Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"…And everyone will be happy," she reads aloud. "Love, Chris and Eagly."

Leota lowers the scrawled note with a shaking hand, her grip so tight on the thin piece of notepad paper that she's sure it will tear under her fingertips. She swallows hard against the emotional lump that had formed in her throat and puts on a brave face as looks to her team—her friends. The 11^th Street Kids.

Despite Chris' parting words it seems that none of them are happy with his decision to leave. Harcourt's jaw is clenched and trembling in a way that Leota knows means she is just barely managing to contain the scream of rage that's threatening to break out of her. She doesn't move, and neither does Economos who looks paler than Leota had ever seen him while he stares out at nothing in some kind of resigned shock.

Adrian is the only one of them who gets up after the letter is finished, surprising them all by shooting to his feet abruptly enough that his knees crack. He steps in a zombie like daze around Harcourt and into the bedroom, his face eerily blank in a way that Leota has never seen before. The arm Economos had draped over the sofa behind Adrian makes an aborted move to reach for him then flops back down with Economos' quiet, "fuck."

"I'm sorry," Leota whispers more to herself than the others when she finally lets the note slip from her fingers. Deep down she isn't even sure what she's apologizing for—the words on the page, the fact that her voice broke so many times when she'd read them, or that the entire goodbye was addressed to her and her alone. "I-I'm so—"

"Don't, Ads," Harcourt interrupts. "This isn't your fault."

"It's not yours either, Ems," Leota reminds her, despite Chris' parting words.

Harcourt purses her lips and turns her attention to the portal device that is beeping faintly in the ensuing silence. She plops it open onto the table in front of her and Economos, who seems grateful for the distraction even while his eyes dart from the device to the open bedroom doorway. Harcourt studies him for a moment and gently grips his hand before turning to Leota.

"Ads," she says softly with a nod to the other room. "Could you…?" There's no mistaking the meaning in that brief glance, and Leota doesn't need telling twice.

"Hey Adrian?" she says softly just outside of the doorjamb, not wanting to intrude on him if he doesn't want company, or if he's in a particularly volatile mood. "You good, man…?"

When she doesn't hear a response she takes a cautious step forward, unsure what to expect as unpredictable as Adrian is, and her face falls when she sees him.

Adrian had claimed to not feel emotions like normal people do—that doesn't seem to be the case in the moment when she takes in the raw devastation on his expressive face. He doesn't try to say anything when he looks up at her approach, and neither does she when she sits next to him on the bed. She merely puts a comforting arm around him and pulls him close just as the dam that has been holding back a lifetime of painful emotions finally breaks, spilling decades of repressed anguish in its wake.

It's a long time before his desperate sobbing slows to sniffles and hiccups against her shoulder, but even after his tears have slowed he still does not give up the vice grip he has on her while she holds him close to rub gentle circles into his shuddering back.

She swallows back her own emotions enough to softly ask, "hey Adrian, do you know how many eyes a manta ray has?"

He's quiet for a beat. "T-two," he whispers. "On the sides, like this." He moves one of his hands to his temple and pokes out a finger in imitation of a stalk. He holds it there for just a second, then goes right back to grasping Letoa's shirt.

"Mhmm," she hums, rocking him gently. "And how big can manta rays get?"

He sniffles loudly. "Weight or w-wingspan?"

"Wingspan."

"Like a hundred feet."

"Wow that…that's good to know." She has no idea if it's true, or if any of his farfetched sounding animal facts are, despite how confidently he always says them.

"Is this a quiz?" he asks, his strained voice still muffled against her.

"Yup."

"…Did I pass?"

"You did," she assures him. "Great job."

"Peacemaker used to quiz me all the time," he whispers shakily. "It was fun. But he hasn't wanted to do anything fun in forever. I really miss him already."

"I know," she says, squeezing him close to her chest. "I miss him too."

He hugs her back just as tightly. "Sorry I face muscle exercised so much on you."

It takes her a second to get his meaning, then she lets out a sound that's half sob, half chuckle. "It's all good, Adrian," she tells him. "You can do all the face exercises you want on me. I'm not goin' anywhere."

He blinks up at her, eyes wide and shiny with desperation. "You promise?"

"I promise."

-_-

Later, when they're standing in front of a doorway to another dimension, about to bravely embark on their rescue mission while dusted in cocaine, she'll hesitate for just a moment to wonder if they were merely about to become lambs to the cosmic slaughter, potentially sacrificing themselves for their misguided friend who left for a mysterious alternate universe he thought was better without the rest of them in it.

Adrian's the one who nudges her along. His face is mostly hidden behind his mask but there is no mistaking the determined twinkle in his eye when he says, "time to go save our BFF. And meet another me!!!"

She grins right back with the confidence she needs to keep a level head as she steps into that other world, unknowing of where it will take her. All she can do is hope that it leads them to their Chris soon enough so she can give him a piece of her mind and make sure he gets it through his thick skull that she isn't the only loved one he'd so callously left behind.

FIN.

Chapter Text

"I told you to leave us alone you fuckin' twerp!!!"

Dorian "Gut" Chase rounded on his little brother, who seemed determined in the moment to be the most annoying thing in the universe.

"Ahhh he's fine, Gut," Christopher Smith said with a smirk, clapping Gut on the back with his giant palm. "I say let him hang around with the big kids, maybe it'll toughen him up some."

He scowled but didn't argue with the other teen, not even when Adrian skipped by with a shit eating grin on his face while he trailed after Chris.

Gut considered himself the luckiest guy in the world that the cooler, older tough kid in his class wanted to be his friend. He would even put with the bullying and name calling, and the fact that Chris' dad was an actual real life piece of shit super villain didn't bother him either. It was common knowledge around high school that Mr. Smith had been in and out of jail for a long time; there was even a rumor going around that Chris had been held back twice because he'd skipped too much school acting as his old man's murderous sidekick over the years.

None of that would ever deter Gut from wanting to have him as a badass friend, in fact Chris' only unlikeable trait was that he didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest by Adrian's attention seeking antics, ever since the kid asked what Gut's nickname meant:

"Why do you call my brother Prince Charming?" Adrian had innocently asked him one day. "He's not a prince, or very charming."

To Gut's horror Chris had given the seven year old an honest answer, to which Adrian responded by pulling his pants and underwear down in front of them to demand a nickname of his own. Chris howled with laughter, declared the little boy's dick was a thimble, and Adrian had been practically glued to the teenager's shadow ever since. He'd made a habit of spying on the older boys whenever they hung out, and no amount of Gut complaining to their mother would ever be enough to get the brat off his back.

"Adrian loves you, Dory," she would sweetly say. "He just wants to spend time with his big brother."

Which to Gut actually meant that mom didn't want to deal with Adrian either, and because Adrian had no friends it was up to Gut to occupy his brother whenever they weren't in school. As if Gut ever wanted to hang out with a weirdly obnoxious four-eyed kid half his age, a kid who followed him and Chris wherever they went, whether it was to make out with girls by the lake, to get wasted in the skate park, to get high in the old sewer drains, or to shoot guns in the forest like they were about to.

"…Why're you guys goin' in the woods anyway?" Adrian asked in a squeaky voice. "I like to go to the woods to look for big bugs sometimes, that's fun."

"Doesn't sound like fun," Chris scoffed.

"It is! It's fun to catch 'em and squish 'em and watch their guts pop out!"

Chris shook his head with a bemused chuckle. "Damn, Thimble, that's fucking sick."

"Yeah! Except don't ever squish spiders, I like spiders."

"Sure, little dude," Chris humored him. "Spiders are cool."

Adrian beamed up at the teen, his grin revealing a number of gaps in his baby teeth. Gut just rolled his eyes and stomped ahead, shoving Adrian out of his way as he went.

They approached a clearing deep in the trees behind Chris' grandfather's hunting cabin where a row of five brand new Beanie Babies had been laid out on a fallen tree trunk. Chris pulled a handgun out of the back of his pants and held it out to Adrian first.

"You ever handle one of these, short stuff?" he asked, but Gut grabbed it before the boy could.

"What the fuck, man?!" he snapped. "You can't give a little kid a gun!"

Chris shrugged. "Whatever, dude," he scoffed. "I was probably younger than him when I used my first glock."

"Yeah, 'cause your dad is a literal super villain!"

"Well at least my dad doesn't fuck other dudes!"

"Hey, not cool, man!"

