Archive of Our Own

For fuck's sake, he thought he was over this. He hasn't had a nightmare about that horrible, bloody moment in months despite everything, and now they come back to haunt him? All because he was anxious about some reunion, with Vitalia of all people? How stupid.

Speaking of, that's today.

Well, no point going back to bed. He pulls himself to his feet and shuts off the incoming alarm for 07:00 AM. He trudges through the darkness of his apartment until he reaches the bathroom, flicking on the light and immediately being met with the familiar burn in his eyes. He hisses like a disturbed cat while rubbing at his eyes and moving to the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing himself in the face with the hopes of rousing himself awake. Hopefully, he'll then be able to kick some sense into himself, to beat the anxiety that comes with seeing one of his old teammates for the first time in nearly a decade. After all, she's not angry at him, so she's not going to berate him like some stupid child, and he will not end the day feeling like the scum of the earth. Not that it sounds like something Vitalia would do anyway, especially since she insisted up and down that she's not mad. Unless, of course, she lied over text.

When he finally stopped trying to run away at every turn, Robert had managed to convince him to unblock his old teammate, and he'd still wanted nothing more than to take it back right there and then. Of course, Robert wouldn't let him, standing rigidly next to him and peeking over his shoulder as he typed the first text, a simple 'hi'. Chase had slammed the phone face down on his desk the moment the message delivered while Robert rolled his eyes so far back he probably caught sight of the inside of his sockets. Little hypocritical fucker. He should've smacked him across the face for that, but he had been distracted by the little ping of the notification telling him Vitalia had responded.

One thing had led to another, and he'd ended up agreeing to meet with her in person to talk. About what? He can guess, but he doesn't want to, and it's made him notably agitated. He's long abandoned working behind the desk for the week, because he just can't stand still, and that helps no one. At least when he's out on the field, he can let out all that anxious energy by running, moving, getting stuff done. Not today though, he's off work. So, he's stuck wasting his day away until it's time to go. He's never been more thankful for Vitalia's borderline psychopathic (if you asked him) tendency to preferring an early start to her days, setting this visit to 10 in the morning, because at least he doesn't have to wait around the whole day.

The time passes by in a blur of performing his morning routine, having breakfast, getting dressed way too early, then pacing around his apartment a million times until he makes himself dizzy. His chest aches uncomfortably, and standing still makes him feel as if he'll explode, so he moves and moves even when the dizziness turns to nausea. He finally leaves when it's 10 minutes 'till 10, taking advantage of his speed to hopefully quell his nerves beforehand. He feels like he might vomit at any moment as he reaches the apartment block, the same one Vitalia had lived on when he'd last talked to her. Now, this is sending him back a couple of years.

He refuses to let himself procrastinate. He walks in and rushes up the stairs as fast as possible without actually using his powers. No point in hiding away from this any longer. Whatever consequence he'll get, he'll deal with them like an adult and stop running away from them like a little bitch. Thankfully, there aren't that many stairs to climb, and soon he's stood in front of her door, one fist raised hesitantly.

One knock. Two knocks. Before he can get cold feet and back away, a shuffling noise comes from behind the door, which is soon followed by the click of the lock mechanism and the door opening with a small creek, revealing a face he hasn't seen in years. He's taken aback at first, the woman looking so different yet so familiar. Robert had warned him she looked sickly, but hearing about it was nothing to seeing it in the flesh. Her skin wrinkles with marks and freckles that hadn't been there before, holding a paleish yellow parlour which makes him squirm when he focuses on it for too long. Her clothes, a dark blue turtleneck and black trousers, seem to swallow her, too baggy on her smaller frame. Her hair, up in braids, is still its dark brown, but decorated by a large multitude of grey hairs. She looks as if a light breeze could sweep her off her feet. Chase turned his gaze to the ground, the sight churning in his gut like sick. Neither says anything for a moment, as if they were both running their eyes over their changed faces.

"Chase, you look well." she says in an attempt to set a pleasant mood. She has a small smile on her face.

"You've looked better." he says back bluntly, and he knows he sounds like an asshole the moment the words leave his mouth, but he won't take them back. They're true, after all. Her smile turns into a grimace for a moment.

"Haven't gotten any less blunt, I see." she says before letting go of the door and walking inside, gesturing for him to follow along.

