rent.
In any other circumstance he would find it odd, but Ex’s family comes from money, and quite frankly Zed doesn’t have the energy to question it much more than that.
The next thirty minutes fly by in a blur of getting dressed, scrounging up a piece of toast with the last of the strawberry and blackberry jams (and making a note to remind himself to stop at the store after work), and then getting halfway down the block before remembering he’d left his entire work bag at the apartment, including his badge to get in.
Ex totally wasn’t laughing at him on his way back out.
By the time he shows up to work (nearly two hours late, which earned him a high-five from Grian and a tired sigh from Cub) he’s already properly over the day. So, of course, it figures that today would be the day the televisions are running a special on the city’s superheroes.
Tektonic, Shockvolt, and Vortex. The three heroes of the city, and the three people Zed can’t stand most in this world. Which might be a tiny bit dramatic, sure, but he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. Other than the fact that sheep are underrated animals. Or that the sky is blue. Or that water is wet, or-
Okay so maybe not the thing he’s most sure of, but it’s pretty close up there.
Every time the three of them appear, so does about eighteen thousand dollars worth of property damage. Now, admittedly, it’s not as if Zed has much personal property for them to damage, but it’s the principle of the whole thing. Maybe if it at least felt like they were trying to mitigate some of the damage he’d be more forgiving, but he’s pretty sure they’ve spent more time fighting each other than “the forces of evil and darkness currently throwing a minivan across Seventh street.” All Zed can think about is how much safer people would probably be if they could actually manage to lock these villains up instead of letting them run wild every other week.
Grian switches the channel abruptly, spinning the remote idly in his fingers. “You alright over there Zed? You’re staring at the telly like it owes you money.” Zed blinks quickly, relaxing his face from the deep frown he didn’t realize it’d been making. He’d like to believe he isn’t a spiteful person, but something about the heroes and villains of the city always puts him in a sour mood. He and Ex have spent hours on end ranting about whatever stupid press conference or news article happened to cross their paths, and tonight was shaping up to be no different. It’s not necessarily the nicest way to spend their time, but after years of hearing about the three of them, he’d completely run out of patience.
Still, Zed puts a light smile on his face as he turns back to his computer to sign out (why he even bothered to log in to begin with he’s not sure, given all he did was play solitaire), tucking his thermos back into his bag. “Yeah I’m solid! Just not too keen on hearing about those three all the time, you know how it is.” Grian nods in agreement, casually tossing a dart at one of the numerous “We’re here to help!” posters dotted across the waiting room, nailing it squarely in the middle of the text. “Well, I’m clocking out for the day, I told Ex I’d stop at the store and pick up more jam.”
“Oh boy, you surely wouldn’t want to forget that. I think my roommates would kill me if I caused them to miss out on their jam and toast for a day. Best of luck to you!” Grian shoots him a halfhearted salute as Zed makes his way towards the break room, stopping to wave good-bye to Cub before finally stepping out of the building. He’d only been there for five hours but it felt like an eternity, despite how few customers actually showed up (or maybe that meant it was because of the lack of customers. That could be an interesting experiment to bring Grian into next time they’re on a shift together), getting out just in time to see the sun gradually setting behind the buildings. If he’s quick he might be able to make it to his favorite store before they stop restocking for the night- they always carry his favorite brands, and sometimes they’re even willing to discount his purchases just out of familiarity. They’re also in the opposite direction of his apartment, which is why he tends to only go early in the morning, when he’s sure they won’t be out of anything.
But Zed would do a lot for his strawberry jam (he could take or leave the blackberry, if he’s being honest, but Ex would kill him six times over), so without hesitation he starts off in the direction of the store, pulling up directions on his phone as he does. Simple enough, surprisingly- follow Chromia Street down to the intersection with Pixel Avenue, then take a left and just continue straight. According to his phone he should get there with twenty-five minutes to spare, but he’s willing to bet he can cut at least five minutes off his travel time with some clever jaywalking and Zed-style ingenuity. Last time he put his mind to it he shaved a whole thirty minutes off a trip, and it only required a few less-than-legal tactics! It was practically child’s play.