Adrian, meanwhile, was oblivious to their shouting while he stared slack jawed and entranced by the shiny new toy before him. He reached for the barrel of the handgun and had just managed to wrap his tiny fingers around the metal when Gut finally caught on to what he was doing and slapped Adrian's hand away as hard as he could. Adrian yelped and curled his fingers protectively against his chest, all the while glaring up at his brother.

"Dude, c'mon," Chris griped, rolling his eyes as if Gut was the one being unreasonable. "Leave your bro alone, it's not a big deal."

"No, it's a very big deal! I'm sick of him always buggin' us!" Gut rounded on his brother and bent down to the boy's level. "Just go home, you little shit," Gut shouted directly in Adrian's face. "Get the fuck out of here right now or I'll tell mom you were playing with guns and you'll be in big trouble!"

"Then I'll tell mom you were gonna play with 'em first," the boy yelled back, unflinching under Gut's rage as his voice rose to a shrill pitch. "And then I'll tell her all the other times I saw you with bad stuff and having drugs and doing sex and—"

Gut silenced his insufferable brother with a powerful right hook that knocked the kid on his ass and sent his glasses flying. He would have continued pummeling the brat, heedless of the look of wide eyed shock on Adrian's bloodied face, except that he suddenly found himself sprawled onto the hard ground too.

He brought his hand to his throbbing jaw where Chris had hit him out of nowhere. "What the fu—"

Chris' massive body straddled his chest while he wound up for another punch that left Gut seeing stars. When his vision cleared he blinked to see wild blue eyes in a face flushed with fury as Chris leaned over him, practically spitting in his face.

"He's your fucking brother, you fucking piece of shit," Chris screamed. "You could've fucking killed him!!!"

"N-no," Gut managed to stutter. "I…I-I wasn't—"

Chris punched Gut in the gut to silence him, a move that took his breath away and sent a shockwave of pain through his flabby stomach.

"You ever hit the kid like that again and I swear I'll fucking end you, Gut. You hear me, dipshit?!"

Gut was genuinely terrified of the ferocity that was etched into Chris' face—there was no doubt in his mind that his friend really would kill him. Chris rattled him hard when he didn't get an immediate answer.

"Y-yeah, sure, whatever, man," Gut stammered. "Fuck, I don't even care!"

Chris feigned a punch and Gut flinched back with a whimper. Satisfied, Chris finally climbed off of Gut and jammed his gun back into his pants, then moved to retrieve Adrian's fallen glasses while the little boy stared up at him in awe.

"You okay there, Thimble?"

Adrian's nose was bleeding and his cheek was red and already darkening to a bruise, but he nodded, still staring starry eyed at Chris. "Yuh huh," he squeaked while he gingerly returned his glasses to his face. "'M okay."

"Good," Chris said. "Looks like you just need some ice for that shiner. C'mon, I gotcha."

With that he hoisted Adrian into the air to sit on his shoulders while Adrian squealed with delight and took hold of Chris' big ears for balance. Adrian turned to look at Dorian, still sprawled in the dirt, and narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. He stuck his tongue out at his brother then smiled and put all of his attention on Chris again.

"Can I play with your Beanie Babies when you're done with them?" Adrian asked.

"Here, you can have them now," Chris said as he doubled back to scoop up the dolls and pass them to Adrian over his head. "I don't think you'd want 'em after I was done."

Adrian hugged the Beanie Babies close, oblivious to the fact that they had originally been intended for target practice while Chris walked them back on the path that led to the cabin. "Hey, wanna hear some cool spider facts?" he asked.

"Sure, little dude."

"Yay! Did you know tarantulas are furry?"

"Yeah, no duh," Chris snorted. "Everybody knows that."

"Okaaay, did you know sometimes they can get as big as big buildings and then stomp all over everybody?!"

"That I did not know. Huh."

"I saw it happen on tv once! I hope I get to see a spider that big for real someday…"

Gut scowled and watched them go while Adrian spewed more bullshit for the attention. Gut was pretty sure Chris didn't even know his kid brother's actual name and yet there he was, sticking up for the little shit and humoring him like he always did. It was infuriating.

But Gut didn't have any other friends to hang out with or anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon, so he trailed after Chris and Adrian and listened to them talk about spiders with his figurative tail between his legs.

-_-

Gut would get his revenge later in the week while mom was still at work.

He found Adrian lying on his stomach on the living room floor while he chatted to himself and meticulously colored in all of the colorable letters printed on his unfinished homework sheets. Chris' Beanie Babies were sitting in a half circle in front of him as his audience, all carefully arranged until Gut kicked them over.

Adrian shouted, his face going red when Gut suddenly sat on him so he couldn't get up. Adrian flailed kicked and screamed under the weight but couldn't do anything, not even bite his brother while Gut systematically took each and every one of the toy animals and tore them open with his bare hands. He dismembered limbs, popped stitches, tore out eyeballs, and spilled bean guts directly over Adrian's head.

"You stay the fuck away from me and my friend," Gut snarled down at his brother. "Or else."

Then he left Adrian to have his screaming tantrum amongst the Beanie Babies' decimated remains, smug in his victory over his bothersome little brother.

FIN…?

Twenty-five years later Dorian—now a shrewd lawyer for some of Gotham's more notorious clientele—is approached after hours in his office by two men who he already recognizes as a couple of the city's usual run of the mill goons.

"We need to get to the Peacemaker," one of them declares, "and you're going to help us."

The goon surprises Dorian by showing him a photo of two smiling men taken unawares in some parking lot. Christopher Smith is immediately recognizable, though the man is even bigger and bulkier than Dorian remembers. He's heard about Chris becoming some wannabe loser superhero, otherwise he's had nothing to do with the man since their high school graduation, after which Dorian moved across the country to attend Gotham Law and Chris joined the military.

The other figure in the picture takes him longer to place, and he's shocked when he realizes that he knows the obnoxious grin beneath a pair of dorky glasses. He hasn't seen his little brother in years. He hasn't even been back home to Evergreen in nearly a decade—despite his mother's frequent invitations—and he certainly hasn't thought about Adrian or Chris in a long, long time.

Still, an old flame of jealousy suddenly flares from deep within him when he sees the two have apparently remained close.

"Sure , I can help you," he tells the men through gritted teeth. "Anything for Roman."

To be continued…eventually…

Chapter Text

Sorry, babe, Leota's text reads. Working late. Don't wait up.

Keeya stares down at the message, at the formality of it. At the lack of "love you" or any kind of emoji, both of which used to be staples after even their briefest text conversations. Keeya sighs heavily and sets her phone face down on the dinette table. She's suddenly lost her appetite as she moves mechanically to blow out the candles and put away the meal she'd made to be a romantic surprise for her wife.

She's been trying for weeks to show Leota how proud she was of her standing up to her mom while supporting her through the tumultuous time. They were both all too aware that Leota could come out of Project Butterfly and her outing of Waller unemployed, which Keeya saw as a blessing. Leota could put the spy life behind her and the couple could finally, finally move on with their original dreams to start a pet shop together.

But Keeya's barely seen her wife since they relocated to Evergreen. Lately her messages have been left on read or she's given the same kind of straightforward response again and again:

Working late again. Tell fur babies good night for me.

So Keeya does just that, even while her mind spirals around uncertainties in an empty loneliness.

-_-

Leota was supposed to meet Keeya at Jitters. She'd insisted that she would only be at headquarters for a couple hours that morning, that she just needed to finalize something or rather in her ongoing case against Waller.

Keeya isn't exactly surprised to have been forgotten about again while she sits alone at a little café table, staring at her phone and the short where r u?? text she'd sent almost an hour earlier. There is still no response, not even the bouncing dots of an attempted message. She would be worried, except this is far from the first time Leota has done this to her.

She sighs heavily and gets to her feet. She's just about to leave the coffee shop when she spies the "Help Wanted" sign on a bulletin board next to the entrance. Keeya has only recently started looking for a job of her own, knowing that if Leota continues to jeopardize her career with whatever she's doing to her mom then one of them at least needs some kind of stable income to live off of.

Keeya considers how dire her situation is for a moment, then turns back to the barista for an application.

-_-

It's when Leota blows her off again for work despite their scheduled dinner plans that Keeya decides to check things out for herself. She finds Leota's location and has every intention of bursting in to the headquarters and valiantly saving her wife from an endless drudgery of government spy work.

But when she walks up to a closed video store—Henenlotter, the peeling and barely legible sign says—and peers through the partially covered windows she's surprised to see no sign of an organized office, or anyone even working for that matter.