Chase takes a deep breath in. Fuck, might as well get this done with. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and looks upon the apartment that looks as much the same as it had been the last time he'd been here. The biggest difference is a pair of crutches laying against the wall near the front door, and a lot more blankets laying about on different surfaces. She must've found the lost companion of her crutch, or got new ones, he thinks in passing. He slides his shoes off and watches Vitalia practically fall onto the couch, her body shaky from the effort of moving with no support. There's enough space for him to sit down as well, but he chooses to stand by the couch instead, his body too riled up from nervous energy for him to sit down without possibly vibrating in place. Vitalia looks up at him with her dark eyes, unchanged by the years that have passed between them, and it gives him the push he needs to speak.

"Look, i just want to come out and say it outright that i'm sorry." his voice is shakier than he'd like it to be, but he carries on. "I'm so fucking sorry. I fucked up." Vitalia stands still, her face set in a frown, unmoved by his words. Perhaps he shouldn't focus on that. Not yet. "I know i shouldn't have fucking ran off like that without saying anything, or ghosted you for almost a fucking decade, but i just couldn't stay there any longer, watching you fucking deteriorated like fucking fruit rot in the sun." Vitalia slightly hisses in amusment, which almost pulls him out of his speech.

"Quite the apt comparison." she mumbles, but Chase misses her words entirely, continuing his own tangent.

"I understand if you want to be pissed off at me forever, but i AM sorry. I'm so sorry. I-"

"Hey, i'm not pissed off at you. Calm down." she cuts him off, and Chase stares at her dumbfoundedly. Indeed, she doesn't seem even slightly angry. In fact, the small quirk at the corner of her lips suggests she might be amused instead. A moment passes before he remembers himself.

"You're not?"

"No! I'm annoyed, frustrated, and quite frankly, fucking tired with you, but i'm not angry." she says, proceeding to then drag her hand down her face with a groan. "I told you that!"

"It's easy to lie over text." Chase says, and Vitalia only rolls her eyes with a huff in response.

"You're something else sometimes. Now, come and sit down." she says, patting the empty spot next to her. When Chase doesn't move, she looks up to see him squirming in place with wide eyes like a frightful cat, and with a chuckle adds "I promise I don't bite."

Chase would like to argue that she does, she has. If he were his typical self, he would add how he's watched her rip out a multitude of piercings from some asshole villain's ear along with a chunk of actual tissue with only her teeth once, and she'd barely even flinched at the blood coating her teeth and tongue. She'd mostly complained about the blood getting on her clothes instead. Hell, that was hardly the worse thing she'd bitten and ripped out, but none of those words can make it past his tongue, so he just quietly shuffles onto the couch, trying his best to keep a distance between the two of them. To avoid looking her in the eyes, he stares down at his hands, pretending that his nails are much more interesting to look at than his surroundings.

"This timid act doesn't suit you, by the way." she says, her tone the harshest it's been since he's walked through the door. He dares to glance up, only to meet furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

"I'm trying to be apologetic-"

"And that you are. Doesn't mean you have to act like a kicked puppy the entire time." she says, refusing to look away from him. He stares right back, because he's not some kicked animal, but he's forgotten how intense Vitalia can be when she wants to be. There was a reason her and Astral were the best at interrogations, with dark eyes and unyielding glares that made even the toughest villains shake. He doesn't last long before he has to tear his eyes away, slumping slightly in place and looking at a random picture on the wall of a much, much younger Vitalia with an old couple, presumably her grandparents or something.

"Fine, whatever." A moment of silence. Two. "Go on then. I said my bit. Say yours." She seems to have no problem doing that.

"Where have you been!? For 9 years, I got no call back, no text, no nothing from you telling me you were okay. Fuck, I assumed the worst!" She sounds agitated, and her hands are shaky as she reaches for a cup placed on the little table in front of her, but deciding it's better to not risk it at the last moment and pulling back, leaving the cup in its place. Instead, she huffs as she pushes her hair out of her face, tucking loose flyaways behind her ears.

"The fuck did you assume? Bitch, you thought i died or something?" he says with a huff, realising too late that it may have been a mistake to talk at all. She turns her head to look directly at him, her face filled with fury and her eyes burning, her hands coiled into fists on her lap.