For the first ten or so minutes of his walk, things are fine. The streets are crowded but not unmanageably so, the sun sets enough that it’s no longer blinding him with its intensity, and he’d been fortunate enough to catch nearly all the lights in his favor.
And then he gets to the intersection at Pixel Avenue, and everything goes to shit.
“Turn right at the stop sign to get onto Barge Parkway.” Zed’s brow furrows in confusion as he glances down at his phone, double-checking the address to make sure he’s still on-track. He can see Shade-E’s just down the street, so there should be no reason for his directions to suddenly be going haywire. No reason until he glances up, however, and sees Alkaline in the middle of the road.
Shit.
Zed immediately ducks into the nearest alleyway, shutting off his GPS and silencing his phone. The next second he pulls up his messages, frantic fingers finding Ex’s contact and typing out a hasty message. “Was on my way to the store, Alkaline is here. Hiding, but close. Will update if I’m safe.” Zed slips his phone into his work-bag, holding it close to him and turning his attention back towards the street. Alkaline is slowly stalking forward, fingers curled at their side as bits and pieces of metal start to break off of cars, lamp posts, buildings, and whatever else is nearby. A small piece of a pipe whizzes past Zed’s face, nicking the side of his cheek as it does. He lets out a sharp hiss, carefully poking at the wound and frowning at the resulting blood on his finger. He’ll have to wash his face thoroughly when he gets back to make sure there’s no diseases trying to get the jump on him.
“You can’t hide forever, Vortex, I know you’re here.” Alkaline’s voice cuts through the eerily silent street, flat and cold, none of the sounds Zed’s come to associate with living in a city present anymore. For a brief moment, he’s not sure that any of the heroes are around. It’d be just his luck that the one time he needs them (even if he’s not in any imminent danger, he’s still far closer to a supervillain than he’s ever needed to be) they’d be off messing about somewhere on the other side of the city.
No sooner has he had the thought, however, does Vortex drop down from somewhere, his signature grin clear on his face even from Zed’s out-of-the-way position. A small current of relief floods his body automatically, even if he’s too tense to think about moving. Even if he doesn’t trust the heroes, even if he’s certain they’ll take the piss with Alkaline for far longer than they should, their presence means Alkaline won’t go looking for them. Which means, hopefully, they have no chance of finding Zed in his hiding spot.
It’s- abnormal to actually see Alkaline during the daytime, even if it’s the last remnants of it. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, it’s rare to see them at all. Despite them being one of the most prevalent (and dangerous, if even half the reports about them are true) villains currently active, it’s very rare for anyone to actually see them during a crime. From what little Zed’s read about them in the news they prefer to work from the shadows, more focused on achieving their goals than making a spectacle of the whole thing. If Zed wasn’t currently semi-terrified for his life at the moment, he’d almost find it admirable.
Vortex cracks his knuckles loudly, tilting his head slightly to the left. “Aw, did you miss me that bad? And here I thought you were playing hard to get, cute.” Zed rolls his eyes at the theatrics of it all, barely stopping himself from audibly scoffing. Even knowing they weren’t going to take this seriously, he’s still baffled by their reluctance to not end these fights as fast as he knows they could. Especially with someone like Alkaline, who seems like they’d sooner kill all three of them than surrender willingly.
All at once they both explode into a flurry of movement, Alkaline extending a hand and shooting a car mirror at Vortex at the same time he flicks his wrist, a gust of air diverting it harmlessly to the side. The two of them continue trading blows at an astonishingly fast speed, Alkaline being careful to keep their distance and Vortex taking any and all opportunities to press forward, usually accompanied by another quip. It’s almost mesmerizing the way the two seem to fall into something akin to a dance, each one effortlessly countering the other.
And then Alkaline does something different.