Instead she spots her wife and four others seemingly having a party while they drink and dance to some rock song Keeya doesn't recognize, the kind of music she didn't think Leota would ever listen to, but there it was, playing loudly from her wife's familiar little boom box.

♪ "…Liiife is a biiitch, but she's totallyyy doable. She may be a beauty, but liiife, life is a bitch… ♫

Keeya's seen the blonde before at least, back at the hotel when the ornery woman had banged on their window in the middle of the night and demanded Leota get to work. She's currently sitting with a beer bottle in hand and a forearm crutch leaning against her chair while she grins at her coworkers' antics, similar to the giant of a man seated next to her who has a cast going halfway up his leg.

Their injuries are a result of the mysterious Project Butterfly no doubt, though Keeya still has no idea what actually went down before Leota came home with a bandage taped to her head and the declaration that the 11^th Street Kids had saved the planet, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

Standing with Leota now in the video store are two men, one big and bulky wearing some band t-shirt stretched taught across his chest muscles; the other a bespectacled dork in clothes that make him look like his mother dressed him.

"Take it, Ads!" the biggest guy shouts while he points directly at Leota.

"'Ads'?" Keeya repeats to herself in a confounded whisper.

She watches when her wife gleefully joins the glasses wearing guy in his bizarre hip motions while the big man chants "butt dance butt dance butt dance!!!" and the others laugh and drink and have a grand old time.

They're certainly not doing any kind of secret agent work, Keeya concludes, and the fact that Leota lied to her hurts most of all. She watches for only a moment before the betrayal and heart ache is too much to bear. She goes home to a dingy apartment instead, where at least her dogs seem happy to see her.

-_-

"So, busy last night?" Keeya asks the next morning.

"Ugh, yeah, had to deal with some a-holes who work for my mom that keep getting all up in my shit," Leota's averts her gaze just slightly, and Keeya thinks that if she hadn't already caught her wife in a lie she might not have noticed the tell. Lee's gotten scary good at lying. "It's a lot harder to dismantle a super secret government agency than I thought."

"Sure." Keeya chews on her lip for a moment, debating if she should call Leota out. Instead she takes a calming breath and puts on a smile. "Maybe we should do something fun this weekend, just the two of us? We could do a day trip to a winery or something. We haven't done that in a long time."

"Sorry, babe, I can't," Leota says, sounding genuinely apologetic but unwavering in her plans when she explains, "Chris is dealing with this whole legal to do about his dead dad's house, I told him I'd help him out."

Keeya stares at her. "Chris?"

"Yeah, he's the big lug from work, I told you about him."

"You've mentioned him," Keeya points out with a frown. "Barely."

Leota ducks her head with a guilty grimace. "I really am sorry, Key, but I already have plans with him. We could try some other time, maybe in a couple weeks—"

"Lee, wasn't the whole point of exposing Waller to get away from that kind of life?" Keeya interrupts, her voice rising with the anger she can no longer hold back. "I thought you were done with those people?"

"They're my friends, Key," Leota answers defensively. "They're like family to me."

"'Like' family? Fuck, Lee, I am your family, or did you forget that?!"

"No, of course not," Leota says with a shake of her head. "It's just…it's different, is all. I mean, we been through some shit together, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Keeya snaps back. "Because you never tell me what's going on with you anymore!"

"C'mon, that's not fair."

"No, what's not fair is you practically ignoring me for months! Ever since you took this job and moved us out here it's like you're a different person!"

"I'm still me," Leota insists, looking genuinely surprised by Keeya's accusation. "I'm just tryin' to keep you safe! From, like, aliens and my mom and—"

"So you think cutting me completely out of your life is keeping me safe, and yet somehow you still expect me to be here waiting for you?" Keeya scoffs. "Fuck, Lee, that's not how relationships are supposed to work! That's not how we were supposed to work. We had plans, remember?!"

Leota bites her lip. "What if I wanna make a new plan?"

Keeya feels her rage bubbling to the surface. But she's tired of fighting with her wife, tired of pointless arguments that only leave them more upset than when they started. "Just go, Lee."

Leota rears back, her eyes wide with surprise. "Wh-what?"

"Go hang out with your friends, go to Chris' for the night, I don't give a shit. I just…I can't do this with you right now."

"But—"

Keeya shakes her head and deliberately turns away so she doesn't have to look at Leota through the tears suddenly burning her eyes. "We'll talk tomorrow," she says, her voice as steady as she can make it. "We need to actually sit down together and figure out how we're gonna pay this month's bills."

She hears her wife hesitate for a moment before she utters a soft, shaky, "I really am sorry, Key. I love you."

Then she closes the door softly behind her as she goes, at which point Keeya finally breaks down.

FIN.

Chapter Text

"…And I shall have my revenge, on behalf of all gorilla kind!"

Chris groans in annoyance. All he wanted to do was finally finish moving from his shithole of a trailer to his dad's marginally less shitty house. Now he's got a talking costumed gorilla threatening him in broad daylight, as if that's not a fucked up thing to do on a guy's day off.

"Listen, monkey bro," he snaps. "Whoever the fuck you are—"

"I am Grodd," the gorilla bellows in return, "and I will have my revenge!!!"

"Okay, sure, I get it, sorry about your pal Charlie from the zoo," Chris says. "But technically we didn't kill him, a butterfly alien did when it scrambled his brains to take over his body."

"A fitting excuse," Grodd growls, bearing his pointed teeth while he slams his massive fists against his gorilla chest. "For I intend to scramble your brains in return!"

With that the gorilla lowers his head so a glowing metal antennae on the top of his helmet is pointed directly at Chris, who has just enough sense to drop the box he was carrying and duck inside the trailer before a concussive blast literally knocks his door off its hinges and sends him flying backwards against the opposite wall. The entire trailer rocks precariously, spilling the many carefully organized boxes of Chris' belongings.

Eagly squawks his annoyance over his disturbed perch while a disheveled Adrian pops his head out from underneath the mess.

"Whoa," he says, straightening his crooked glasses on his nose. "What the actual fuck, since when do we get earthquakes?!"

"Not an earthquake, dude," Chris shouts as he points outside where Grodd is making his slow, menacing approach on all fours.

Adrian's eyes follow Chris' finger and he beams with delight. "Oh sick, another gorilla!"

"Yeah, another one trying to fucking kill us!" Chris sees Grodd preparing to unleash another blast and grabs Adrian by the arm to haul him out of the debris. "C'mon, we gotta get out of here! Eagly, let's go!"

He yanks Adrian outside through his back door while Eagly soars after them with a screech just before the trailer is rocked again, this time hard enough to knock over onto its side. Chris and Adrian dive for the edge of the forest line and just manage to clear the fallen roof when it slams onto the ground at their feet.

"Whoa," Adrian gasps. "Good thing you've got your piece of shit dad's place to live in now, huh P?"

"But I was gonna keep the trailer too, as like an awesome extra fuck pad or something!"

"Ooh, bummer, that sucks. Sorry, dude!"

Chris barely gets the chance to lament his destroyed home when Grodd lets out a deafening roar. Chris scrambles to his feet with Adrian in tow and sprints away into the forest behind Eagly, following a familiar route to their usual stomping grounds. The guns and ammo are packed already but Chris is sure there are plenty of blunt objects lying around they could use in a fight.

"Too bad Economos isn't here with a chainsaw," Adrian muses while they run for their lives. "He is our gorilla killing expert!"

They've just reached the clearing when Chris hears Grodd's massive body storm through the forest behind them. Chris tackles Adrian to the dirt just as another concussive blast flies over their heads and knocks over the trees around them, causing an avalanche of evergreens and a whirlwind of broken appliance parts.

Eagly shrieks and swoops down to rake his claws against Grodd's face. The gorilla howls, more in annoyance than pain, and easily swats Eagly aside. Chris moves to rush the villain in retaliation and gets a full blast of shockwaves that knocks the wind out of him when he's sent hurtling until his back smashes against the trunk of a massive tree, sending bark flying with the impact.

He blinks stars from his eyes just enough to see Adrian stab a fallen branch pointy side first into the gorilla's massive shoulder. Grodd smacks him away with a roar and Adrian rolls his landing to a stop next to Eagly who is ruffling his feathers as he recovers from his own blow.

Grodd looks at Chris in the distance, covered in splinters and pine needles and struggling to get to his feet, then at Adrian and Eagly who are clearly itching for a fight. The gorilla's mouth curls to a malicious grin.**

"Noble of you to defend your friend," Grodd tells Chris' partners as he touches the front of his helmet. "But let's see how he fares against you instead."