"Yes! That's exactly what I thought! I worried myself sick at the thought that you died! That you ran and ran until you couldn't anymore, and then collapsed in some fucking ditch!" she yells, loud and shaking and frightened, before looking away to collapse forward in a fit of coughs. She reaches desparetly into her pockets to pull out a tissue to cough into, and Chase can feel the way his stomach drops violently when he sees the plain white turn red.

"Talia..." he stutters, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, but she shakes her head. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and a few splatters of blood still on her lips, and Chase wants nothing more than to run away again.

"Don't." she says coldly, but her voice is shaky and small. All wrong. "I'm not Vitalia anymore."

Chase pauses for a second before pulling his hand away, instead pushing it against his chest, feeling the amulet he had tucked away under his sweater, thrumming with power. He winces internally as he thinks back on her words; she doesn't need to know how close her fear came to becoming a reality. Good thing he had the conscience to hide away the amulet, because he knew having it in plain sight would start a conversation he isn't ready for, and evidently Vitalia isn't ready for either. No, not Vitalia. Crina. He hasn't thought of that name in years. It was too personal, intimate, something he did not deserve the privilege of using after leaving like he did. Yet, despite all that, she wants him to use that name. The least he can do is respect that wish.

He turns back to look at the older woman, who's coughing has subsided, and now she seems to be wiping away any traces of blood that might've stuck to her mouth. The way the blood smears against her lips for a few seconds reminds him of the vibrant red lipstick she used to favour. Once she's done, she rumples up the tissue and seems to lean forward as if she was going to sit up, but instead she gives up at the last second and leaves the tissue on the table next to the abandoned cup. He thinks of asking her if he could make himself some coffee, but decides against it. He's already anxious as it is, the coffee would just make him worse. Besides, he knows Crina, and she will try to insist she does it herself, and looking at her ashen face, she's in no state to do much of anything for anyone. So, he decides against it. Crina takes a deep breath in, patting down her shirt as if to remove the wrinkles.

"Sorry. I let that get away from me." she says, looking off into the distance. He stares in the same direction, but he just sees the closed tv, the blank screen allowing for a vague reflection of their forms. "What i'm trying to say is that i was worried about you. I was scared for you."

"I was scared for you too." he mumbles out, and that causes Crina to turn her head to look at him, eyebrows quirked down curiously, or perhaps in questoning.

"What do you mean?" she says, and she sounds so genuinely uncertain, he can feel magma flowing through his veins, choking him out.

"The fuck you mean 'what do you mean'? Bitch, you vomited enough blood to fill up a fucking bathtub that night. You were colder than a dead motherfucker from fucking Mount Everest. The doctors didn't even know if you would make it through the night! You might as well have been dead! I couldn't stand it, I couldn't fucking stand watching another one of my bitchass teammates die in front of me while I did nothing, so I just fucking left! I know it was fucked up, I know, but i couldn't-" he pauses to take a shuddering breath, and he notices that his eyes were watery, and the tears were starting to escape their confinment and drip down his cheeks. He doesn't take the time to think of how humiliating that is. "I couldn't do it again! I'm sorry, i'm so-"

"You've apologised already. You don't need to do it again." Crina cuts him off, her face calm but her eyes wide with fright. Chase could not care less about what murked behind her eyes, not when she seemed to not give a single toss about everything he had just said. Did it not matter to her? "I don't want you to."

"Then what the fuck do you want from me!?" he demands, perhaps too loud for the hour of the day. Hopefully, Crina's neighbours won't give any noise complaints. Crina pauses, looks at him, biting a bit of skin off her lips, and then reaches into her pocket for another tissue that she uses for his tears. He freezes up slightly when her hand gets closer to him, and the woman decides to place the tissue in his hand instead. Her hands go back on her lap, clasped together as if she were in prayer, and if he didn't know her, he'd presume she was. With how ghostly her body looked while her eyes still brimmed with life, she certainly appeared the part of someone unflinchingly faithful, someone who had nothing else to her name but her soul and love for a god who likely didn't even exist. He knew her better though; she would never give some nonexistent fucker in the sky the time of day.

