Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He hadn’t known about it for the longest time. He’d felt the effects (couldn’t not feel them, actually), but hadn’t pieced them together or bothered to think of what it looked like to others. 

Apparently, when it came to communicating deeply with nanites, Rex’s eyes glowed. 

He first found out from an offhand comment by Bobo.

“Big talk from a fancy light show,” he’d said. They’d been arguing about who would be stealthier on a certain mission, one of their dumb hypotheticals to kill time in between high-stakes situations and their next breakout whenever Providence’s tedium became too much.“I might enjoy attention— just like you, I’ll add— but Providence should loan you out to airports: you could guide planes in with what you have goin’ on.” 

Rex, reclining on his bunk bed, absently glanced down to his jacket. “Geez, I know it’s orange, Bobo, but it’s not that loud a color. I’d be crouching in the dark anyway. Who’s gonna see?”

Bobo shot him a condescending look from over his magazine. “That ain’t exactly what I was referring to, chief.” The ape maintained his stare expectantly, as if waiting for his roommate to catch on.

Rex did not. He huffed. “Okay, well, what did you mean then?” 

A pause. Two blinks. Then Bobo finally lowered his booklet. “What, you mean you haven’t noticed yet?”

“Noticed? Noticed what?” In a rush, Rex sat up and turned to face the chimp fully. Always hopeful for excitement, he asked,” Is it something cool?” 

Bobo scratched his cheek. “Ah, you could say that. Not really somethin’ I’d write home about in my Christmas letters, but…”

Rex leaned forward with a grin. “But…?”

“You glow,” the chimp stated flatly. 

“… Like, some of my builds?” 

“Uh-uh. I’m not just talking about your fancy new weapons, kid. I mean your eyes.” He tapped just above his own for emphasis. “Kinda freaks me out, if I’m honest.”  

“… Que-what?” Rex forced a chuckle. “Um, Bobo, I think I’d remember if I regularly turned into a glow stick.”

“Apparently not,” the ape muttered. Abruptly, he grabbed his discarded magazine and stood up, making for the door. “Look, I don’t exactly have all the answers you might be lookin’ for. Maybe go check it out with Doc Holiday. I’m sure she’s noticed, at least.” 

With that, Rex stared after him as he left, interest piqued. The teenager was always excited to learn more about himself— in no small part because there was far too little to know— and that desire certainly extended from details about his past, to his powers, and to what other people thought of him. 

Besides, it seemed like it would at least kill some time before the next training session. 

———

“— and you didn’t think to tell me?” Rex exclaimed later, sitting on the usual examination table in the main lab. He swung his feet back and forth, thinking the whole thing was totally unfair. 

Holiday barely looked up from her computer. “In my defense, I was a lot more concerned with your overall health and nanite levels, Rex. From the way Six described it, the sight really put both of us on edge. Though I didn’t want to alarm you for no reason either. I ran some tests when you came back from his, um, mentor’s island.” Finally her expression turned apologetic, and she looked up at him. “You’re right though, I should have thought to mention it. Mostly I just didn’t want to scare you before I had answers.” 

“Wait… Six knows too?!”

Holiday chuckled. “It’s only ever happened during a fight. Who do you think would first tell me about it?”

Rex looked down, brow furrowing, and played with the fabric of his gloves. “Wait. So… what exactly does it look like then? And when does it happen? I mean, I know it’s not every time I use my powers.”

“That would be correct.” Holiday moved to another console and pulled up a startlingly high-definition image on the screen. “Here. This was taken a few weeks ago, the last time it happened. Six was smart enough to bring a good camera.”

The teenager hopped off the table and moved closer, suddenly feeling as if he was being briefed on some wild and mysterious EVO rather than himself.  

On screen it was indeed his own face staring back, although the features were twisted so alien and blank that Rex hardly wanted to believe they were the same person. His eyes were lit up with a brilliant artificial blue, angular lines spreading over his face like the techno-equivalent of tear-tracks. Underneath the light Rex’s cheeks were flushed red and sweaty, like he’d turned into a zombie from too much heatstroke. 

And suddenly, with perfect clarity, Rex pieced it together. 

He frowned, feeling like it sat uncomfortably on his lips.“Actually, I think I already know when this happens. Or at least what it feels like.” 

Doctor Holiday looked at him with concern, detecting the way his excitement had turned somber. When he didn’t elaborate, her eyes drifted back to the computer.

Absurdly, Rex had the urge to wave his hands in front of the screen. He didn’t know why a part of him didn’t want her to look. During their time together Doctor Holiday had seen him in all sorts of unflattering positions— more than he cared to remember, honestly— but somehow this was different from getting injured fighting an EVO, or even embarrassing teenager-y situations which managed to verge on normal.

Because right now Rex saw a picture of himself. Him, two weeks ago, with his hands laid flat on a certain EVO with big, black-feathered wings and a missing head. An EVO which hadn’t been entirely unusual, except for how, when it’d gotten close, Rex had heard its nanites. Heard them crying out, and had been overwhelmed with pain.

It was pretty difficult to articulate even in Rex’s own head, because pain was too little a word for it. It was worse than just about anything he could remember feeling. Worse than when his builds were ripped off or mangled, still attached. Worse than getting smacked through a solid wall and having to walk it off during a fight. Worse than taking on way too many active nanites and turning into what could charitably be termed a writhing metal tumor. The only thing that came close was possibly Van Kleiss’s freaky metal hand.

The experience of talking to nanites, especially when Rex got that deep into it, was like suddenly being himself and yet not himself; human and yet machine; a linear, solitary experience and yet a bajillion different microscopic viewpoints all at once. Everything turned hot like an overheating computer. His vision went white, his senses faded, like everything was too much and too big for the processing power in his body. So for an instant he was more than his body. He was every nanite inside and around him, an interpreter for the voices within. Each nanite had its own input and output, but when understood collectively— when one had the ability to decipher the unifying objective behind each mutation— it was possible to translate it all into words. It was possible to send a message back. It was possible for others to use those nanites to speak through him. 

Not that Rex really had much control over the words, during these moments. Mostly he was running on instinct, trying not to collapse. The boy never mentioned it or complained, mainly because this stuff always happened in the middle of a crisis, but also because Rex preferred not to acknowledge the things that made him… weak.

“Rex,” Holiday began. She turned to him fully, probably because he’d gone silent. “Are you—“

Cutting her off, a blaring alarm coursed through the building. White Knight’s face appeared on the main monitor. 

“We have a situation,” he informed them evenly, lacking even a hint of contrition. “Both of you, get down to the briefing room immediately.” With those words spoken, his image disappeared. 

Perhaps faster than he’d ever listened to one of White Knight’s orders, Rex was already slipping on his discarded jacket, halfway out the door. 

Holiday had to grab her tablet before stalking after him. “Rex, wait. I think we need to—“

“No time, Doc.” Rex spun around to walk backward for a moment, flashing her a surface grin and two thumbs up. “Duty calls! We’ll, uh, catch up later, I guess.” 

He spun forward, running ahead without acknowledgement for how Holiday yelled after him.

——

In accordance with Rex’s luck regarding most things in life, the mission went sideways almost immediately.

“No plan survives an encounter with the enemy,” Six recited, reading Rex’s mind. In the next instant he smoothly dove under a flying projectile, feet skidding through murky water, green dress pants soaked to mid-thigh. 

Rex, wrestling up close with the barbed tongue of an EVO clam-creature, said,” Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, Six, but that— ah! Isn’t actually all that help— ugh — full!” The rest of his words turned unintelligible, drowned out by the clam spitting mucus in his face. 

Fighting down the urgent desire to hurl, Rex used the clam’s own weight to spin it into a wall, tying it in a knot with its own tongue. His left fist kept it pinned against a wall, his other hand disassembled to wipe at his mouth. 

“Ewewew!” The teenager belatedly rushed out, shaking his head.

“Funny!” yelled Bobo from across the room. “I’d a thought you’d be used to that by now. Been thinking I should start packing you a bib for tripe like these.” From the other side of the watery chamber— one of many beneath the city they were currently trying to save— Bobo continued to open fire at a number of small creatures. 