"No," Chris gasps even as Adrian and Eagly move in tandem to attack Grodd, heedless of the gorilla's warning. "Don't!"

A beam of red shoots from Grodd's head and hits both Adrian and Eagly, stopping them in their tracks. The attack only lasts a second before the red glare is gone, leaving Adrian blinking from the light and Eagly shaking his feathery head.

"Ow, shit, what the fuck, dude?!" Adrian whines, rubbing at his eyes. "Did you just laser pointer us?! Cheap shot, fuck!"

  Chris lets out the breath he had been holding. He thinks Grodd's intended attack didn't work, until Eagly lets out a low caw the likes of which Chris has never heard before.

"Do not be afraid, little bird," Grodd says, smirking as a gem glows red from his helmet like a malevolent third eye on his forehead. "The Prime Eagle you may be, but I've controlled much stronger willed beasts than you in the past."

Eagly stops shaking his head and goes utterly still. His scrunched shut eyes suddenly pop open, but instead of their usual golden hue they are tinged an eerie red.

Adrian's own eyes widen when he stares down at the eagle. "Uh oh," he manages just before Eagly lets out a deafening screech then clamps his sharp beak around Adrian's leg. "Ow, fuck, Eagly! No, not cool!!!"

He struggles to shake Eagly off of his calf to no avail, his torn pants already dripping with blood. He loses his balance and tips over backwards onto the dirt, at which point Eagly shrieks and goes for the kill, pecking at Adrian's face while he flails and shouts beneath the bird of prey.

Chris scrambles over to them and grabs Eagly around the torso like he has so many times before, only now the eagle is flapping his powerful wings and squirming and clawing the air until he's finally free to shoot straight up into sky. Chris knows he only has a moment to find cover—he spies an oversized freezer riddled with bullet holes and hauls a dazed Adrian up to chuck him inside. He leaps in after Adrian and slams the door shut over their heads just as Eagly dive bombs at them beak first.

The bird claws and pecks and screams at the chest while they remain squished front to front in the small pitch black space, safe for the time being at least. Grodd's laugh echoes through the forest outside, relishing in his victory while he forces Eagly to continue attacking his humans.

"Damn, Eagly is super hard core," Adrian gasps from the darkness directly in front of Chris where the tips of their noses are pressed together. Chris smells blood and assumes it's Adrian's.

"Fuck, Vij," Chris breathes against Adrian's mouth, bracing them against another disorienting blow when Eagly pummels himself at the freezer's lid directly over Chris' bent back. "Are you okay?!"

"Oh, yeah, I think he mostly got my glasses," Adrian assures him. "Good thing too, or I'd probably have no eyeballs right now."

"Gross, dude." The freezer is rocked again and Chris hunches as best as he can over Adrian to avoid crushing him while they're tangled together in the small space. 

"So what do we do now?" Adrian asks.

"We can't hurt Eagly," Chris says adamantly in response. "It's not his fault he went all batshit crazy."

"Sooo we're just gonna live in this freezer together forever?"

"No," Chris snaps. He's already uncomfortably cramping where his limbs are folded to fit the tight space and Adrian's knobby knees are pressing painfully against his crotch. "We're gonna get out of here, save Eagly, and fuck up another gorilla. In that order."

"Okay, but how though?"

Chris didn't exactly have an answer for that, and even if he did it would have been interrupted by a sudden bellowing screech. The sound came from Eagly, he's sure of it, but there's a deep undertone to the eagle's usually high pitched call, a terrifying sound that chills him to the bone.

Eerie silence follows, and just when Chris thinks it might be safe to peek outside he hears a series of loud whooshes right before a powerful force pushes against the side of the freezer, upending it and spilling the two men out into the dirt.

They land in pile of metal and parts from whatever garbage they'd left behind after one of their escapades into the woods. Chris looks up just in time to see Eagly land on the remains of a coffee maker directly in front of him with his wings outstretched as he throws his white head back and shrieks into the sky. Within moments there's a flurry of feathers that leaves him and Adrian surrounded by at least a half a dozen more eagles, seemingly all following the possessed Eagly's command.

"Dude," Adrian gasps, "did you know Eagly had so many friends besides us?!"

"Obviously not," Chris snaps, never breaking eye contact with Eagly's blood red gaze. "Otherwise we woulda all hung out all the time!"

Eagly is still as a statue while he stares as Chris, as if he and the other birds of prey are waiting for something. That something—or rather someone—is Grodd when he swings from a tree to land just behind Eagly with a malicious grin on his face.

"No, wait, Eagly," Chris starts as he scrambles to his feet with his hands raised to placate his sidekick. "Eagly, it's me, it's dad! C'mon bud, I know you're in there, please, you just gotta come back to me! Don't listen to the mean monkey man!"

Eagly's brows seem to furrow but otherwise he doesn't move or make any indication that he understood Chris at all. But Eagly doesn't attack him either, so Chris keeps trying.

"I promise I will give you so many treats if you just snap out of it! You can have all the chips and bologna and cereal you want, fuck I'll even get you fucking…beluga caviar or whatever fancy shit! Don't listen to the gorilla! Fight him, Eagly, I know you can do it!!!"

"Enough," Grodd growls. "Finish him, bird."

Eagly lowers his head and spreads his wings, his little legs bent and ready to spring in Chris' direction. Chris realizes then that he hasn't gotten through to Eagly, the best non human friend he could have asked for. Eagly lets out a low, vicious sounding chirp and in Chris' mind all he can see is the cute little fuzzy chick that he'd rescued and raised all those years ago. He squeezes his eyes shut, resigned to his fate. He thinks if nothing else at least dying by eagle is a pretty badass way to go.

"Oh wait, duh," Adrian says from behind him, and Chris' eyes snap open just in time to see him hurl an iron rod at Grodd. It hits the glowing red gem dead center, shattering it instantly and knocking the entire helmet clean off of the gorilla's head.

Eagly suddenly goes rigid, blinking rapidly as the red shine fades from his eyes. He shakes his feathers and looks around, head cocking in Chris' direction as a clear "what the fuck just happened?!" eagle expression.

The other birds of prey appear to be just as confused, looking from the humans, then to Eagly, then to Grodd where he's kneeling on the ground, desperately trying to piece his broken helmet back together.

"Fuck all of you idiot humans," he shouts. "I will have my revenge for all gorillas, you will pay! You will pay for what you've done!!!"

Eagly narrows his eyes at the gorilla then glances back at Chris, as if waiting for instruction.

Chris smirks. "Sic 'em, Eagly."

Eagly spreads his wings and lets out a screech that's echoed by his fellow eagles. Together they rise into the air and take turns streaking across Grodd's broad back, raking him with their sharp talons as they go. The gorilla cries out and attempts to swat at the birds while he runs for his life, barreling away from them through the forest.

Eagly lets his friends finish taking the gorilla out and returns to Chris, rubbing at his leg with a contented little coo.

"Good job, bud," Chris praises.

"Yeah, good job, Eagly," Adrian adds enthusiastically. "I don't even care that you tried to peck me to death!"

Chris finally gets a good look at Adrian's face in the light and gags when he sees all the blood and shredded skin surrounding cracked glasses and a toothy grin. "Holy fuck, dude!!!"

"What?" Adrian asks, smile falling behind the gore. "Is there something on my face?!"

-_-

"Okay, P," Adrian says, despite Chris' instruction to stay still while he gently cleans all the blood from his face and bandages the still oozing but thankfully not dire cuts. Adrian's thickly bandaged leg is already propped up on a cushion where they sit in the tipped over trailer and mess of Chris' belongings—it's a miracle they even managed to find the first aid kit amidst the destruction. "Now you gotta quiz me on eagle facts."

Eagly chatters his agreement from Adrian's lap. He's been perched there, nuzzling his apologies against Adrian's chest ever since they returned to the decimated trailer.

"No way, V," Chris tells them both. "I know a ton more about eagles than you do."

"Exactly, you know all the right answers already!"

"Which doesn't make it a very fun quiz, now does it?"

"It—" Adrian's mouth snaps shut and he blinks slowly. "Oh. Huh, I guess not."

Chris grins to himself, hoping to finish tending to Adrian now that he's finally stopped talking. But of course the quiet doesn't last long.

"Oh, I know," Adrian says. "Quiz me on gorilla facts instead!"

Chris sighs heavily. "Fine. How many eyes does a gorilla have?"