"I just want to know that you're okay." she whispers, voice fluttery like a speck of dust caught in the air by the rays of the sun. She gapes a bit around the air, forming words she is unsure if she should say, but continuing on anyway. "That you're happy."

Chase pauses. Thinks. Was he happy? He looks back to the past couple of months: the joy of seeing Robert in the flesh once again, scarred but warm and alive and there, capable of being hugged and hear the "love you"s Chase has kept trapped in his throat for years; the days spent only a few feet away from the fucker when there used to be miles and silence between them, and on the off chance Robert wasn't there, Beef breached the small space with bright and eager eyes, always willing for some love, attention, and most importantly, treats, all of which Chase gave him happily; the bothersome Z team, once a sharp thorn in his side, have grown more toleratable with time, and Chase could even admit to enjoying spending time with some of them. If nothing else, it was pleasant to see their effect on Robert, how they helped make him happier and healthier, and he helped them be better in return; Mandy, without the pressure of being the golden, perfect hero eroding at her sanity, has slowly started growing into herself again, with a sparkle in her eyes he thought had faded years ago, and it was wonderful to see; and himself, finally back on the field after years of being forcibly benched. Perhaps it was only temporary, but Chase was adamant to enjoy it fully for as long as he'll have it, so he has thought little for the struggles and only in the lightness being back on the run again has given him. With all that in mind, he smiles gladly as he tells Crina the honest truth.

"Yeah, i'd say i'm pretty damn happy." He watches a small smile slip onto the older woman's face, her body uncurling slightly from the small and frail appearance it has taken. He finally takes notice of the small gold earrings hanging from her ears, or the blue eyeshadow on her eyelids. She looks solid and real. She looks more like herself in that moment than she has for the past couple of minutes. Still, Chase can't help but notice once again how unwell she looks, like an old dog on its last leg just waiting to be put down. It's concerning. It's frightening.

"Good. That's good. I-"

"Are you happy?" he asks abruptly, and Crina pauses mid speaking. The air around them falls still, as her eyes seem to flicker rapidly around the space she calls home. The longer the silence holds, the more clear the answer comes to him. Eventually, she pulls out a response, unsatisfactory but painfully familiar to him.

"I don't know." she says quietly, almost a whisper. Then, she turns to look at him, and he meets her eyes with no hesitation. "I'm trying to be."

Crina looks away again, down towards her lap, her face void of anything, as if uncertain how to move. That lasts for only a few seconds before her shoulders start to shake with contained giggles. Chase chuckles at the display, although he has no idea what there is to laugh about.

"What's so funny?"

"I just- didn't plan to get into the heavy stuff so quickly." she says. "I wanted to build up to it, you know?"

"Well, i've never been the type to dawdle around." Chase says with a cheeky smile, feeling his body relax for the first time today. Crina giggles, actually giggles, and the sound brings him back to different times; where the sun seemed brighter and the sky was endless, anything possible if they just put their minds to it. It hadn't been perfect, but the past always has a way of looking better than the present.

"Do you want some coffee or something?" Crina asks after she stops giggling, appearing poised to sit up. Right, of course, how nice of her to fufill his earlier prediction.

"I'll have coffee, but let me do it myself." he says, sitting up before Crina could protest. She tries to sit up and follow him, but her legs shake in protest and she has to sit back down.

"But- but you're the guest!"

"And i have my own arms and legs that fucking fuction, thank you very much." He walks over to the kitchen, thankful that Crina isn't the type to redecorate much, because everything looks pretty much the same, and nothing has shifted position significantly.

Well, no, there are some difference. Things that were usually higher up in the cabinets have been shoved down, likely so Crina will never have to struggle reaching them. The medical drawer that once only had some painkillers, antibiotics and antiseptic wipes that largely went unused, now contains a multitude of pescription bottles he dares not look at too closely to see what purpose they hold. He closes that drawer quickly; he's never been above snooping, but medication is a private thing he doesn't want to touch around. Besides, he doesn't need anymore reminders of Crina's condition, especially one so blatant. While the coffee brewed, he let his eyes rove over the shelves that have always been covered in pictures. Most of them are the same ones he remembers from before, pictures of the Brigade, both in and out of costume, some pictures from when Crina was much younger, probably from before she even came to the US, and even some pictures of Robert, like his first day of school photo. Yet there are some new ones, some of two littls girls he doesn't recognise, and some of a man and woman that he does. Xuli and Rory. Xuli's presence isn't surprising, she'd been the last person he'd talked to before he left, leaving her alone with Crina's unconcious form in that hospital room. He winces as he thinks of that last argument, the horrible things they'd both said.