Just as Vortex moves to try and knock them to the side with another gust of wind they throw their hand out, the shiny metal of what looks to be a knife glinting briefly in the air before lodging itself in Vortex’s arm. The damage is immediate, the wind disappearing and his face scrunching in pain. “Augh! That- oh that wasn’t very nice Alki, geez!” In spite of his casual words it’s all too clear that he’s in pain, his other hand clutching at his arm and coming away bloody. Vortex reaches up for his ear with his uninjured hand, voice tight. “Tek, Shock, you two need to hurry up. Alkaline tagged me, they’re pretty pissed.”
Something deep within Zed starts to stir at the sight of the blood dripping down Vortex’s arm, an old instinct he moves to shut down as quickly as possible. Running out there would only get him killed in the process, and dying isn’t something he’s particularly keen on. Still, Zed finds himself squeezing his bag repeatedly so he has something else to do with his hands.
Though the fight hasn’t stopped by any means, it’s all too easy to see Vortex starting to fall behind Alkaline’s pace the longer they go on. It all comes to a head when Vortex trips, Alkaline’s sharp grin sending a shiver down Zed’s spine as they grab a discarded pipe, fashioning the end into a sharp point with a few quick hand gestures. “I would say this was a good fight, but I won’t disrespect you by lying in your final moments.” Zed squeezes his eyes shut quickly, expecting to hear the sickening sound of metal meeting flesh right after.
Instead, all that rings out is a hollow clang.
Tektonic and Shockvolt both stand behind Vortex, Tektonic’s hand outstretched in control of the pillar of earth that rose up from the street to block the pipe. “Surely you didn’t think it’d be that easy, yeah?” The words sound conversational, but the undercurrent of anger flooding Tektonic’s voice sets off alarm bells in Zed’s head, strong enough to snap him out of the haze Vortex’s injury had put him into.
“It sure seemed to be a moment ago, or did you miss the part where I almost killed Vortex without breaking a sweat?” Alkaline sneers at the three of them, just as confident as they’ve been the entire fight, but Zed’s struck by the sudden realization that they’re apprehensive. He’s not sure how he knows, or if he’s even right in his assessment, but something about their demeanor seems different now. Their eyes glance back in Shockvolt’s direction every few seconds, tracking every movement he makes.
Tactically it’s not a bad decision, given Alkaline being covered in metal and Shockvolt wielding electricity. Without a doubt Shockvolt is the biggest immediate threat to Alkaline, even if Zed’s never once seen Shockvolt actually use his powers the way he could, the way he should. It’s one of Zed’s biggest problems with him, as a matter of fact. With a power as strong as his, there shouldn’t ever be a fight, and yet even in situations where he has such a clear advantage, he holds back like he’s not even trying.
It’s one of the most infuriating things about all three of them, their inability (or perhaps their unwillingness, depending on the day Zed’s not sure which he believes more) to finish a fight.
A distressed shout pulls his eyes back up to the fight in front of him, his mouthing going dry as his brain explodes in a flurry of thoughts. Alkaline is doubled over from what Zed knows in his soul is a fractured rib, Shockvolt is bleeding from two gashes on his thigh, Vortex is still nursing his injured arm and what seems to be a sprained ankle, and Tektonic- Zed’s not sure where he is, but it’s bad. Really, really bad.
It’s so bad that Zed feels sick from it all, all the injuries surrounding him, all the thoughts in his head swarming and trampling each other, how hard his hands are clutching at his bag, the worn leather strap digging into his skin.
He’s not sure how he hears it, it shouldn’t be possible over the chaos happening around him, but he does. A quiet, strained, “fuck,” from across the street. Zed’s gaze shoots to the source of it, his entire body going still at the sight in front of him. Everything else fades out of focus, the fighting ahead of him turning to indistinguishable blobs, his hearing fading out until everything is quiet.