"Two," Adrian answers, and Eagly lets out short squawk. "Oh that's right, good call, Eagly! We are changing our answer to two eyes unless the gorilla is a Cyclops, then they only have one eye."

"Yup, you got it right," Chris humors him.

Adrian beams at the praise behind the many bandages that are stuck to his face while Eagly chirps happily and head buts Adrian's chest. "Eagly says ask us another one! He knows more about gorillas than I do, apparently."

"Sure, dude," Chris chuckles as he wracks his brain for gorilla questions, knowing that each and every answer he gets will be confirmed as correct, regardless of how ridiculous it might sound.

FIN…?

Chapter Text

"You fucking bitch," the last man standing snarls as he hauls Harcourt to her feet and literally throws her towards the open doorway where she lands face first on a scratchy beer soaked welcome mat. "Get the fuck out of here!!!"

Behind her his friends and fellow wannabe tough guys are already sprawled on the ground, groaning pathetically while they clutch their broken limbs and cover their bloodied faces. She spits blood of her own from her mouth and grins back at them, a no doubt horrifying toothy smile that's stained red.

"Why don't you make me, asshole?!" She pushes herself to her feet, staggering slightly before she regains her footing and moves to attack the Hulk Hogan looking motherfucker again. "C'mon, you ugly piece of shit! I'll fucking—"

She's interrupted by the sudden bleating of a siren and flashes of red and blue behind her in the parking lot, then a handful of uniformed officers are stomping towards her, their hands already on their side arms.

"This chick started it," the bartender shouts to the cops, phone still pressed to his ear when he'd no doubt called 9-1-1 like a fucking tattle tale. "She just beat the crap out of these guys for no reason!"

"Oh, right, 'no reason,' suuure," she snarks sarcastically back. "Because I'm just supposed to sit back and do absolutely nothing while some misogynistic prick objectifies me and then can't even back up his own bullshit tough guy act?!"

The officers are approaching her with handcuffs, moving slowly like she's some rabid unpredictable animal that needs subduing. She rolls her eyes to the heavens and groans "god fucking damnit," but goes willingly into the back of a squad car. The last thing she needs if she ever wants to work again is to tarnish her stained record any further, and she has a feeling that beating the shit out of a few wet behind the ears beat cops would not be taken well by her counselor at A.R.G.U.S.

In fact she's pretty sure that when the doc told her she needs to find a "creative outlet for her feelings" he meant that she should keep a journal or some other lame pussy bullshit. He most likely didn't expect her to scour Evergreen's dive bars for every motherfucker who rightfully deserves to be taken down a peg just so she can vent some of her violent rage.

She closes her eyes with a quiet, "fuck" as she resigns herself to a long, miserable night.

-_-

She sits still and silently contemplative in the holding cell, studying the cracks and stains in the walls, practically quivering while she tries and fails to calm the storm still raging inside of her until—

"Harcourt, you're free to go."

She blinks up at the officer in the doorway. It's only been a few hours, she thought she'd be stuck in lockup until morning at least. "Already?"

"Yup," he says. "Your bail was posted and no one back at the bar is pressing charges. Seems none of them wants to admit a woman beat them up. Lucky you."

"Right," she huffs. "Lucky me."

She follows him through barred doors with her head held high and her limp barely noticeable as she is directed to the waiting room, where her savior suddenly bounces to his feet with a wide grin that falters when he sees the blood and bruises on her face.

"Whoa, you look like total shit," Adrian tells her bluntly.

"Thanks," she mutters, bypassing him to exit the claustrophobic building. When she gets outside she takes a deep breath of refreshing cool night air, wincing when her busted ribcage twinges.

"Want me to kill whoever did this?" Adrian asks from just over her shoulder. "Because I can—"

"No," she snaps before he can say anything else incriminating outside of a literal police station. "No, it's fine. The whole thing was a stupid misunderstanding. That's all."

"Gotcha," Adrian says unconvincingly. "So I just need to make them understand, quote unquote. Which means…what exactly? Threaten their families, maybe cut off an appendage or two…?"

She sighs heavily. "It means nothing, Adrian. All I need you to do is take me home, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sure! I can do that," he says, his pace brisk and chipper when he jogs ahead of her to open his car's passenger side door and gesture her gentlemanly inside. "Your Vigilante Mobile awaits!"

She slumps into the passenger seat and tries not to think of what a bizarre reversal this is from the last time the two of them were leaving a prison. She had called Adrian specifically because she knew he would be the most discreet about her situation. The last thing she needs is Ads or, god forbid, Chris fretting unnecessarily over her own self destructive behaviors.

Hence Adrian, the only person she could count on to not make a big deal about her arrest in the entire city of Evergreen.

"How did you get the money to bail me out so quick anyway?" she asks.

He stares at her from the driver's seat "Huh?"

"I just mean, on a bus boy's salary. I'd've thought you'd be strapped for cash."

"Oh, I'm not. Strapped for cash, that is. But that's…uh, it's a secret."

"A 'secret.'"

"Yeah. A secret."

"Fine, sure, whatever," she sighs.

She supposes she shouldn't be surprised Adrian has a decent savings, considering he still lives with his mother (Harcourt had dropped him off at home after all, at some house with a pristine front yard and cutesy garden ornaments where an older woman appeared in the doorway to welcome Adrian inside with a beaming smile and friendly wave directed at Harcourt before she drove off) and thinks nothing more of it.

Adrian is quiet for the rest of the ride, only glancing at Harcourt occasionally while she pretends to not notice. She finds herself dozing against her window when the glass acts as a soothing cool balm for her aching head and is barely aware when the car comes to a stop outside of her building until Adrian jogs around the front of the car to help her out of her seat and support her upstairs. She has no idea how he knows where she lives but she's grateful for it, even when he absently informs her how scary easy it would be for someone to break into her place via the fire escape.

He somehow has her keys in hand and is unlocking her door, then the next thing she knows she's being gently settled down onto her bed where she stares at the dark ceiling and feels panic bubble to the surface again.

She should feel better—she thought she would after venting her pent up rage on some low life dirt bags in a shitty bar. But now that she's left with her thoughts she finds that she's still terrified; terrified of losing her job, her lively hood, the only thing she knows and was ever trained to do. She's terrified that even after the months of recovery and physical therapy she spent getting into the best shape of her life she's still unable to return to work. But more than any of that, she's terrified of being alone.

She blinks tears from her eyes and has the vague sensation of someone carefully wiping them as well as the dried blood away from her throbbing cheeks. The last thing she feels before she finally passes out is the light press of lips to her forehead, then blissful nothingness.

-_-

Harcourt wakes with the sun and groans when its beams shoot through her window to stab her directly through the temple, reigniting all the blows to the head she'd taken the night before.

She pushes herself gingerly up to sit and her comforter falls away from where it had been tucked under her chin. She's half undressed but doesn't remember moving after falling into bed boots and all. But now her shoes are gone as well as her pants, leaving her in her dark tank top and underwear. Her knuckles are thoroughly bandaged, as are the slashed cuts on her arms and face courtesy of ringed fists and broken beer bottles.

"Ugh," she groans as last night's escapades come flooding back to her. "Fuck me."

"No thank you!"

She startles, and it takes her a moment to remember that it was Adrian of all people who patched her up while she was unconscious. Who is still there to take care of her, apparently, when she recognizes his bespectacled grinning face at the foot of her bed.

"But I am glad to see you're awake and your normal grumpy self!"

He approaches her with a serving tray that she didn't even know she had. On top is a carefully arranged breakfast: there's a steaming mug of dark tea, a small plate of what looks like scrambled eggs, a glass of water, and two pain killers. She takes the pills with water first and foremost while Adrian stands over her, still with that unnerving smile on his face.

"You actually stayed here all night?" she asks him.

"Uh, yeah, duh, of course I did," Adrian says matter-of-factly. "I wasn't going to just leave you here to die from a potential concussion while you choked to death on your own vomit! That's not very good best friend behavior."

"I thought Smith was your best friend," she mutters. She pokes at the eggs and takes a cautious bite, pleasantly surprised that they are delicious and soothing to her sore, dry throat. She devours the contents of her plate in just a few large bites.

"If Peacemaker can have more than one best friend then so can I," he tells her while she eats and quickly downs the perfectly tempered and sweetened tea. "And when one of my best friends is in need of assistance you can bet I'll be there for them! Oh, which reminds me, I washed your pants and jacket 'cause they smelled like beer."