Fine! Fuck off, then! See how much i care! You'll be dead to me!

Good! Think me dead, bitch! Sometimes i wish i fucking was!

...Yeah, no wonder Crina (and probably Xuli too) had thought him dead. He wouldn't think himself alive either. Those weren't the words of a man that planned to live. Fuck, he can't imagine what him leaving had done to Xuli. She had already been so prone to breakdowns since that horrible day, either feeling too much or nothing at all, making impulsive decisions she wouldn't normally do. He should really reach out to her, try to right that whole mess. At the very least, he'd like to see her again, just because. She certainly looked healthier in the pictures on display, put together and smiling in a way she hadn't done since before Robbie died. She looked different too, her body softer, rounder and fuller than her past self would've ever allowed, not without making herself sick or denying food for weeks; but her present self seems perfectly comfortable in her own skin, posing and wearing tight fitting clothes that show off her figure, just like she did when she was thin. It's... it's nice to see that Xuli has improved, even if he doesn't know how she managed it.

However, seeing Rory was unexpected. He'd left; he left the Brigade, he left LA, he left barely a year after Robbie passed. He said he couldn't do it anymore, not without his best friend at his side, and he left to make himself anew. It was understood, times had been rough, so the Brigade had let him leave, let him go and try to piece the gap Robbie had left behind in his chest. Chase never thought the man would come back, but he clearly had at some point, and it seemed his mission to put himself together has worked. He was smiling widely in every picture he's in like he's never done before, dressed in the same thick clothing Chase was used to, face unchanged except for some wrinkles. He wore his hair differently, looser, braids falling in his faces sometimes, no longer tight against his head to be kept out of the way, always ready and brimming for a fight. He figures the little girls he doesn't know must be Rory's since they look alike, and that in itself is a whole other can of worms he doesn't have time for.

He finishes up with his coffee quickly, heading back to the living room where Crina is still sat on the couch, reading from a book with a blanket on her lap. When Chase sits back down, sipping from his cup, she lowers the book, looking at him with a casual smile.

"Well, you took your time. Snooping around my things again?" she says that last part with a chuckle, and Chase can feel warmth rising to his cheeks.

"That was one time! Can't you drop it!?" he says, placing his cup down heavily.

"Never. Your face when you got caught was far too funny to ever forget." Crina says between laughs, and Chase grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Well, i'll have you know i wasn't snooping, i was looking at the pictures, which you have on fucking display."

"Oh! That makes sense." Crina's smile dwindles for a second, but it comes back quickly, although softer. Chase drinks his coffee and Crina returns to her book, letting an odd calmness fall between them. It was pleasant, but they both knew it wouldn't last. "Since i'm guessing you're probably wondering, Rory came back a year after you... left."

"Damn, what a fucking joke." Chase says, looking down at his coffee, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid.

"I know, it's fucked up." Crina says, still looking down at her book but obviously not reading a single word. "What's even more fucked up is that he hadn't meant to get in contact with any of us. Xuli ran into him by accident, for fucks' sake!" Chase snorts.

"Typical."

"Yes, very typical of him. I try not to hold it against him, but, y'know..." She's given up on her book, putting it down on the table and wrapping herself up in the blanket like she's freezing, in the middle of a snowstorm.

"Yeah, i know."