Tektonic is dragging himself into a narrow alley, his entire costume covered in so much red that Zed can’t pick out how much of it is fabric and how much is blood. Given how badly Zed’s started to shake though, he’d be willing to bet much more of it is the latter. He can only watch as Tektonic tries to use the wall to get himself to his feet and falls immediately after, prompting another pained groan out of his mouth. The buzzing under Zed’s skin grows at the sound, so strong that he’s starting to feel nauseous. He continues to watch with bated breath as Tektonic only manages to pull himself another few inches away before falling still, the sight making up Zed’s mind immediately.
If he leaves Tektonic there, he’ll die. There’s no doubt in Zed’s mind about that, Tektonic will die in the next few minutes if no one intervenes. If he doesn’t intervene.
He shouldn’t. He’d sworn off his powers years ago, ignored every urge and inclination, he should stay out of this. Tektonic knew what he was signing up for when he became a hero, it’s not Zed’s responsibility to save him now.
But even as he’s having the thoughts Zed’s standing up, mentally calculating the fastest path to where Tektonic is. Because Zed can’t leave him there, can’t let him die when he knows he can save him.
It’s a miracle he manages to make it across the street without anyone noticing him, the others too busy fighting to notice Zed’s lithe form slipping behind debris and cars alike until he’s just in front of Tektonic, staring down at him with a newfound sense of clarity. Now that he’s closer it’s all too easy to see how badly Tektonic’s hurt, his brain automatically filling in the list of injuries he’s able to sense- broken ribs, a myriad of lacerations across his arms and legs, and the main culprit, a deep stab wound in his abdomen from what Zed imagines was another one of Alkaline’s makeshift spears.
Zed whispers an apology under his breath before dragging Tektonic the last bit of the way into the alley, keeping both of them out of sight from Alkaline. The lack of any real response short of a stuttered exhale from Tektonic only reinforces Zed’s decision- he has to heal him.
It’s okay. It’s not okay. He can do this, probably. He can do this, he’s always been able to do this, but the stakes have never been this high, he’s never had to heal someone who’s this badly hurt, he’s not sure he can stomach that amount of- he doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t have a choice because he can’t let someone die, not when he’s perfectly capable of saving them, regardless of how much he doesn't like Tektonic. Zed drops to his knees abruptly, gently tapping Tektonic’s face and waiting until he sees his eyes move to speak. “I know this is a little overly familiar for someone you don’t know, but you’re going to have to just trust me, alright? I’m going to help you.” He’s not sure how much of what he said processed in Tektonic’s brain, if any, but he’d feel too awkward to just grab him without saying something. “Now just hold still- which I think you’re doing anyway, to be fair.” A strained laugh comes out of his mouth with the words, his hand coming to rest gently on Tektonic’s chest.
Zed’s only been healing for a minute or two when Tektonic speaks, startling him directly out of focus, the glow he’d started to accumulate around himself fading out with his surprise. “Wha’ever you say, Angel.” He’s delirious. He’s obviously delirious, of course he is, given that most of his blood is currently on Zed instead of inside himself. He’s delirious.
That doesn’t stop Zed’s face from flushing bright red at the words, his eyes shooting down to stare at his hands so he doesn’t have to make eye contact.
Stay focused.
Stay focused, someone is dying.
Zed repeats that to himself over and over as he starts to heal again, starting with the lighter cuts on Tektonic’s arms and legs. In an ideal world he’d tackle the stab wound just to stop the worst of his bleeding (a small part of Zed that seems to be completely detached from the situation he’s in is mourning his jumper and trousers, because there’s no way he can salvage them after this), but he can already feel the pain from Tektonic creeping into his own limbs, drawing a pained wheeze out of his mouth. Starting with the worst one might push him directly into passing out, and then they’d both be fucked.
He knew it was going to hurt. He hasn’t been able to heal without pain since he was a teenager, of course it was going to hurt.
That doesn’t stop him from being unprepared for it. The longer he heals Tektonic the worse he starts to feel, his hands shaking aggressively against Tektonic’s chest, a steady stream of swears forcing themselves out of his mouth as the pain starts to compound and take over whatever bits of attention aren’t dedicated to actually doing the healing. The fact that Tektonic managed to get himself this far away from the fighting is impressive, Zed’s not even gotten to the stab wound yet and he’s already feeling faint, and he didn’t have to drag himself halfway across the street first.