The clam EVO had been spitting them out nonstop, to the point that the tiny faceless minions had invaded the once-peaceful metropolis above. They were white and round the way pearls were, but decidedly bigger, slimier, and all-around more likely to turn people into statues of calcium carbonate. They would be kinda cute, Rex thought, if they weren’t totally disgusting and dangerous. Already, most of Raleigh, North Carolina had been swarmed by the little guys. 

“Rex?” Holiday’s voice cut in over the communicator line. The young EVO detected the barest hint of hesitance— a slip he probably only caught because he knew her so well— before the doctor pushed forward. “I’ve got some bad news. You know that sample you sent me? Unfortunately, it provided a few grim answers. We still have time to save most of those trapped by the EVO’s calcium bombs, but time is running short. If you can’t cure that clam in the next twenty minutes… we’re going to be looking at some serious casualties, Rex.” 

Oh, joy. He huffed out his nose, tone forcefully casual. “No problemo, Doc. I’ve got it all covered.” Rex hung up on his end of the call, then muttered,“Right. Fantastic. Because this was just too boring without a time limit thrown in, too. Awesome.” 

Behind, the sounds of Six and Bobo fighting ricocheted across the surrounding stone walls. A few Providence agents were holding their own with blasters and nets, only a handful left of the larger group that had originally ventured down here with them. The whole operation was extra difficult because of the clam’s chosen home; a system of old, cramped tunnels which gave way to damp chambers, river water gently flowing through most of it. 

Suddenly, a Providence agent let out a scream, panicked movements carried in splashing water, before the noise was cut painfully short. 

Heart pumping in his ears, Rex swallowed. Then, willing determination to take over, the boy focused his sights back on the EVO.

“Alright, buddy, show’s over. I’m turning you into chowder ASAP,” he boasted. One giant arm still keeping it pinned, his other normal hand brought to its rough surface, Rex closed his eyes. He focused, the outside world going distant as he sent out a deactivation and absorption command. The nanites were moving… responding…

Rejected.

Rex opened his eyes. “No. No!” The young EVO couldn’t contain the tremor in his voice. He tried again, daring to hope this was an obstacle that could be overpowered.

It wasn’t. Another rejection: the resistance of an incurable, their nanites refusing to sway from their current task of maintaining the mutation. 

In his dejection, Rex’s grip on the EVO faltered. It was just a fraction. Just enough for the tongue to pull itself loose, lashing him across the midsection and taking its own turn to pin him against the opposite wall. Rex felt something warm drip from where the tongue’s barbs were scraping against his front. He gasped, breath knocked out from the impact, back and shoulders aching fiercely against solid stone.   

“Rex!” Six’s voice— even and gruff, commanding, but edged with concern— highlighted the moment. It was just a single word, just a syllable, just his name, but within it Rex could hear more. They were the words, “ Are you okay?” and “Can you do this?” Even more compelling, “I’m sorry that we need you.” 

Fortunately, Rex always worked better for other people’s sakes than his own. 

“Rex?” Holiday was speaking into his ear again. A pause, just three seconds longer than normal. “We have five minutes.” 

Grunting, trying to grin through a grimace, Rex took a hard grip of the tongue. “Heh. You know me, Doc. Always— ugh — cutting it close.” He took a deep breath. “Actually, I think you just gave me a good idea; hopefully Six remembered to bring the good camera again.”

“Rex, are yo—“

The rest of her words— and anything else going on— faded away. There were the nanites, felt and experienced deeper than before. Instead of entering commands similar to the way one would use a computer, Rex became the nanites. His thoughts turned sideways, his objective of ‘achieve dormancy/hibernation/standby’ the only vestige of humanity. This was not a cure. This was a request framed to fall in line with what the nanites were already prioritizing. In the background, everything turned white hot. 

Accessing… processing… confirming… initiating. 

The shock of success wrenched Rex back into himself. The EVO’s tongue started going slack, sleepy, and the young boy found himself unresisting when its weight dragged him to the ground. Immediately, the water drenched his clothes and body up to his chest. The sting of his wounds was a backdrop to the pounding in Rex’s head, the burning in his eyes. He tried to stay alert, forcing himself to assess what was going on now, still caught off guard when a familiar hand touched his shoulder. His flinch was delayed, sensation and reaction and present-mindedness not entirely caught up.

The figure to Rex’s left (very green, he noticed) was blurry but identifiable. 

“Six?”

“And don’t forget me,” spoke Bobo to the right, a blur of brown and faded yellow. 

“As if you’d let me,” he snarked back automatically.  

Then, not exactly energized but also having enough experience to keep moving, Rex shakily rose to his feet. Six’s hand pressed onto his shoulder, almost like the man wanted to keep him sitting, before quickly grabbing the boy’s hand to pull him up the whole way. The EVO tongue rolled off of him, withdrawing into the clam which had suddenly turned peaceful. Things still looked fairly blurry, but the teenager assumed that the pearl-minions were rapidly melting into puddles of harmless ooze, just as he had told them. 

“Holiday will get you patched up,” said Six eventually.

“That isn’t code for more shots, I hope.” 

“Mm. Maybe next time.” 

Blinking his eyes rapidly, allowing himself to half lean against the wall, Rex was pleased to note the steady return of his vision. 

He turned to Bobo. “Hey. How was that for a fancy light show? Bet it’s not such a drawback when I’m saving your bacon.” Woozily, he proudly added, “I even think I’m getting used to the way it hurts.”

The words were said teasingly, another of their typical jokes, but for some reason Bobo looked away. “Uh, sure thing, kid. You really did us proud.”

Six’s hand found its way to Rex’s shoulder again. “Yes. All the more reason to get some rest. Although, later on, I believe Holiday will want to hear more about this ‘hurting’ you mentioned. Does this happen often?”

Rex looked down. Again, there was the urge to hide, to cover his face or perform some other useless feat. The older man’s gaze was piercing despite his sunglasses. Even Bobo, looking uncharacteristically intent, seemed to be passively demanding answers.

A shrug. “Probably. Kinda hard to tell, given I didn’t even know my eyes could glow until this morning.”  That last part was uttered somewhat accusingly.

Six had the grace to appear ruffled in his own un-ruffable way. He cleared his throat, adjusting his already-perfect tie. “It’s best to gather intel and devise a plan of action before rushing in. Better damage control that way.”

“Yeah, when it’s a mission. No offense, but I’d like to think learning about my own body doesn’t have to come with the same risk factors.” 

“You… may have a point.” A pause. “C’mon. I’ll allow you to pick out a dessert while Holiday checks you over. My treat.” 

“Oh, now you’re talkin,’” uttered Bobo. “You did mean to include me, right? ‘Cause I’ve got a real particular set of items I wanna eat tonight.”

Energy restored— emotionally, if not entirely physically— Rex bounced forward. “You mean we can order anything we want?”

“Within reason,” Six clarified, leading the two back towards the entrance they’d come from, skirting around the Providence agents now filtering in for clean-up and containment. 

“A birthday cake!”

“A slice of cake.”

Rex let out a low whine, craving the excess more than the actual sweet, but figured it wasn’t such a bad deal. Rubbing his eyes, still faintly burning and sore, the young man even dared to hope that Holiday would find something to make his glowy side effects easier to bear. 

Chapter Text

“They’re running out of time.”

Those were the words spoken directly into Rex’s earpiece, an ominous update courtesy of White Knight. 

If that was the man’s idea of a pep talk, the boy thought, then unfortunately it was working. Rex crawled faster, shuffling as best he could through the cramped, one-way tube cutting through one of Providence’s bases. A base which, currently, was under siege from within.

Besides a flashlight band strapped to his sweaty forehead, the tube was pitch black. Unhappily, that was only one of the teen’s current problems. The heavy weight in Rex’s gut— already sizable and aching beforehand— grew heavier at White’s words. There might as well have been a physical tendril of anxiety wriggling up his throat, choking him from the inside. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, though whether that was the hot, stale air or his loved ones’ impending deaths was hard to say. 