"Thanks," she mutters, realizing for the first time that she still reeks of beer. And sweat. And blood. "I need a fucking shower."

"You do! But I thought that would be weird to do for you while you were sleeping," Adrian explains while takes her empty plate and mug then hands her a carefully folded dark bundle. "So I found something comfy for you to wear when you woke up instead! You have a lot of black clothes by the way, you might want to think about expanding your palette a little."

"Sure, Adrian," she says as she pushes herself up off the bed and limps to her bathroom with Adrian hovering close the entire way. "I'll get right on that."

"Blue is always a nice color. You should probably wear more blue."

"Fine, man," she groans with a roll of her eyes. "I'll wear more fucking blue."

He beams, satisfied even as she slams the bathroom door in his face.

She hisses when she peels her sticky shirt off and sees the dark splotches that cover her torso. She has more than a few cracked ribs, she's sure, but nothing's broken as far as she can tell. Small victories, she tells herself as she steps under her shower's soothing hot spray.

She feels immensely better once she's clean and changed into the comfiest sweats she owns. She shuffles into her bedroom and is surprised to find that her bed has already been stripped and remade with fresh sheets. Not only that but her normally cluttered dresser top has been cleared and organized, and her shoes are neatly lined up out of the way under the foot of her bed.

Venturing out of her bedroom she finds that her living room and kitchen have also been meticulously cleaned and organized, and she thinks her apartment might be shinier than it's ever been.

"Oh, I forgot to mention I had groceries delivered before," Adrian says, appearing out of nowhere to gently wrap an ice filled towel around her busted knuckles. "You're fridge was disturbingly empty."

"Thanks." She's surprised that he's still hanging around, still taking care of her. "I'll, uh, I'll pay you back when I can."

Adrian finishes with the makeshift ice pack then holds up a hand and tuts. "Nope, no need! This is just one best friend helping another best friend, like best friends are supposed to do."

"Right. Thanks," she mutters again, more than a little surprised by the literal psycopath's generosity. She moves to the living room and plops down on her comfortable chair while he follows and settles onto the sofa across from her.

She knows that he knows that she's fine to be left on her own at this point. She's well rested, medicated, fed, and cleaned, but still he hovers, sitting perched on the edge of her couch's cushion with an expectant grin and no indication that he intends to leave her.

"Hey, you wanna quiz me on penguin facts?" he asks her out of nowhere. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised how much I know about penguins."

The corner of Harcourt's mouth turns up in a little smirk and she's not even bothered by the sting in her split lip and bruised cheek. "Sure, Adrian," she tells him genuinely. "I'd love to."

FIN.

Chapter Text

Adrian comes to slowly.

It's as if he has to wait for a heavy fog to lift away from his head before his weighted down eyelids could finally flutter open enough to see a brightness shining directly overhead. It feels like the light is driving needles directly into his brain, and even when he squeezes his eyes shut he can still see it through his closed lids. He groans and attempts to turn away from it only to discover that he can't move his head.

There's something pulled taught over his forehead, forcing him to face the light that makes his squinting eyes water. He tries to move his body but can't—similar padded tight straps are holding down his wrists and ankles, and more are crossing his bare shoulders, his hips, his thighs just above the knee. They're medical restraints, he realizes, and he's been strapped down to a flat table.

What the hell happened? Was he in the hospital, did he get hurt, were his friends okay? Was Peacemaker okay?!

"P-P…?" he croaks.

A body suddenly appears over him, blocking the light just enough for him to see the vague outline of a figure. Adrian blinks and even without his mask or glasses on he can tell that the man wearing a stark white lab coat isn't Peacemaker.

"Oh good," an unfamiliar voice says. "You're finally awake."

A hand brushes through Adrian's hair and he shivers.

"I was worried there for a little bit, thought I'd accidentally put you in a coma or something." The man—doctor?—chuckles to himself. "But it seems you're made of tougher stuff than I originally anticipated so I didn't want to risk getting the doseage too low. I'll have to remember to find a happy middle for the future."

Adrian's eyes roll in his head while he struggles to make sense of what's going on. All he knows is that he's been drugged, that he's woken up trapped, and he has no idea what happened to him or his friends. A vague memory comes to him—a mission in the woods with Peacemaker, then sneaking around by himself, then being suddenly tangled in some kind of netting while Economos' voice called for him in his ear, at which point he felt an electric shock run through his body, then nothing.

"Wha…wha's…" he tries to speak, but his tongue is uncomfortably numb in his dry mouth.

"There, there." The hand moves to pat at his cheek. "Just relax. You can't do much of anything else anyway, now can you?"

"…No?"

"That's right," the doctor praises. "Good show! But if it's any consolation I can at least tell you that your friend is safe. It's not the Peacemaker we were after. He's not like you, Vigilante."

Adrian makes a confused sound in his throat—it's all he can do.

"Yes, I believe you are very special," the doctor tells him with a smile. "It's not just anyone who can hop out of a hospital window after a critical gunshot injury. You metahumans think you can hide yourselves, but I will always know where to find you."

Adrian's heard that word before, but he has no idea what he has to do with people with super powers. "'M not—" he starts to say, and the doctor in the lab coat responds by jabbing a huge rubbery mouthpiece behind his teeth far enough that he won't be able to spit it out.

"Oh, just so you don't bite your tongue off," is the doctor's explanation for it. "That's been a problem in the past. Can't have you hurting yourself outside of the intended experiments."

Adrian chokes on the bit between his aching jaws and the doctor chuckles.

"Precisely, you leave the hurting to me," he's saying while he moves towards something just out of Adrian's line of vision. "This has always been my favorite part of the job, after all."

Adrian hears the clanking of metal and the familiar sharp scrape of a blade being sharpened.

"You're not my first meta freak, you know. In fact I recently had the pleasure of meeting another young man who could teleport, just like this—" the doctor snaps his fingers directly in Adrian's ear, making him flinch. "I let him go eventually, without his hands of course. Couldn't have him just snapping himself around whenever he felt like it, now could we?"

He finishes preparing whatever tools he has and leans over Adrian again.

"So, it's my understanding that you're a fast healer, correct?" The doctor doesn't wait for an answer, not that Adrian could give him one in the moment. "Why don't we start with something simple—let's see how long this takes to mend."

With that he takes the ring and pinkie fingers of Adrian's right hand and snaps them back to an unnatural angle.

Adrian jerks in his bonds but doesn't scream. He's still more shocked and confused than anything else, but when the doctor hums to himself as he consults the table of surgical tools Adrian feels a cold chill running through him that's unlike anything he's ever felt before.

He thinks it must be fear when the doctor returns to him with a shiny scalpel in hand and a sadistic grin on his distorted face.

-_-

Peacemaker doesn't know what the fuck is going on.

Some chick from A.R.G.U.S. had called him for an urgent mission to round up an escaped criminal and he was ecstatic to finally be recognized as the very competent hero he is. She said "bring your partner Vigilante," so he did, and even called Economos on the down low for some techy backup just in case. Economos seemed confused but played along as the familiar voice in their ears during Peacemaker's so called top secret special mission.

"…Yeah, I know there's been a few metahuman escapes lately," Economos had told them through their comms as the pair convened where the original A.R.G.U.S. agent had directed them. "But none of them were anywhere near Evergreen, so I don't know what they fuck they think you guys are going to do about it."

"They called us because we're fucking awesome, duh," Peacemaker had replied, then he and Vigilante shared an enthusiastic fist bump just before venturing into the forests of the Pacific Northwest.

"Sure, dude, whatever you say," Economos had humored him while typing away in the background from his no doubt cushy office chair half way across the country. "But I dunno, something doesn't feel very copacetic about all this shit…"

Peacemaker ignored him and the pair of heroes ventured out into the woods, but as the hours dragged and day approached dusk he started to get the strong feeling that he and Vigilante had been sent on some wild goose chase.

"What the fuck," he groans. "EconoGoat, is A.R.G.U.S. fucking with us here or what?! …Economos? John!"

"Dude," Economos comes back into the ear piece, sounding winded. "I think something happened is…is Vigilante still with you?"

"No, we split up like an hour ago, which you would know if you were paying any fucking attention! What good is having an ear guy if he can't even—"

"I can trace his comm," Economos interrupts. "Go find him. Now."

He directs Peacemaker to a clearing in the woods where he finds the ear piece on the ground, but no sign of Vigilante.

"What the fuck?" he mutters to himself, eyes scanning the trees. "Vij! Where are you, dude?!"