Chase drinks most of his coffee before he gives up on it, putting the cup on the table for good. If he didn't have the amulet right now, his heart would be breakdancing in his chest as if it were trying to turn his ribcage to powder, but now he feels nothing at all. Crina is staring off into space, into her reflection in the dark tv screen. It reminds him of the two weeks following Robbie's death, when they were all in a horrid limbo and the ground felt unsteady beneath their feet, a gaping hole dug up and covered by sand, waiting to swallow them all up. Crina had been devastated by Elliot's betrayal, becoming a ghost of a person after his imprisonment and the funeral, her body present but her mind far, far away in a way none of them had ever seen before from her. Then, Robert had disappeared and was answering no one, Mecha Man returned and evaded them all, Erus suddenly left the fucking planet with only a sticky note to announce his departure, and Crina's refusal to move or speak had made it all feel so much more terrifying. She always made things better, as if her powers could soothe the wounds in their heads as it could the ones on their bodies, although they all knew that wasn't possible. So, when she was the one who was suffering, they all began to fumble in uncertainty. Katia insisted they just leave her alone, that she'll come out of it on her own, but how could they just leave her like that? She would never do that if it was one of them! So, many hours were wasted trying to make her eat or drink something, to make her speak, to get some acknowledgment out of her, but nothing. It had been exhausting, and Chase had started crying one day out of pure stress, crawling into her stiff arms and begging her to say or do anything. He'd felt like a little boy again, trapped in an unending nightmare and no amount of pinching was waking him up, and no one was coming to make it go away.

"Chase, are you okay?" Suddenly, he's back in the present, Crina is older and sicker and sat up with a hand holding his shoulder, her eyes drowning in concern. He feels his eyes watering, and he wipes it away before they can even dare to drip down. He's cried enough for one day.

"I'm fine, just thinking about some dumb shit." He hates how snotty and scratchy his voice sounds to his own ears. Fuck, he hates crying, yet he seems to keep doing it. Why? He hasn't cried in months, maybe even years, and now he seemingly can't stop anymore.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Fuck no!" Chase says, harsher than he meant to. When Crina moves back, Chase realises his mistake and grabs her arm. "Wait, fuck. I'm being an asshole."

"It's fine." she says with a chuckle, gently removing his grasp from her arm and clasping his hand in hers, running her thumb in a circular motion on the back of his hand. Despite the unfamiliar thinness, the hold is soft and steady, and it makes him ache for more.

"Can you hold me?" he mumbles, immediately regretting letting his words slip from him. He hopes she didn't hear that. He doesn't need her to think he wants to be babied or something; he may have been the youngest once, but not anymore. He's a grown ass adult, who looks like someone's old ass grandpa, and he doesn't need someone to pity him.

"Feeling sentimental, huh?" Crina says in humour. Before Chase can back off in embarrasment, Crina pulls him forward so his head falls against her chest, her chin resting on top and her arms cradling him close. "Yeah, sure."

It doesn't take long for his own arms to come around her. Hugs, in Crina's opinion, are the second best solution to a bad mood or an emotional crisis, applied after words failed or worked a little too well. Chase wouldn't disagree; hugs certainly worked on him most of the time. Not that he'd just let anyone come up and cuddle him, he has standards, unlike a certain freckled face fuck, but he's always enjoyed the steadiness that comes from a simple embrace. Feeling Crina's arms around him again after years of thinking and accepting that he's carved her out his life for good surely was making him feel steady, and warm, in a pleasant way, like when you're swaddled in a soft blanket on a cold evening.

"Thanks." he whispers, and whether she hears or not doesn't matter. Her hold on him tightens for a few seconds. "And I know you told me not to say it again, but I am sorry about how I left, and that you had to find me through a fucking news report, and Robert." he says, a bit louder, and he wonders if he shouldn't have, but he won't take the words back. He's not that type.

"It's fine." Crina says plainly, as if anything about this was simple, coincidental or by pure mistake. "You're here now, aren't you?"

"Yeah..." he mumbles, pulling away a few moments after. He looks at Crina's face, and she smiles, but it's sad in a way, melancholic.

"Can we try talking about something more cheerful now?" she says, giving an awkward laugh.

"Yeah, let's. Like..." he runs his mind quickly for a nice topic, thinking back on the pictures in the kitchen, specifically the little girls he doesn't know. "The little girls from the photos I do not fucking recognise." That was a good move on his part, because he can see the way Crina lightens up like a flame.

"Oh, those are Mei and Essie, Xuli and Rory's babies! Aren't they the cutest?" Chase is nodding along, because those two little girls are absolutely adorable, with bows and stars in their hair, in little dresses and overalls, but then a certain vital part of that statement registers into his mind.

"Wait! Xuli and Rory? Both of them?"

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You've missed a lot." Crina says, mirth in her tone.