“Has the swarm—“ huff “—breached the second set of doors?” Rex managed to ask, panting. The teen’s sweat-soaked clothing stuck uncomfortably to his skin.

“As a matter of fact, they’re well on their way to breaching the third set.” 

Rex let out a curse under his breath. Bobo would’ve approved.

“Maintain your current speed,” advised White. “Your exit point is approaching up ahead. I’ll open it when you get there. I did my best to clear out the immediate area, but most of this base’s weaponry has already gone offline. Watch yourself. And more importantly, don’t ruin anything.” 

“Yeah, just relax, Knight. I’m a—“ huff “— paragon of— “huff “—professionalism. Don’t you know that by now? It’s because I’m so… I’m so…so…” Frustrated and fed up, Rex didn’t bother to finish. “¡Dios mío!” he wailed, headbutting the floor. “¿Por qué hace tanto calor?”

“Because the tube you’re in travels directly above quite a lot of machinery,” answered White, almost sounding amused. “Machinery that runs hot , as it so happens.” 

Rex allowed himself the luxury of a groan, nice and tired and drawn out. If Six were here he would’ve made some frank observation, reminding him to get a move-on. Bobo would’ve groaned with him, or quipped to lighten the mood. Doc Holiday would’ve been focused but supportive, emphasizing the objective. 

Rex dwelled on that. He thought of what they would want him to do, just barely long enough to start moving forward again. 

Finally, after some additional wiggling, Rex was only a few feet shy of the exit point. It was a circular hatch about the circumference of the tube itself, with a tiny glass slit impossible to see through because it had been covered in… something. Something slimy and gross. 

“The moment I tell the computer to unseal this,” explained White then, “you’ll need to move quickly. I mean it. We don’t need any EVOs getting in there and compromising another section of that base.” 

“Yeah, because I really want to take my time getting out of here. Actually, I’ll invite the whole gang. ‘Hey, Noah! Grab your friends! Come hang out in Providence’s ventilation system with me. Or whatever this thing is…”

Rather than dignify that with a response, the latch merely flipped open. 

The cool cleanness of Providence’s filtered air was a shock, but not enough to make him hesitate. Rex wiggled forward, noted the seemingly empty room with its flickered lighting, and then gracelessly tumbled onto the floor. Beneath his flushed skin the chilled white tile felt heavenly. 

He couldn’t indulge for long though. Rex quickly rose to his feet, a hand on his ear piece more out of habit than because it required a button-press. “Okay, what exactly am I supposed to do here again?” he asked.

The young EVO began to drift through the lab cautiously. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of rotting organic material, at the clumps of dull green fluid splattered across the room. The lab was high-tech and spacious, at least three times the size of the one Holiday typically worked in, though now its glamor was undercut by scorched blaster marks on the walls, and the test tubes and other sciency-stuff thrown out of place carelessly. Every step was accompanied by the crunch of broken glass. Every sight punctuated by busted lights shimmering above. Besides the passive hum of waiting machinery, the whole place was silent. 

In general, it looked like someone had gone three rounds with a hurricane. Or, Rex supposed, in this case a variated termite colony.

“Head over to the giant fridge in the center,” interrupted White. “Check if it’s still functional.”

Rex did so. “Yeah, it’s on. And there’s a bunch of slimy green ooze in here too.”

“What you’re looking at there is a large collection of synthesized pheromones based off of what our current EVO enemy uses to communicate. I assume you recall the incident in China, where Dr. Holiday used that other swarm’s biology against itself? These EVO bugs are different from that one, but the same principle applies. When one of those suckers finds a particularly appetizing meal, they release natural chemicals in order to signal their comrades.”

“So I can just do the same thing as last time?” Rex asked hopefully. Rarely were his missions ever this straightforward and easy. 

A sigh. “Unfortunately, no. Because these insects are different, they aren’t quite so mindless when it comes to identifying food. We haven’t precisely cracked why yet, but the important point is that spraying them with their own compound won’t work.”

Picking up steam, the older man said, “Look, I didn’t order you into ground zero so we could debate tactics. You need to keep those pests from accessing that base’s core generator. One wrong bite and we’ll be saying ‘sayonara’ to a third of the country.”

“So… average stakes then?” 

“Fortunately,” White continued, “this EVO swarm doesn’t have the same capabilities or diet as the one you fought in China. They don’t seem capable of eating through the entire structure of that base, and so they’ve taken to crawling through every nook and cranny they can manage. Or just by flooding every hallway and floor.” 

Rex peered around at the lab again, taking in the rows of cages and containment units, many of them chewed open. “Right. And since we’re on the subject, please tell me we at least got something out of whatever freaky experiments were going on here.” 

Ignoring him, White added, “As we speak, Dr. Holiday is coming up with another tailor-designed cocktail to get these things under control. Your job is to attract the swarm to where you are, and buy time for Six.”

“Um, Bobo is there too, you know,” pointed out the teen. “Plus the other agents. And, like, everyone in this building.”

“Before you lay the bait,” he continued, “you’ll need to prepare defenses for yourself as well. The leftover cameras in that lab give me a good view of what you’re working with. Follow my instructions exactly , and I’ll walk you through this.” 

If they weren’t short on time Rex would’ve snarked something back— purely because White Knite needed a good ego-check now and then— but as it was the teen focused on doing his job. He accessed the main computer terminal to check if the necessary functions still worked, then moved to quickly sweep aside wreckage for the space White said he needed. It was mostly random stuff, like overturned desks, and bulky machines, and—

“Wha…? Oh! Oh my—“

“What? What are you seeing?”

“I’m— that… is that a…?” 

With a start, Rex had jumped away from the telling red puddle on the floor, a limp foot just barely visible from where it was sticking out behind a bench. Rex slapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly nauseous. 

“Ah. That,” said White. “Yes, well. That was Dr. Fredrickson. Given the quality of her work, I suppose that makes her death an especially unfortunate casualty, but… it’s best not to dwell on that right now.”

White’s words took an extra instant to register, as if traveling to him through a dense fog, only to ignite a surge of fiery anger. Anger at White, for being such a callous, disregarding jerk. Anger at himself, for not getting here fast enough. Even anger at Dr. Fredrickson and the other mad scientists who hopefully had at least done all of this for a cure.

Anger, thankfully, was easier to deal with than a few other emotions.

Rex wrenched his gaze away from the blood. It was a dark truth that he’d encountered death before, though usually it wasn’t up close, or sometimes even fully human; someone crushed under rubble there, an EVO with its hands on a “snack” there, a variated organism put down by Providence before he could reach it.

Don’t think about it, Rex thought. Don’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon—

“How much longer do I have?” Rex forced himself to ask.

“… About ten minutes till those things break through the final barrier. Maybe less, if they’ve run out of security measures down there. If I were you, I’d work quickly.” 

“Yep. That’s me. ‘Speed’ is my middle name,” he chuckled, knowing even as he said it that the words sounded forced. In a rush, he moved away to the other wall and pressed a big red button. 

Immediately, a clear reinforced box built itself from the walls and floor, impenetrable and about half the size of the lab, apparently made of some specially adaptive compound, almost like plastic. It was a type of last ditch containment, or even temporary housing for the swarm. Rex pressed his hands to the wall, connecting to the main computer across the room, and ordered the box to stretch and reform. They were lucky the lab was so big in the first place. Extending the container until it took up almost the entire space— leaving only a small strip of room for Rex himself, which by necessity was a dead-end and could not include the door— there was a decent chance they would be able to contain at least enough bugs to help those guarding the core. 

“Looks like the door works,” commented Rex.

“Yes, I can see that. Now we just need some bait and an extra dousing of those pheromones. There should be food for them in that unit besides the fridge. Some type of metallic substance they tend to enjoy. Dump as much food as you can carry into that cell, spray it with the pheromones, and then prepare to hunker down. With any luck the chemicals will be strong enough to send them running.”

Rex opened the unit, prepared to do as he said, except—

“Uh, Knight?” Stomach bottoming out, he said, “There’s nothing in here.” 

“… Check the one next to it. Now .”

So he did. And the next one. And a few other locations for good measure.

Rex overheard a series of faintly uttered curse words, as if White had just leaned back from his microphone to swear. 