The moment he starts to heal the stab wound he doubles over, resting his forehead on the ground for a brief moment before forcing himself back upright. It’s hard to breathe with the pain of the broken ribs, and moving his body sends sharp pricks of pain racing up and down his limbs. Whichever deity decided it’d be funny to give the healer the curse of taking on the pain they heal better be having a good laugh right about now, because Zed’s two seconds away from cursing them out as well. He can do this. He’s not the one dying, even if it feels like it at the moment.
That thought is enough to snap him back into focus, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to continue. Zed no longer trusts himself to be able to accurately sense when Tektonic’s actually healed, given how much of his focus has moved onto his own screaming body, so Zed forces himself to keep his eyes on Tektonic’s stomach, watching the wound slowly knit itself together. After what feels like an entire year it’s finally sealed, Zed releasing his powers with a nauseating exhale as he all but collapses against the wall next to Tektonic’s still body. If Zed wasn’t able to clearly sense that Tektonic’s now healthy he’d be concerned by how still he is, but it’s okay. It’s okay, he got here in time. He got here in time and healed him, everyone’s okay.
It’s only a few minutes later that he realizes the street is quiet, save for Vortex and Shockvolt occasionally shouting Tektonic’s name. They must’ve beat Alkaline. A tired smile comes to Zed’s face, which only lasts a moment before the sharp edge of clarity cuts through his haze. He needs to get out of here before they find Tektonic or he wakes up.
The last thing he wants or needs is for them to know who he is.
Zed forces himself to his feet, his vision tilting several times over before he feels stable enough to move. Seriously, how Tektonic managed to make himself move at all is truly impressive. He stumbles back across the street to the original alley he was in (for practicality reasons, and not at all because he wants to keep eyes on Tektonic so he can sense if any new injuries pop up), clumsily fishing his phone out of his bag. Belatedly, he realizes his hands (and the rest of him, to be honest) are covered in blood, soaking his bag and dirtying his phone screen.
“Need Helo. Had yo do Ghe Thing, cant move easily. By Picel and Chronia.” It’s a shitty text, riddled with more spelling errors then he’d usually feel comfortable leaving in, but given how badly his vision is swimming right now he sends it anyway. It’s only after the fact that he realizes Ex never saw his original message, a small note of concern coursing through Zed’s stomach next to the nausea.
He should get up. After ten minutes Ex still hasn’t read any of his texts, which means they’re busy and probably won’t see them for hours. He can’t sit here for hours, he needs to get back to his apartment where he can take his painkillers and wait out the after effects of his healing. But the idea of getting up, of dragging himself nearly thirty minutes back to his apartment feels nearly unfathomable, and it’s not as if he can get on the bus while covered in blood.
Luckily for him, his problem is solved for him, right before he was about to pass out from the overwhelming mix of exhaustion and secondhand pain. Vortex’s booming voice appears next to his ear, forcing Zed’s eyes open in shock as he flinches backward. “Woah, woah! It’s okay homie, I’m here to help.” If Zed were in a laughing mood, he’d crack up over the moment Vortex seems to realize he’s covered in blood, his wings fluffing in distress. “Oh my- hold on where are you hurt? I can get to you to a hospital qui-”
“No! No- no hospital, I don’t-” Zed forces himself to slow down for a moment, breathing quickly to try and dispel the burst of panic the idea of being back at a hospital sent through him. “Home, need to go home. Roommate won’t- won’t answer phone.” If he plays this right, Vortex doesn’t have to know he had anything to do with healing Tektonic. He can’t sense Shockvolt anymore, which means they both probably left Vortex to do a last check of the area. Just his luck.