She then proceeds to tell him of the years he missed. Rory returned a year after he left, he already knows, and he ran into Xuli at her job as a lifeguard by accident, he was aware. While Xuli was obviously upset that Rory didn't plan to contact any of them after his return, she got over it very quickly, much quicker than Crina had. Just like Chase would expect of her, the easy-going social butterfly. The two began to go out a lot, friendly hang-outs turning into dates without the title or the admittance, until Crina grew tired and forced them to admit to their feelings nearly a year after Rory's return. Things became much easier once they finally started dating, although Crina made sure to make it clear to him that she was over third wheeling couples. The girls were pure accidents; turns out Xuli and Rory weren't all that careful. Chase couldn't help but laugh at that, very loudly. Of fucking course. The two only got married after they found out about Essie, holding the wedding in the early months of the pregnancy. Mei had apparently been fucking adorable in her flower girl dress, with only a few teeth and unsteady toddler legs. Crina showed him pictures of little Mei, wearing a white dress with a puffy skirt that honestly looked more like a cloud, a light pink headband with a tiny bow on her head, a constant smile on her face that sold him when Crina called her precious. The little girls are 6 and 4 now. With how much happy stuff Crina was sharing about what her, Xuli and Rory had been up to, Chase has a feeling she's keeping stuff out, that everything hadn't come together as easily as she is saying, knowing the Xuli he'd left behind. She'd been depressed, and unstable, and starving, and certainly she didn't get all better in the year before Rory entered the scene. However, he chooses to stay silent, so the conversation can stay light and cheerful. They've had enough depressing as fuck discussions already. Hopefully, he could talk with Xuli herself about this someday soon. That would probably be for the better anyway.

"Damn. I would've never seen those two motherfuckers getting together. They barely talked to each other when the Brigade was still going."

"Yeah, it's funny how things change." Crina says, putting the photos away from the drawer she got them from. She's moving, barely, her feet shaking a little until she shuffles back next to him. Chase won't admit it, but seeing her walk around on her own without support makes him nervous.

A warm lull hits the two. Crina leans her head on his shoulder, her eyes peacefully closed, and Chase loosely holds one of her hands, barely noticing how boney it is. The room is bathed in a low, golden light, the sky filling with colouful hues as the evening hours passed. Chase hadn't even noticed how long had passed. He should probably be heading home, but he's unwilling to be the first one to move, to break the moment.

"Chase." Crina says, her voice quiet and soft, as if treading on melting frost. He hums. "Thank you for coming over, i had a very nice day. I enjoyed seeing you again."

"I had a nice time too."

"Don't disappear on me again. Please." Crina isn't the type to plead, but he can hear the fearful begging in her voice.

"Wasn't planning on it." he says passively. Crina pulls away, and he meets her eyes to see she has a frown painted on her face.

"You better not, asshole, or I will personally find you and break your legs off. I know where you work, and I can always contact Robert if needed-"

"Okay, okay! Fucking hell, you don't need to threaten me!"

"I'll hold you to that." she says, before breaking the frown for something more mournful and cradling his face in her palms. "Keep yourself safe. Keep Robert safe. Don't let him run off again."

"I will." He can definitely keep that promise. Crina smiles, and he smiles back.

There are many things they still need to talk about, so much that has been swept aside for the moment to be dealt with later, but as Chase picks himself up to leave, he feels as if a massive weight has been removed from his chest. Once out the door, he turns around to give his final goodbye. Crina is leaning against the door frame, probably to keep herself upright, but he doesn't let the reminder of her illness frighten him off again as he goes in for another hug, much shorter than the one before. When the two pull away, Crina gives him a brief kiss on the cheek, a familiar sentiment that he knows will probably leave a stain on his cheek from the lipstick, but one he appreciates nonetheless after all these years.

"See you soon." he says, turning away, feeling exhaustion shrivel at him. He should probably run home as quickly as possible.

"Better be so. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't be, I can promise you that." he says, moving into position. Crina chuckles, crossing her arms casually. "Keep up."

In a flash, Chase is gone, leaving behind only dust and ruffled surroundings. It should give her dread, seeing Chase run away already, but now she knows he'll come back. For the first time in 9 years, she knows she'll see him again, and he'll see her.

The stars seem to shine brighter tonight, despite the city smog.