“Okay,” said the older man, rallying quickly. “We need that bait. I can check the computer to see if there’s more stored elsewhere… though there’s no guarantee those pests haven’t gotten to it by now…” 

White rattled off a few more potential solutions, more to himself than to anyone else, but Rex found himself staring at his hands. He thought of Six and Bobo and the other Providence agents stuck below, thought of all the people who would die if this base exploded, thought of Holiday losing more loved ones to the so-called war against EVOs. 

The next words out of Rex’s mouth were said absently, not quite sure himself of what the true point was. “You said these things eat only a certain type of metal, right?”

“Yes. Obviously. You know, Rex, it would really be fantastic if you could take this seriously and— I don’t know— pay attention!” 

“But… earlier, those things ate my machines. They seemed to like my metal just fine, actually.” 

Tense silence. White Knight didn’t say anything over the line at first. Rex wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted him to say, and couldn’t pinpoint why a little ball of dread was now joining the already-present weight in his gut.

“It should go without saying,” White began eventually, “but there are a lot of people relying on you, Rex. Maybe more than you realize.”

The boy straightened.

“Civilians, loyal Providence Agents, your own loved ones…In a way, even I’m relying on you right now. Our fate is in your hands.” 

Rex gave a suspicious look to one of the cameras mounted on the wall. “What are you getting at, Knight?”

“We don’t have time for you to search the entire base for something they’ll eat, let alone the time to find a large enough quantity. On the other hand, you’re right there, the pheromones are there…”

The weight in Rex’s gut grew heavier again. The little ball of dread grew. Funny how White’s words had a way of doing that. 

“You need to use your machines to lure them in. Now.” 

“Y-you want me to feed them— m-me?!” Rec couldn’t help but shriek that last word.

“I’m not saying let them eat you in the traditional sense. You are valuable as a cure, after all. Just dissemble your parts and then move them into a pile.”

Which, okay, that wouldn’t be too dangerous at least. And Rex couldn’t feel his builds once they fell off of him anyway, so that would be fine, right? But still…

“It’s just kinda freaky to think about,” Rex explained, nonetheless complying. 

He pressed the wall again and used his powers, opening the clear box so he could step inside it. Rex held out his arms. Smack Hands, he decided, because they were his favorite and the easiest to build. 

In an instant they manifested. Rex flexed his fingers with a creak of joints. Though his limbs weren’t nearly as delicate as real hands, the sensation of feeling and connection was as vivid as ever. He knew intimately how each piece slid together, the components and measurements and the little touches that felt so personally like himself. They were him, really.

With more difficulty, Rex then tried to disassemble his Smack Hands instead of reabsorbing them like usual. Or maybe not with ‘more difficulty’ exactly, but with more of a delay. It was definitely a weird feeling, mostly because Rex wasn’t in the habit of leaving parts behind in the field. According to Doc Holiday and Six, that sort of thing  was a waste of nanites and energy, and plus it just felt kinda unnatural if not outright harmful. Like spitting out perfectly good food after chewing for a bit, or keeping your eyes closed the whole day. A distinct sense of lack. 

Nonetheless, a few seconds of concentration later and the pieces tumbled to the ground. Clank, clomp, slam. The noises echoed harshly. For good measure Rex did it about ten more times, until the clear box had a hefty buffet sitting right in the center. 

The next part was where it would be tricky. 

Rex took out a whole case of the pheromones stuck in glass test tubes, balanced the case on the blade of his giant sword, and then carefully held both just over the pile of, well, himself. He pressed his other hand to the wall, connecting once more to the computer.

“You have five minutes,” White interjected sternly. “I’ll give you the cue when to seal them in.” 

Rex stuck his tongue out at one of the cameras. He knew that the second he dumped those pheromones a whole army of critters would crawl through the door on the other side. He had to get this right. He needed to dump the pheromones, seal himself away safely, and then seal them inside once there were enough. After all, he wouldn’t be any use to the others if he screwed up here.

Crash!

With a twist of his blades, the pheromones dumped onto the metal parts in the same instant that Rex retracted his hand. Another second, and the box sealed itself on his side. Then he waited.

A rumbling began to form. First quietly, then mounting with a fervor. 

Though he’d been expecting it, Rex nearly fell back when one of the bugs entered. The thing was undoubtedly freaky looking, but smaller and more red than the EVO swarm in China. It crawled forward, almost suspicious, before finally, finally taking a bite out of the pile.

Rex nearly winced at the sight, but was far more preoccupied when more of the bugs suddenly flooded in, scurrying along the floor of the box, the ceiling, the walls. A dozen… two dozen… thirty… fifty… sixty… The young EVO bounced on the balls of his feet. He felt sweat form on his brow under the flashlight band. Any moment now. Any moment when White would give the signal and let him close the doors. Any moment…

“Hey! Yo, Earth to White! Anybody in there? What are you waiting for? They’re right where they’re supposed to be!”

“And they’ve also hardly filled that container. The agents below need our assistance, Rex. That base is overrun. They need a bigger dent in numbers than what we have there. And look, not just that, they’re actually leaving .” 

With a sinking sensation, Rex noticed he was right. For every bug that crawled in to investigate the food source, three more crawled out. And looking closer in the center of the box…

“They already ran out of food?” Rex wailed, disbelieving. Not knowing what else to do, he touched the wall and sealed the bugs inside 

“Rex.” White spoke severely over the line. “Reopen that. Now. You need to keep them there. And you need to attract more of them.” 

“Yeah? Well, I’m here listening for any bright ideas, Boss .” 

“Here’s a simple one, then. Give them food. If they realize there’s abundance where you are, more of them will follow.” 

“That’s…” Rex swallowed around his parched throat. He couldn’t really argue with the logic. And besides, what were a few metal limbs compared to actual human lives?

Another set of Smack Hands formed before he’d even finished the thought. He concentrated, eyes closed, and soon the pieces fell away. Rex used his powers so the box would open itself to more bugs.

Scooping up as many parts of himself as he could, the teen pressed the metal against the clear box’s wall. The nice thing about this invention, Rex thought, was that it could be programmed to recognize what to let inside. After a few seconds pressing, his armful of food phased through the wall and inside the box. The bugs swarmed, and Rex repeated the process. 

After a few rounds of this, White spoke up. “This isn’t working, Rex. I just got word from the agents guarding the core. They’re on the brink of collapse.”

“And? What else could you possibly want me to do?” snapped Rex. He was flushed and shaking, body strained from the production of metal. Unable to carry the whole load at a time, he’d been making four trips for every set of limbs. 

“I want you to save them.” 

Starting to feel more hopeless than he’d ever admit, Rex stared down at his hands again. His body; always the key to saving lives, always the perfect sacrifice. 

“Rex, think about the people who need you. Remember Six. Remember Doctor Holiday. Even remember your chimp friend. You are the only one who can reasonably distract enough of these EVOs…”

White continued speaking, a drawn out emotional campaign which was useless because, actually, Rex already had his own version of that speech constantly playing in his head. If that old man thought he needed help forming a martyr complex, he really didn’t know Rex that well at all. 

Not saying anything else, not allowing himself to think more of it, Rex stuck his hands inside the box. His Smack Hands, of course. Which, actually, didn’t feel any less vulnerable or sensitive once the EVOs started to bite in earnest.

“Don’tthinkaboutdontthinkaboutitdontthinkaboutit—“ Rex whispered like a prayer, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to the box. He couldn’t swallow the low keen forcing itself from the back of his throat. It rang in his ears, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of EVOs rending metal. Rex could hear their wings buzzing, their bodies wriggling, could feel each bite of alien teeth like it was tearing into his skin. He wondered if he was bleeding. It felt like he should be bleeding, the way this hurt. Rex could hardly think over the sense of wrong-wrong-wrong and error/malfunction/warning clamoring for attention in his head.

“Just like fighting any other EVO,” the boy forced himself to say through gritted teeth. “Just like getting in a fight… just… this is no big deal,” he insisted. “No big… agh!” 