Despite Vortex not looking comfortable at the idea, he nods slowly. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I can get you home. Are you injured anywhere? We don’t have to go to the hospital, I can do some first aid myself.” Zed’s barely able to focus on the words coming out of his mouth, the last of his conscious thoughts screaming at him to heal the various cuts on Vortex’s arms from Alkaline’s metal bursts, but he can’t. Not only can he not show Vortex that power, he can’t stomach anything else at this point.
After a pause far too long to convince Vortex that he’s not dying, Zed blinks himself back into focus. “Not hurt. Just need to go home, please.” If he wasn’t quite so exhausted he’d feel embarrassed by how badly his voice breaks, but it gets the point across- Vortex nods, carefully picking Zed up. “Apartment building on the corner of Fourteenth and Grimm.”
The walk back feels akin to a fever dream, Vortex carrying him carefully enough that he doesn’t start to feel more nauseous from the movement. Zed thinks he might try to talk to him once or twice but he’s too out of it to process any of the words, instead diverting all his attention into staying awake long enough to get inside his room. By the time they get to his building he’s dreading the idea of having to drag himself up the stairs, even if there aren’t many. “Do you need me to help you to your apartment? It’s not a problem at all, if that’s a concern.” Vortex still sounds somewhat apprehensive, and if Zed was thinking straight he’d probably be concerned about leading a hero directly to his door, but he finds himself nodding regardless. The smile that breaks onto Vortex’s face is very clearly relieved as he starts off inside, tackling the stairs with ease and eventually stopping when Zed points out his door.
The transition back to standing on his own two feet nearly sweeps Zed’s vision away, but he manages to pull himself together long enough to unlock his door. Almost as an afterthought he turns back to Vortex, a soft smile finding its way onto his face. “Thanks.” Vortex nods in acknowledgement and Zed shuts the door, finally stumbling to his bathroom to take a painkiller. He should really change out of his ruined clothes before he lays down, but by now the blood is probably dry and he’s more than expended his energy for the day. He barely makes it to the couch before collapsing face down, the painless relief of sleep washing over him in an instant.
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“Zed? Oh my- shit. Shit okay, hold on, hold on Zee, I’ve got you.” Ex’s voice yanks Zed out of sleep suddenly, the sheer amount of unfiltered concern enough to scare him awake, especially if Ex is willing to slip into their teenage nicknames. Almost as soon as he sits up Ex is forcing him to lay on his back, gentle hands starting to prod at his body searching for- something. As soon as he’s lying back down all the pain from earlier returns, the intensity of it stealing his breath away and forcing a sharp noise out of his mouth. Ex’s face goes paler at the sound, their hands stilling. “Can you tell me where you’re injured? Do you remember anything about what happened?”
Injured? He’s not- oh.
He’d almost forgotten about being covered in blood because of everything else that happened in that short span of time, but now that Ex’s called his attention back to it, Zed has to admit that it looks pretty bad. He forces a comforting smile onto his face, grabbing Ex’s wrist. “I’m not injured. I-” The weight of what happened hits him like a truck, stealing the rest of his sentence. He healed someone. Not just anyone, he healed a hero. He’s spent years trying to keep his powers from being noticed, and he’s put all of that at risk in a single moment. Not to mention he led Vortex to his doorstep immediately after. If Tektonic remembers anything about him, his life might be over. “Shit, Ex.” His voice comes out quiet, just above a whisper. “I really fucked up.”
In the span of two seconds all concern bleeds off Ex’s face, instead replaced by a familiar look of determination. “Whatever you did, we can fix it. Tell me everything and I can have it sorted by the end of tomorrow, I promise.” Zed scans their face quickly, somewhat surprised to see how earnest they are. He’s always known that Ex would do a lot for him, but it’s still staggering to see in the moment. Ex sits down next to him, putting aside the distaste for physical contact Zed knows they harbor to pull him into their side. “Nothing you say will impact our friendship.”