He startles when his phone rings unexpectedly in his utility belt. He assumes Vigilante lost his communicator again and is calling for help the only way he knows how, but when Peacemaker puts his phone to his face it isn't Vigilante hitting him up for a video call.

"Dude," Economos says in a frantic whisper over the screen where he's pressed himself against the wall of what appears to be an extremely narrow bathroom stall. "What the fuck happened?! I told you not to go out there!"

"What? No you didn't!"

"Copacetic! I said fucking copacetic!"

"When?!"

"It was like the first thing I said when you got me involved in this bullshit!"

"Ohhh, fuck, that's right," Peacemaker recalls with a grimace. "But c'mon man, like I'm supposed to remember these fucking secret spy words all the time!"

"It's one word," Economos hissed. "One fucking word!!!"

"So why'd you say it and then still fucking help me, dumbass?!"

"Because A.R.G.U.S. is listening to every single thing I do over here, even if it's not an officially sanctioned mission. Fuck, they might even be listening to me in the fucking bathroom right now!"

"Okay, sucks for you, but I don't have time for you to be all paranoid and shit. I still can't find Vigilante—"

"That's what I'm fucking trying to tell you," Economos interrupts. "I've been sneaking around in some A.R.G.U.S. files and there's no record of anyone contacting you for this mission, but a new report just came in, I shouldn't even have the clearance to see it, I'm sure no one wants me to see it—"

"Fucking spit it out, dude!" Chris says, rattling the phone as if that would do anything. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

Economos swallows hard, looking paler than Chris has ever seen him. "The report said that another team found the escaped metahuman and Vigilante's bodies. They're both dead."

To be continued at a later date…

Chapter Text

John Economos has just shuffled his way into the elevator at A.R.G.U.S. Headquarters in Metropolis and hit the close doors button when a hand suddenly juts through the crack right before they can shut. The doors slowly spread open again to reveal a stone faced woman wearing a purple skirt and gaudy pattered bright floral sweater. The sight of her leaves him dizzy while he presses himself as far into the corner of the small elevator as he can with his cumbersome crutches.

"John," she greets as she smoothly steps inside.

He swallows hard. "Um, h-hey Ms. Dubs—fuck, I mean, Ms. Waller. You…uh, you're looking especially nice and colorful today."

Amanda Waller—The Wall—side eyes him with her usual unimpressed dark gaze. "Shut the fuck up, John," she mutters as the elevator begins to ascend. "I'm not here to listen to you try to kiss ass. It's too late for that."

They manage to go three whole floors before she reaches out to hit the emergency stop button and John feels his heart skip a beat.

"Oh shit, oh god, oh fucking fuck," he's whispering under his breath when she finally turns to face him, her neck craned back to meet his line of sight when she stands barely as high as his chest.

"I want you to understand that I don't hold you specifically accountable for my recent setbacks, in Project Starfish or Butterfly or any of the bullshit that came after," she states, her expression as impassive as ever and her tone the least sincere John has ever heard it. She gives him a moment for her words to sink in then adds, "I know you're still the same spineless piece of shit you were when I first brought you in. You cried like a baby and pissed your pants if I recall correctly."

He feels himself flush. "Well, yeah, of course I pissed my fucking pants! I was just a kid and you've always been really scary."

Her mouth curls into a smile, like he's just given her a compliment. "At least you've had your usefulness over the decades."

In the moment John thinks of Flo, who might have been the first person to ever stand up to Waller when she bashed their boss over the head during Project Starfish. Then he thinks of Flo being cuffed and dragged away by Waller's agents, never to be seen or heard from again. There isn't even a record of her existence in or out of A.R.G.U.S. and he knows; he's checked many times.

He swallows hard. "A-are you…are you gonna kill me?"

Waller's bemused smirk grows but doesn't meet her soulless eyes—it never does. "You know I don't like to get my hands dirty, John," she drawls. "And I still have more than enough agents willing to take my trash out for me."

He tightens the grip on his crutch, though he's genuinely unsure what he intends to do with it. Her eyes slowly move to watch his hand before rolling back up to look at his face. She doesn't miss a thing, she never has.

"But you're worth nothing to me dead," Waller says, her tone as deadpan and impersonal as ever. "None of you are. Your team did manage to save the world from alien bugs, despite all of your incompetent bullshit."

"S-so what're you gonna do?"

"Me? Nothing. I'm being forced out as Director, remember? For now I'm just trying to tie up some loose ends while I still can. To make sure people remember their places even when I'm not in charge. And I thought you'd like to hear from me personally that you will always have a position at A.R.G.U.S., John."

"I will?"

"Oh yes, but only you," she clarifies. "Which reminds me, tell Leota that I mostly forgive her for her betrayal the next time you see her. We're not speaking at the moment."

"Um, yeah, sure, okay."

"I do think what you and your friends have done is noble, but foolhardy. I'll make certain the lot of you live to regret it one way or another, mark my words."

John doesn't know what to say to that, and it looks like Waller doesn't expect a coherent answer from him anyway. She reaches out to give his arm a cordial pat and he flinches violently away.

She starts the elevator again, apparently satisfied with the encounter and leaves with an intimidating, "I'll be seeing you around Belle Reeve, John."

Waller exits the elevator on some random floor and the doors close behind her while John thinks he might be having a mini heart attack. He catches his breath, clutching at his chest while he slumps against the elevator's cold walls.

"Fucking hell," he gasps. "Jesus fucking Christ…"

-_-

Afterwards—once he's recovered and taken slow, calming breaths in the safety of a bathroom stall that reeks of his own vomit—John shows up to his scheduled meeting fifteen minutes late. It's with Harry Stein, the director of another agency known as Checkmate who is clearly not thrilled to have been put in charge of A.R.G.U.S. following Waller's disgrace.

"We're giving you a promotion," the old man tells him unenthusiastically. "For your exemplary work in Project Butterfly and discretion during the ongoing Task Force X scandal over at Belle Reeve. Keep up the good work, Agent Economos. …Or don't, I don't fucking care anymore."

John is so shocked he can only mutter his thanks then dash out of the building where he finally catches his breath. He needs to get back to the airport, back to Louisiana where he will officially have the title of Warden of Belle Reeve, at least for the foreseeable future while A.R.G.U.S. gets their shit together. The promotion is nice, but it sits like a heavy stone of guilt in his gut.

Before he goes anywhere he sits in the privacy of his rental car and calls his oldest friend.

"Hey, John," Harcourt answers via FaceTime.

She looks exhausted though he's made a point to keep the time zone difference in mind so he doesn't call her too early or late, or during one of her scheduled PT appointments. Still, he can tell by her resigned expression that she already knows what's going on without him even telling her.

"So you're gonna be okay, right?" he blurts in lieu of his own hello. "Like, with everything going on with Ads and A.R.G.U.S. and Waller and…I mean, you know. Everything. It's just…" he trails off, swallowing hard. "Are we gonna be okay?"

He sees her roll her eyes even as a fond smile pulls at her lips, easing some of his discomfort. "Yes, of course we're okay. The situation really, really sucks, but I'm fine. I'll figure things out. At least one of us managed to keep their fucking jobs."

Her nonchalance doesn't make him feel any better in the moment. "Sure," he mutters.

"I really am glad it's you, John," she tells him genuinely. "And to be honest I've been overdue for an agency change anyway. I'm thinking of applying to the N.S.A. once I'm back on my feet again."

"New letters are always fun."

She snorts out a sardonic laugh. "Right? I've got the C.I.A., D.E.O., and A.R.G.U.S. already under my belt, figured I might as well put the whole fucking alphabet on my resume."

"But I'll miss you," he blurts. "Working with you, I mean."

Her expression softens. "I know. I'll miss working with you too. Just be careful at A.R.G.U.S. now," she warns him. "Whatever happens after Waller you know they're going to make your life a living hell."

"Yeah, no kidding," he sighs heavily, then startles when a new call notification flashes across his screen.

"What is it?" Harcourt asks.

"Oh, nothing," he sighs. "I'm just getting another call. From Adrian."

"Adrian? Vigilante, Adrian?"

"Yeah, he's called me like every day since I left Evergreen."

"I'm glad," she says, and he blinks at her in surprise.

"You are?"

"Sure. Adrian might be a fucking psycopath but he's a good friend."

"Yeah," John chuckles, "he really is."

"So I'll let you go, have fun learning bullshit animal facts."

"Oh my god, he does this to you now too?!"

She just laughs in response. "Bye, John."