Shouting, Rex twisted himself free and landed hard on his bottom. Adrenaline thrummed in a familiar rhythm. The young EVO felt his heartbeat in his ears, his teeth chattering minutely. 

This wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t, Rex thought, and forced himself to glance down so he could inspect the damage.

It was funny— in a distant, horrible sort of way that wasn’t funny at all— how Rex felt an instinctive lurch of horror at seeing himself mangled, even if the human brain shouldn’t normally recognize scraps of damaged metal as intrinsically wrong. Some inner part of Rex knew it was him, knew that he was staring down at mechanisms which had grown from his own body, stripped bare and pathetic.

Sucking in a breath, Rex held his arms limply, gingerly. Bits of metal barely remained, his flesh beneath thankfully unmarked except for a few surface cuts bleeding gently. 

“Rex! Get a move on. Need I remind you that we do not have all day?” 

Rex squeezed his eyes shut. Okay. He could do this. A few more times and White would close the box, and that would buy everyone some time before Holiday whipped up her chemical thingy. Okay. 

Without any more fanfare, Rex went back in. He stuck his hands inside and reformed another set of metal arms. Maybe, the boy hoped, he would adjust to the pain the longer it went on. Maybe this would be fine.

It was not. 

The first bite was impossible to distinguish from the third or seventh. This was not like wrestling with a bear or tangling with a lion. It would be more comparable to say that Rex felt like he’d just stuck both arms inside a deep fryer; the pain was white hot, relentless, and made his eyes burn with unshed tears until he yanked himself free.

“Again,” ordered White Knight.

The young EVO felt himself hesitate. Just a moment, just a second, before he pushed on. He needed to do this. He had to do this. Never mind how Rex’s whole body seemed to clenched just at the thought. 

He stuck his hands in.

He screamed the moment metal formed.

After a few minutes he spoke.“H-hey, uh, maybe this will be a funny story someday,” Rex decided rhetorically, eyes clenched tightly. “I mean, I know most EVOs find me delicious, but this— agh!— this is ridiculous!”

A shudder. Rex bit his lip. Hard. Don’t cry, he told himself. Don’t you dare cry. With effort, he pulled himself from the box. The swarm on the other side buzzed menacingly, stirred into a frenzy. 

“You’re almost there,” said White, heard in between Rex’s own gasps. “The swarm is shifting its position within the building. Get in there. Come on, Rex. You can do this.” The words almost could’ve passed for tender, but were nonetheless difficult to glean comfort from. “One more round,” the older man promised.

“One more?” panted Rex from the ground. “And you’ll close the box?”

“Yes. We’re nearly full anyway.” 

One more time, the teen thought, determination surging. One more time.

He went back into it like throwing a punch, like he was dragging victory out of the gullet of some great beast, a sharp cry bursting free from his chest. The EVO insects fell over themselves on the other side of the box, entirely filling up the space with their bodies from floor to ceiling. Rex was like a charger plugged into a writhing wall of blackness. Above, the lights flickered unsteadily, shakily, before being replaced by the harsh red glow of emergency lighting. 

Rex felt them, the insects crawling, biting, ripping him to pieces. Too much— always too much— but the boy held on.

Until, eventually, there wasn’t much left of his Smack Hands at all. Until, eventually, the bugs were merely scraping at his actual arms, not yet outright tearing into flesh. Sinking in relief, Rex tried to pull back.

Only to find he couldn’t. 

Rex’s eyes shot open. “White?” He pulled against the box, his arms caught at the bicep, half-phased through the plastic-like container. There were no openings and no give. “White! Something’s wrong. I-I think the computer’s malfunctioning, it—“ The young EVO tried to use his powers, but couldn’t reach anything electronic from this angle, couldn’t focus among the insects so terrifyingly close. 

“It’s not a malfunction,” droned White calmly. He nearly sounded bored. “I’ve taken control remotely. The containment unit is doing exactly as instructed.” 

“Wait, you…” his words registered. The weight and dread within Rex grew as if too large for his body. Following close was a rush of anger. He leaned all his weight backward, straining. “Are you— no, did someone slip something in your milk? Are you insane?!” 

“I’m being perfectly rational. You’re the one being slow on the uptake, Rex. You’ve managed to lessen the burden for those below, but for how long? You really think containing a few of these things will make a big difference? Holiday is almost done. I need you— no, we need you to keep going a bit longer. And, frankly speaking, if I were you I would build something quickly; those EVOs look hungry, after all.” 

There were few times when Rex had felt as scared and helpless as he did now. Maybe, at the back of his mind, he always felt a bit helpless. Maybe this was Rex’s relationship with Providence in a nutshell. 

Either way, there weren’t many options to be found. 

Metal grew from Rex’s arms. For once, it felt like one of the most unnatural things in the world. One of the most painful too. The bugs swarmed and he let them have their way. 

And when that was done, when Rex still couldn’t pull free, when White refused to answer over the communication line, Rex did it again. And again. And again.

And a lot more after that.

Absently, some time later, Rex noticed that his vision had gone blurry. His cheeks felt wet, something dripping down his chin, clinging along his neck and under his collar. The tears flowed freely, a salty tang on his lips. 

Another set of metal hands manifested by habit. More pain followed.

Finally, a shockwave echoed throughout the building. Finally, a type of commotion carried down the hall, purple gas visibly wafting from the vents, the insects writhing in their collective death throes.

Rex dropped to his knees. He could still hear a persistent buzz pressing in from all sides. The clear box released his arms with a pop. Rex fell flat on his back. The red emergency light above glared with oppressive sovereignty.

“There, didn’t I say it would all work out?” said White in his ear, practically smug.

Not really, Rex thought to himself. With effort, still not quite feeling like he was in his body, Rex removed the earpiece. 

It crushed easily in his metal palm. 

Chapter Text

“ ‘Fear of the Variated Family? ’” Rex repeated. He looked over the goofy cover of the DVD, grin growing wider.

“It’s just an EVO flick,” Claire defended. She had her back to him, fiddling with the remote connected to Annie’s gigantic home theater. 

Rex plopped down onto one of the large reclining seats. “That thing? An EVO? And here I thought it was a haunted vacuum cleaner wearing a potato sack.” 

“Hey, no judging before you try it,” she chided. “Annie and I love these sorts of movies; the low budget style means you’re not sponsoring another soulless corporate monopoly. Besides, part of the fun is that this stuff is fake-looking and unrealistic. It’s hilarious.” 

“If that’s what passes for your guys’ sense of humor, I guess…”

“Or maybe,” interrupted Annie from atop the stairs, “You’re just a big scaredy-cat.” 

“Yep. Sounds like Rex to me,” commented Noah from behind her. “Never met a bigger wuss in my life.” 

Rex twisted around in his chair, faux-affronted as he watched the two precariously balance an armful of snacks. “Is that a challenge?” the young EVO inquired. 

“Uh, no,” said Noah. “No challenges tonight, and definitely no dangerous shenanigans for once. Just a simple, laidback movie-night among… uh, friends.” At the last word he looked over to Claire, not at all subtle with his blushing face and lovesick expression. 

Rex very maturely resisted the urge to gag or make gross kissy faces at him. 

“Hey, have any of you guys seen my thermos?” asked Annie, making her way down the stairs. A mountain of candy, popcorn, and s’mores wobbled with each step. “I could’a sworn I left it he— ear!”

With a lurch, Annie’s foot connected with her ‘missing’ thermos, sending her and the snacks flying. 

Rex, who’d learned by now to put his Providence-instilled reflexes to good use around Annie, dove for his plummeting friend first, then built one of his Smack Hands out to catch the food. It was ridiculous to feel pride over something so small, but well. Mission accomplished, he thought happily.

A round of fake applause emanated from their audience. 

“Ah yes, the hero valiantly saves the day,” joked Claire.

“Nah, that’s just him trying to upstage me again,” said Noah.

Rex raised a brow. “You say that like it’s hard.” 

With more grace than one would expect from a giant metal mitten, he set the snacks down on the low coffee table. Noah was quick to reorder the pile into something more organized. 

“Um, Rex?” uttered Annie. “Your grip…?.”