Zed drops his head onto their shoulder, unable to stop himself from leaning further into them as the pain swells again. It’s still hard to breathe, each inhale sending a stabbing pain through his chest that coalesces with the pain from his phantom stab wound, leaving him somewhat winded. “On the way to the store, I accidentally got in the middle of a fight between Alkaline and the heroes.” Ex stiffens suddenly, so slight that Zed’s almost sure he imagined it. “Tektonic was dying, and my powers were driving me insane, and he was dying. I couldn’t let him die, and-” Zed sits up suddenly, turning to stare directly at Ex with a hint of desperation on his face. “I didn’t mean to put us in danger again, I promise. But he was dying and I just couldn’t stop myself, and- and he shouldn’t know who I am, he was so out of it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Everything still hurts too much for him to think straight, but he knows how much Ex hates the heroes, even more than Zed’s distaste for them. “Vortex was here, I couldn’t- I can’t walk. Too much pain, too much healing.” Now that he’s initiated eye contact it feels too damning to break it, but the longer he and Ex look at each other the more anxious he starts to feel about their response.
“Don’t apologize, of course you couldn’t let him die. How much did you heal?” Ex’s face hasn’t changed once since they initially wiped it of their concern, and even now it’s unreadable, if not slightly warmer than usual, soothing the worst parts of his stress. They stand up a minute later, disappearing further into the apartment before returning with a handful of blankets and another of Zed’s plushes, Lady Ba-Ba. Zed takes them readily, wrapping the blanket around himself and sinking into its comforts.
The two of them sit in silence for a while, until Zed can breathe easily (or as easily as he can manage with a phantom broken rib) and he feels less like bursting into tears. He chuckles into the silence, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Well, I haven’t fallen out of practice, that’s for sure. Tektonic had a broken rib, a really bad stomach stab wound, and like a thousand cuts across his arms and legs. He maybe had ten minutes left by the time I got to him, he was pretty delirious.” Ex’s face flickers again, the sight so unusual that Zed tilts his head. “Are you okay?”
At first he’s not sure Ex will answer, not when they stand up again to get him a glass of water silently. It’s only once they’re in the kitchen that they respond, their voice barely loud enough for him to hear from the couch. “Yeah I’m okay. I just- I was really scared for you, Zee. I walked in and you were just lying here, covered in blood and not moving. And I-” They walk back into the room, avoiding his eyes. “I got called in after reports of Alkaline’s attack came through, I couldn’t check my phone so I didn’t know where you were. And then I was let off and all I could see was your texts of you being there and I couldn’t get back here fast enough.” They cut themself off quickly, letting out a long breath.
“I’ll be honest, I forgot about the blood. It wasn’t mine, and by the time Vortex got me here I could hardly stand up straight.” Zed laughs again, raking a hand through his hair and frowning when flakes of dried blood come out of it. “We should be okay- I stopped being able to sense Shockvolt’s injuries when Vortex was talking to me, so I think he and Tektonic had already left, and Tektonic was completely passed out by the time I was done healing him. If we’re incredibly lucky, they’ll never know I was involved short of being there.” He’s not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Ex of that, mainly, but he’ll take whatever he can get. If he just repeats it enough times, it can be true.
Ex nods, sipping a mug of something warm Zed doesn’t remember them making. “That makes sense, they always leave one person to check for last minute injuries to send our way.” They squeeze Zed’s shoulder awkwardly, nudging an extra pillow his direction. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m so glad, in fact, that I’ll even let you pick what show we watch tonight, purely out of the goodness of my heart.” Zed snorts at the sarcasm, picking up the remote and biting back a wince at the sudden movement.
To the surprise of neither of them they end up watching a new shitty reality television show that has both of them yelling at the screen in ten minutes flat. They stay up until Zed’s eyes start to burn from exhaustion, the little bit of energy he’d recovered from his nap burning out quickly as his eyes start to flutter shut. He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but the last thing he registers is Ex shifting the two of them so Zed can rest on their shoulder. He smiles slightly at the movement, finally letting himself drift off.
Everything is fine- Tektonic is alive and no one is any the wiser. That’s all he needs to let go of the last remnants of stress along with his consciousness.