She hangs up just in time for him to answer Adrian's call on the last ring.

"Hey, Adrian."

"Economooosss! What's going on, dude?!"

"Just the same old work bullshit."

"Oh man, me too," Adrian groans. "Dave got another promotion and he's being a real prick about it. Hey, what kind of bird makes this sound?" With that Adrian lets out a high pitched shriek that makes Economos pull his phone away from his ear.

"Jesus Christ, dude," he says when it's safe to talk again. "I have no idea, what kind of bird?"

"That's what I'm asking you!"

"What?"

"I heard a bird make a sound that sounded like that and I thought you might know what it was."

"Why the fuck would I…" He trails off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He does a quick search of random birds in the Pacific Northwest on his phone. "I'll bet it was a…red tailed hawk."

"Whoa, you really think so?!"

"Sure, why the fuck not."

"Cool! Have you seen any alligators yet?"

"Does Killer Croc count?"

Adrian's bark of laughter is almost as loud and obnoxious as his bird call was. "Not if it's a crocodile person, dude! There should be lots of alligators where you work."

"I'll let you know when I see one, I guess."

"Cool! And also OBVIOUSLY I'M ON THE FUCKING PHONE RIGHT NOW!!!"

John startles at his raised voice. "What?"

"Oh not you, Economos," Adrian clarifies. "Dave's being anti-breaks again, he's all—FINE! THEN I'LL REPORT YOU TO FUCKING OSHA FOR BEING A FUCKING DICKHEAD!!!"

"Not sure that's a thing," John mutters while the shouting match continues over the other line.

"OH YEAH?! WELL I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN TAYLOR'S HERE, AT LEAST YOUR TWIN DOESN'T TOTALLY FUCKING SUCK ALL THE TIME!!! Right, so, anyway, FUCK YOU TOO, DUDE I gotta go before I get ratted on for real, but I'll call you again later to check about those alligators. Bye!"

John hears an abrupt click followed by a dial tone and shakes his head in fond disbelief. His conversation with Harcourt followed by whatever the fuck that call with Adrian was has already done wonders for the lingering anxiety left by the unexpected encounter with Waller that nearly broke him.

He pulls away from A.R.G.U.S. headquarters and, for the first time in a long time, thinks things are going to work out okay.

FIN.

Chapter Text

"You fucking pussy," a familiar voice hisses in his ear. "Yeah that's right, I'm talking to you, you ugly fucking faggot! You're a worthless piece of shit, you know that?!"

Chris sighs heavily. "I know. Thanks for the reminder, dad."

"Think you're some kind of fucking hero, you're just a pathetic little bitch who can't do nothin' without me! Can't even make a goddamn living on your own without me!"

Chris tries to ignore the voice but Auggie's visage appears directly in front of his face, gaping bloody hole in his forehead and all.

"This is my fucking house you brother murdering waste of space," the ghost snarls. "And I'm gonna make damn sure you never fuckin' forget it!"

Chris covers his face in his hands and wills the man to go away. He's only been living full time in his dad's house for two days—two fucking days of constant yelling in his ear, of seeing the man's hateful scowl from every dark corner of every room.

Adrian and Ads had helped him clear out everything that reminded him of his old man and replace it with his own personal belongs, from the posters on the walls to the little toys and knickknacks he lined up on the shelves where his dad's framed White Dragon articles and paraphernalia used to be displayed with pride.

But none of that is enough to get rid of the spirit who haunts the place, who won't leave Chris alone no matter where he goes.

"Yeah, you wish I'd leave you the fuck alone," Auggie spits. "I told you, boy, I ain't going nowhere! You wanna get rid of me you already know exactly what you gotta do."

There's a flash of Auggie disappearing that draws Chris' attention to his shiny Desert Eagle where it sits innocently across the room. He doesn't even remember leaving it out on that particular table, but his dad knows it's there. Of course he does.

"Do it, motherfucker," Auggie snarls. "Fucking do it already! Nobody wants you here! You saved the planet from fucking pansy ass bugs and got nothin' to show for it! No reward, no parades, no crowds cheering your name. Fuck, you didn't even get a single thank you, alls you got is half your fucking friends out of jobs!"

Chris doesn't even realize he's moved until he's standing with the gun in his hands. It's a comforting, familiar slight weight, and it takes him no effort to bring the Desert Eagle's massive barrel to the side of his head.

"No one even takes you serious as a superhero," Auggie continues. "I 'spose Flag said it best in the end: 'Peacemaker, what a joke.'"

Chris squeezes his eyes shut and feels a tear streak down his cheek. It would be so easy, he thinks, to silence the noise forever, to leave a world where no one cares about him anyway.

"That's right, Christopher," Auggie says, his voice low and dangerous. "Put us all out of our fucking misery."

His finger trembles against the trigger as he sucks in one last breath then—

"Heyyy Puh-Puh-Puh-Peaceamaaakerrr!!!"

Chris startles so badly that he drops the gun to the ground and shoots himself in the foot. He's staring at the bloody streak going across the top of his sock when Adrian suddenly comes running around the corner, jaw dropped and eyes wide with horror. He screams, which makes Chris scream, which makes Adrian continue to scream at an even more hysterical shrill pitch.

"Dude," Chris shouts over him. "What the fuck?!"

Adrian abruptly stops screaming and snaps his jaw shut while he stares at Chris in disbelief. "Me what the fuck?" he yells back. "No, you what the fuck! What just happened?!"

Chris gestures wildly to the obvious smoking gun on the floor next to him and the fresh hole in the wall's baseboard. "I dropped it, duh!"

"You…dropped it?"

"Yeah dude, I dropped it on my fucking foot and the shit just went off! What the fuck does it look like happened?! Fuck!!!"

"Don't yell at me," Adrian shouts. "I'm not the one who forgot how to hold a fucking gun!" He frowns, his eyes narrowing and voice lowering with suspicion. "What the heck were you doing with the gun when you dropped it on your foot?"

Chris swallows hard. "Nothing dude," he lies. "I was just…just moving shit around. Are you gonna help me out here or not?!"

Adrian blinks out of his stupor and rushes to Chris' side. "Oh yeah, of course! Man, it sure was auspicious of me to randomly show up here when I did!"

"Yeah," Chris mutters, unable to meet Adrian's eye when he helps him to sit in the dining room. "It really was."

"Let's see what we got," Adrian says while he kneels in front of Chris and gently eases the sock away from his bleeding foot. Adrian grimaces in sympathy. "Damn, P. Luckily it looks like it's just a graze, a pretty fucking gnarly one though." He dashes away for only a second and returns with a hefty first aid kit in tow. "It's nothing I can't fix!"

Comfortable silence ensues while Adrian works on carefully cleaning, stitching, and bandaging Chris' foot. Chris' eyes wander around the house but there's no sign of his dad's ghost anywhere, not even the whisper of his voice in Chris' ear. He thinks that having Adrian hanging around and being his usually loud, obnoxious self will do wonders to help cleanse the place of whatever curse Auggie left in it.

Chris clears his throat. "Hey, maybe you should stay over for awhile," he says as nonchalantly as possible. "Like, stay for the night and stuff."

Adrian beams starry eyed up at him. "Like a real life sleepover party?!"

"Sure dude," Chris chortles."Like a fucking sleepover party. And maybe you should stay for a few nights, just so I don't, you know, bleed out from my foot wound or whatever."

"Of course, P! You don't even have to ask, I'll always take care of you, you know that."

"Yeah. Thanks, Vij. Adrian."

Adrian finishes tending to the injury then plants a soft kiss on the top of Chris' bandaged foot. "There," he says, satisfied as he grins up at Chris from where he's still kneeling between his legs, eyes wide and adoring behind his glasses. "All better!"

The sting in Chris' foot immediately disappears as he feels his blood run to another part of his body. "You know, I actually think there might be a way you could help me feel even better."

Adrian's face scrunches in adorable confusion when he cocks his head against Chris' thigh. "How?"

Chris flushes. "Never mind, I was just—" he starts, but is cut off by Adrian's sudden loud guffaw.

"HA! Kidding, dude! Of course I know how," Adrian chuckles, his hands already moving to Chris' waistband while he licks his lips. "Time to say hello to my favorite Mr. Chimp Arm…oh, and it looks like he is happy to see me!!!"

Chris smiles, positive that once the specter of Auggie Smith sees them together—in his kitchen, in his living room, in his bedroom, in his very own bed—it'll be more than enough to exorcise the hateful ghost away from the Smith home once and for all.

FIN.