“Huh?” The boy took in how she was pressed to his side, less in a romantic way and more how Rex usually yanked civilians out of danger, securely but not too softly.

The young EVO released her with a jump. “Uh, sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. 

“What for?” Annie elbowed him in the side. “You probably saved me from breaking the tv or something.”

She smiled then, friendly and warm and almost startlingly safe. Rex wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be pleased or disappointed by how her expression read as platonic. Would a normal teenage boy want something else? Something more? Rex wondered about stuff like that.

The sudden dimming of the lights interrupted his train of thought.

“Yes!” shouted Claire. “Finally, this thing is working.” With relief, she sat back on one of the large seats and brandished the remote.

“Um, sorry again for that,” said Annie, moving to sit beside her. “I kinda broke the last, er, several since you were here. Long story.”

Unanimously, the rest of the group shrugged this fact off. It was hardly the most surprising revelation of the night, outpaced soundly by the fact that Annie’s house was gigantic and obviously of the upper- upper middle class variety. Her parents were loaded because they designed high-tech safety equipment of all things. Rex had point-blank asked if she was kidding. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” said Noah. He also reclined in his seat, happily positioned on Claire’s other side. He grabbed a bowl of popcorn and asked, “Remind me again, what did you say this is about?”

Annie was quick to lean over Claire in excitement. “So there’s a family vacationing in the woods, only these aren’t normal woods, and also the dad is crazy, and so one of them goes EVO, and we find out it’s because—“

“Annie! No spoilers!” Claire pushed her friend away, back into her own seat. “ Summarize .”

Rex raised his hand. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh shush, you. And look, it’s starting anyway.”

And so it was. 

Rex moved a few seats over for a better view. He made himself comfortable, digging into a mixture of M&Ms and caramel corn. The opening credits appeared just before the title, accompanied by a backdrop of forestry as someone shakily filmed while driving.

For the first few minutes everyone was quiet, leading Rex to assume this would be like the etiquette of a theater. That is, until Claire and Annie word-for-word repeated an especially cringe-worthy line of dialogue as it was said, laughing at the whole thing, and from there everything was fair game. Noah made a big deal about the forest backdrop not looking anything like the redwoods, as had been claimed. Rex alternated between critiquing and praising the movie for being so undeniably a cheesy labor of love. Annie commented on various injuries and accidents being unrealistic. Claire occasionally told them to pipe down for the ‘serious’ moments, only to chime in during her own favorite bits. Overall, the costumes were basic, the lighting was weird, zero actors were recognizable, and generally there was a lot to nitpick when it came to each character’s actions. 

In short, Rex loved it. 

Or at least, he did for the first forty minutes or so. Then, by the time the surviving characters were running through an underground research center (which really looked more like an empty office building, plus a few props and some extras wearing lab coats) things started to get weird.

Rex couldn’t stop noticing the yellow lighting everywhere. It was a cheap thing, maybe some LED tape or whatever stuck to certain places in each scene. But it was just yellow enough, and just bright enough, and just present enough to remind him of Van Kleiss’s freaky machines, of Rylander’s homegrown nanites, of other doomsday devices which left him prickling uncomfortably beneath the skin just at the thought. 

The young EVO took a sip of water, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat. He tried not to relate too heavily with the main protagonist, a teen girl who’d so far survived the EVOs and the evil scientists chasing after her, not without receiving some rough treatment and watching a few people die. She ran through an endless number of dark hallways— suddenly separated from the friend group, of course— panting and drenched in sweat (drenched in water and makeup, Rex corrected to himself), a sheet of important security codes clutched in her hand. 

She was freaking out, he thought. Desperate to save her friends in time by reaching the computer terminal. Rex would’ve verbally complimented the actress on her skill if he wasn’t uncomfortable with how deeply he was feeling her fake-panic. His breath picked up. His palms grew sweaty. Everything went a bit jittery and anxious-feeling, sparking the sudden urge to get up and pace. He felt like he was in the scene now, running through that dark tunnel— that collapsed building, that danger zone, that sewer system— the way he had so many times before. 

And the lighting. The lighting.

“Hey, any of you guys want to pop in another DVD real quick?”

Rex hadn’t even realized those words were coming out of his mouth until the others turned to look at him weird. Claire paused the movie. 

“Why, what’s wrong with this one?” asked Noah. It was spoken casually. A simple question given that they’d all been having fun so far. Mostly. 

Annie almost looked hurt. “Is it too boring? I know it’s not exactly a classic blockbuster, but…” 

Guilt running him over like a semi-truck, Rex was quick to wave his hands. “No! Not at all! I was just, uh, excited? For the other movies? I just really want to watch those too before I get called away by Providence. Um, you know those guys. Seriously, I bet White Knight actually enjoys interrupting my free time.” He forced a chuckle.

“Well, we can always just pause it if that happens,” pointed out Claire. “I figured that might be a risk, actually, so we have it rented for longer than usual.” 

“Guess that’s one perk of being a spoiled rich kid,” teased Noah at Annie. She punched him in the shoulder, making him wince.

Sympathetically, Claire continued, “Look, we know you don’t get to do stuff like this often, so… we try to make it work. It’s fun hanging out with you, Rex. I mean, I’d like to think we’re all friends at this point. Right?”

Her words, frank and sincere, set Rex’s cheeks aflame. The young EVO found himself awash in a confusing mix of awe, gratitude, and embarrassment. Mostly the first two, though he did find himself absently thankful that the lighting hid his blush. 

However, the young man was also experiencing a decent amount of frustration. A general upset, both at his request failing and at his own weird emotions for nearly ruining this experience. Maybe Rex really was a scaredy-cat if he wanted to tap out from a dumb movie, of all things.

Determined to conquer his nerves, the boy stiffly leaned back in his seat. “Um. Okay. If you’re sure, I guess.” 

Claire nodded with a smile. A second later the movie unpaused. 

The sound returned like a clap of thunder, almost making Rex flinch. He swallowed. It’s just a scary movie, he told himself. They’re supposed to be fun.

That was the general idea Rex repeated as the film played out before his eyes.

When his heartbeat refused to slow down— when it began to speed up instead, when the character’s terror still felt real, and he found glimpses of his own life flashing at the forefront— Rex first tried to avert his eyes, tried to distract himself. He focused on the sensation beneath his gloved fingers, faux-leather armrests squeaking in his grip. He mechanically shoveled food into his mouth, hardly tasting it over the flavor of anxious nausea. He averted his eyes, then closed them, then snapped them back open because the lights and sounds were too prominent anyway, and he was worried that the others would think he was sleeping or bored. 

“Just like exposure therapy,” Rex eventually whispered, barely audible even to himself. 

And that worked fine— really it did! Although it was also not the slightest bit fun, and that in itself made Rex angry for being so abnormal about this whole thing. Couldn’t he just enjoy himself? Couldn’t he just work through this, and get along like everyone else? 

The inner condemnation was instinctive, but not very helpful.

Hyperventilation was on Rex’s doorstep, held back only through sheer will. He wanted to claw himself out of his own constricting, unpleasant skin. Skin which covered a body, which held a brain, which remembered in shockingly vivid detail what it was like to sprint through Rylander’s base, or to get lost in other freaky locations.

And then the main villain pulled out a giant metal claw, and—

(Which wasn’t even the right shade of yellow and it looked even tackier than the real thing and it made his blood pump in his ears and his jaw clench and his eyes burn and—) 

 “Now, now,” said the evil scientist on-screen, his words overlapping with other people inside Rex’s head. “ I think we’ve been more than gentle— (“Now, now, Rex. I think we’ve had enough games for one day.”)  “You’ll want to make this easy on your — (“You’ll come quietly or—)

And then the bad guy said something else, blurry and indistinct in Rex’s ears. He couldn’t make it out, couldn’t feel beyond the familiar terror in his veins, the need to move, to do something—

A woman screamed. She was in danger! She needed him! She was—

Rex flinched wildly when the lights turned back on, suddenly just a little more inside the present. Someone was saying something to him, someone was saying…

“Dude. What the hell? ” asked Noah, standing beside Claire and Annie.

All three of them were looking at Rex now, no longer in their seats. Looking at him because— and here he finally looked down at himself, at his position, self-horror mounting— because his Huge Freaking Sword was currently built out of his arm, squarely pointed towards the TV.

“Gah!” The sword crumbled right off of him, biometrics plummeting. Rex couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He hadn’t even noticed. The young man dared to glance up at the others.

Noah met his eyes. He took a hesitant step forward, reaching out a hand like soothing a wounded animal. “Dude… are you okay?” 

Behind Noah, Claire and Annie stood close together, huddled, worried, almost like Rex was something to be afraid of, like he was some wild EVO —

The young boy hardly even cemented the idea in his mind before he was jumping over the seats, fleeing the room. He didn’t know where he was running, just that he couldn’t breath, and he didn’t feel safe, and shame sat in him like a molten mass burning from the inside out. He sprinted, bumping into walls and narrowly knocking over a vase (who decided a hazard like that could survive Annie’s house? he wondered) before catching sight of the guest bathroom and bolting in there.

The teenager didn’t really know what he was doing. He paced around a bit, nearly tearing out his hair and knocking his goggles askew, then sat in the bathtub like it could protect him.

Rex began to regret these decisions when the walls started to close in— claustrophobic like his old room at Providence, like CAT scans and lab procedures, like being physically pinned by an enemy, because normally he needed open spaces and emptiness to calm down— when all of a sudden Noah was at the door.

“Rex?” He knocked, then jiggled the door handle a few times. Rex hadn’t even realized he’d locked it behind him.

“Hey man, no one’s freaking out or anything, but… what’s going on? You totally flipped out on us. Is something…?” He trailed off, but there was no disguising the concern in Noah’s tone. That only made Rex feel worse.

The young EVO buried his head in his arms, letting out a low noise that did not sound like a whimper, thank you. How to talk his way out of this one? It was difficult to think over how crappy he felt, the effects of the movie combining with his newfound shame and embarrassment. On top of looking like a total headcase, Rex had interrupted their movie night. And after they’d been so nice to him too. Just great. 

“N-no way,” Rex tried. “I’m… I’m totally fine, Noah. Really! I just, uh, needed to use the bathroom super badly? Y-you guys can unpause it without me I… think I’m gonna be awhile.”

Noah’s unimpressed reaction was clear even through the door. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? Dude, you don’t even sound right… Just let me in?”

Rex pulled himself into a ball, squeezing his knees into a hug so compact it verged on pain. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Most of all, in some small corner of his mind that he didn’t want to acknowledge, Rex kind of thought he deserved to feel like this for the times he let people down.

“C’mon, Rex. I want to help you, man, but I can’t do that if you don’t open the door.”

“Um, here, let me try,” piped up another voice.

After a short moment, Rex startled when the door splintered, collapsing into a pile of wood chips on the ground. Annie cautiously entered a second later, followed by the other two poking their heads in.

If it were any other time Rex would’ve been curious how that had happened. Presently, he was torn between curling up even smaller, or standing to prove how completely okay he was. 

The other three didn’t say anything, thankfully. They all milled around silently, forcibly casual, like their collective evening had just naturally ended up in the bathroom and not because Rex had dragged them here with his flamboyant meltdown. Another moment passed.

Cheeks burning red, heart rate mellowing, Rex finally made himself stand up. He couldn’t bring himself to meet any of their eyes. “So. That happened,” he said.

More silence. Then Noah took a step forward, about awkward when he said, “Hey. Don’t worry about it.” 

Rex tensed up when someone put their hand on his shoulder, only to relax when the touch was gentle, when he saw it was Annie. “Trust me, my parents are used to the house being a mess,” she comforted.

It didn’t take much more coaxing for them to lead Rex back to the theater area. He followed along like a drone on autopilot. Normally, the teen would’ve been talking a mile a minute by now, babbling out apologies and observations, but that urge was tempered purely by how embarrassing this all was. In this situation Rex was not a hero or someone who fixed things, someone who earned attention for the right reasons, but rather a little kid getting a bandaid from indulgent grown ups, tired out after throwing a tantrum. It was a good feeling but not. Like Rex was a scummy little thing his friends were mistakenly doting on. It didn’t feel normal. It didn’t feel earned. It was outside of Rex’s frame of reference.

But Annie’s grip on his hand did feel soft. And no one immediately resumed that cursed movie on the screen. That was something. 

Instead, Annie had him sit on another chair, facing away from where he’d accidentally sliced up the carpeting with his sword. Claire moved to eject the DVD. Noah stood nearby with his hands in his pockets, visibly out of sorts but still present. 

“Um. I guess you didn’t like the movie?” he began. 

Rex groaned. 

“Well, it obviously isn’t because you don’t like horror in general,” said Claire, as if she were laying out the preliminary details for some type of school project. “So I guess that means it was a specific trigger, maybe the lab setting?” 

In a way, Rex found himself relieved that she wasn’t asking him directly, that she was piecing it together on her own. Less work for him that way. Although…

“Please stop. You guys seriously don’t have to do this,” begged Rex. “Can we just forget this ever happened, and silently pretend that I’m not a total spaz?” 

Annie pointed a finger in his face. “Hey. No negative self-talk,” she ordered. “We’re your friends, and we’re gonna talk about whatever’s bothering you, or so help me —“

“I mean, maybe you should talk about it?” said Noah unsurely. He held up his hands when Rex looked up at him with betrayal. “I’m just saying! You don’t talk about stuff, dude. And I’m not exactly a feelings guy myself, so I don’t push, but I at least thought we were close enough that’d you mention if a movie makes you uncomfortable, instead of driving yourself into a freaking panic attack because you want to, I don’t know, be macho?” 

“… wasn’t a panic attack,” was all Rex could mumble in response. 

“It isn’t healthy to bottle up your feelings, Rex,” chided Claire. Softer, she added, “And you don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, but… we are here to listen.” 

Finally, Rex looked up to meet her eyes, then Noah’s, then Annie’s. “I…” Something was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know what. What could Rex even say? ‘Oh, don’t worry, that movie just reminded me of all the crazy dangerous stuff that happens on a regular basis, no big. I pretend none of it’s important enough to remember anyway, the amnesia gives me practice. Cool of you guys to ask though.’ 

“Or…” said Annie. “it’s fine if you don’t know what to say. Um. How about we make some space and like. Let you think about it?” She looked to the others for confirmation, and then they… well, left him alone.

It was a strange situation for Rex to be in. 

Noah and Claire sat a few chairs over, pulling out a cellphone and a book respectively, while Annie pulled a ball out from somewhere and started playing hacky-sack. No one reacted when she, through a series of mishaps, broke the coffee table into pieces. 

All three of them stayed like that, nearby, for a good fifteen minutes. Somehow that fact allowed Rex to breathe easier. A weight he hadn’t realized he was still carrying began to drop off his shoulders, as if there wasn’t such a rush to diagnose himself, to offer a solution so everyone could move on.

It felt different from how Rex normally approached sharing his problems. Probably because that was always within the world of Providence. Over there, even if Rex was talking to Holiday, or Six, or even Bobo, he couldn’t shake the sense that he was somehow distracting others from more important work. Burdening them with issues that were too obvious, pulling them away from saving lives, adding one more crisis to the already growing list. 

They didn’t try to make him feel that way, Rex thought. They did their best.

But still.

Holiday was eager to discuss Rex’s mental state, almost too much. When she knew that Rex was having a hard time she shuffled around her lunch breaks and precious free hours, setting things up in her office like a therapy appointment. It helped, sort of. There were times she muttered under her breath, thinking he couldn’t hear her wish aloud that she’d taken those psychology courses back in the day, although Rex knew that she’d done a lot of reading up on child development and trauma and behavioral stuff since knowing him. Sometimes it felt unfair though, because Holiday liked to solve problems, but most of Rex’s problems didn’t have answers in the first place. Or at least none Holiday was in a position to provide. Rex watched it play across her face sometimes, pink lips pressing in a thin line as if to seal away all her pent up emotions. Her brows furrowed and her eyes squinted, shadowed skin peeking out from beneath makeup artfully used to hide tiredness. Rex didn’t want to add to her pile of unsolvable burdens.

Meanwhile, Six didn’t like discussing feelings at the best of times. On some level it seemed silly to rehash events that the older man was usually present for anyway. It felt too optimistic around him, the idea that talking about a screwy situation would make it easier to manage. And besides, if Six could be cool and mysterious and totally stoic, Rex felt like he should live up to that standard too. He wanted to make the man proud. 

Out of all of them, maybe Bobo related to Rex the most. They were sort of in a similar boat, being the only two EVOs actually working for Providence. Bobo wasn’t The Cure (™), but he understood what it meant for your life to not entirely be your own, when putting yourself at risk for the sake of humans was a given and not fully treated as a choice. A lot of times, when their mutual intolerance for the whole Providence deal synced up, Bobo would encourage ‘stress relief’ by demanding break-outs and fast food runs. There was no talking to be had. Only simple indulgences, the kind enjoyed during the moment without any over thinking allowed. 

And of course there was always White Knight around, barking orders from behind a computer screen, with stunning catch phrases like ‘no time to waste crying in a corner’ and ‘lives lost every second.’ A real great pep-talker, that guy. 

“… Rex?” It was Claire speaking. 

The young man broke out of his thoughts. He turned to her, noticing how the other two were unsubtly waiting for his reaction.

“I… I think I do want to talk,” admitted Rex. The truth of the words surprised him as he said it. “Just. Maybe not tonight? Or…” Rex trailed off. “Honestly, I don’t think my first instinct is to talk about my problems at all. More like punch them.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s… kinda nice to know that you’re all willing to drop everything for me though.” And more than a little overwhelming, he didn’t say. 

Pushing onward, because if Rex didn’t speak now he knew he never would, “Look, just to be completely transparent, I was only freaked out because that movie, uh, sorta reminds me of some… work stuff.”

“Providence stuff?” translated Claire, tone critical.

It rubbed him wrong the way she said it, but, “Yeah. Obviously that’s what I meant.” The words possibly came out more defensive than intended.

Noah butted in. “Okay, okay, let’s not get into a debate over who should or shouldn’t be working for a certain shady militarized group.” He looked at both of them while he spoke, but the words obviously referenced some longstanding conversation between him and Claire. 

“So it was a bad memory?” asked Annie, steering them to the original focus. Rex was both frustrated and relieved by her resuming the topic.

“Um. Yeah.” Rex took off his goggles and fidgeted with them so he had something to do. “Like, you know. Dark spaces… typical threats to mankind… running for my life a lot. Um. Really, I kept thinking of the time I watched Rylander and Van Kleiss kill each other.”

“… Who did what ?” asked Noah.

“Oh, right. Never mentioned that. Um. He was basically a hermit scientist who knew my parents and worked on the nanite project, but then Van Kleiss —” he emphasized the name with loathing, “—got involved. After that, I was never able to ask Rylander any more important questions.” Rex looked at the ceiling in thought. “Also he jabbed me with a needle, which I did learn was for a good reason, but kinda freaked me out at the time. I mean, my nanites can break down most substances, but poisons and knock-out gas still give me funny dreams, you know?”

“… Again. Who did what?” Noah lunged forward, physically grabbing and twisting Rex around, as if he could find any internal damage by merely turning his friend into a pretzel. “Tell me Providence at least gave you a thorough medical inspection after that,” Noah demanded, half hysterical.

“I mean, duh. You say that like I don’t spend a quarter of my time in a lab or sleeping on a medical cot.”

By the ensuing horrified silence, Rex assumed that wasn’t a very reassuring statement.

“Because they value me!” he defended. “Just to make sure I’m in good condition. You know, ‘cause I’m ‘The Cure,’” he said, using air quotes.

“Yeah… that’s not as comforting to hear as you think it is.” said Noah. 

Rex closed his eyes. He pulled away from Noah’s grip. “Look, you know what the issue was now. Can we drop it?” He looked to the side. “I… really just want to watch a different movie.”

They looked at each other, concern still written on their faces, but—

“I also rented a gooshy rom-com,” enticed Claire with a teasing tone. “I’m pretty sure you mentioned loving the actor in it, too.”

All at once, Rex collapsed back into the chair. “Oh my gosh, yes . It’s like you read my mind.” 

“And I’ll clean up the coffee table!” volunteered Annie.

“Um, and I’ll help,” insisted Noah. “Could you show me where you keep the vacuum? It’s really not a good idea to leave all these splinters lying around.” 

While the two of them worked on cleaning, Claire went to replace the film. No fuss, no disappointment. As if a horror movie had never factored into their plans at all. 

Decompressing in the newfound easy silence, the young EVO patiently waited. “I have some really great friends,” Rex whispered to himself. 

A moment later they all sat down again. The lights dimmed. Popcorn was provided. Rex did, indeed, recognize the actor.

And they all had a great time.

Chapter Text

— “Trust - Part 1”

Perhaps it should have been considered an insult to his intelligence, or to his responsibilities as a brother, but truthfully Caesar had put his issues with Rex out of mind for the first three months.

In his defense, five years into the future (or more accurately five years passing him by ) made for a lot of scientific discoveries to be caught up on. Once Providence had assigned him a lab and the freedom to tinker as he liked, Caesar hunkered down for a research-binge that was typical by his standards but probably excessive for others. 

A few times when he went to grab a coffee in the cafeteria, Dr. Holiday had spotted him across the room. She didn’t say anything or make a move to approach him, but nonetheless wore a deeply judgmental look on her face. A degree of professional jealousy, perhaps, because she wasn’t allowed the same permissions? 

Other soldiers around base regarded Caesar with similar wariness, though in the case of that Agent Six fellow it was hard to tell how much was specific and exclusive distrust, or if the man generally gave off that air without trying.

Even the EVO chimp disliked him! They hardly saw one another, but it was hard to miss a flood of acerbic comments directed at his person when it did happen.  Although, through some basic observation, it would seem Bobo was rude to nearly everyone as a baseline standard. Caesar hesitated to claim he was being singled out for that reason, but the feeling of disapproval remained. 

Either way, it didn’t bother him much. Or at least, he’d learned to not let it bother him. Caesar had worked with others long enough to know that he typically rubbed people the wrong way. For some reason. None of it had ever been satisfyingly explained by those who cared to bring it up. Thankfully, inventing was both far more important than personal squabbles, and also decently distracting.

The source of Doctor Holiday and the others’ judgment became apparent, however, not long after Caesar was invited to dinner. 

In a profoundly admirable display of stubbornness, Rex had begged him to attend on no less than twenty-seven different occasions since Caesar’s reappearance. Which was flattering, in its own way, but also extremely detrimental to his progress on understanding nanites as they had come to affect the world.

“And you honestly can’t spare, like, forty minutes at most from that just to eat with me?” As usual, Rex was quite dramatic when he asked this, the little scamp. 

Caesar only needed an instant to consider the question, not looking up from where he was hunched over a microscope, observing nanites as they interacted with an interesting compound he’d whipped up a few hours ago. “Well, I could,” he answered. “But I could do a lot of things. Like learn to juggle, or join you in accordion lessons.”

“Accordion?” Rex’s voice went louder, cracking very slightly with the edge of youth. “Caesar, I told you, I don’t even—“

“However,” Caesar continued. “I’m not interested in any of those things. At least not right now. Trust me, I have a very complete schedule planned out. I’ll have time for you eventually,” he comforted. Which was true. Caesar had been looking forward to his social appointments with Rex for a while now. 

“But I don’t want to wait around for ‘eventually,’ Caesar. Don’t you get that this is important to me? Just—“ Rex interrupted himself, tugging on Caesar’s arm with urgency. “Hey! Would you at least look at me while I talk to you?”

Aware that the chemical reaction he was hoping for would take at least another ten minutes to occur, Caesar turned. Rex’s expression was difficult to read, the boy’s gloved hand clinging to Caesar’s work jacket. An emotional reaction of some kind, that was certain. 

The teenager took a breath. “I want you to eat dinner with my… my family. The one I remember. I want you to be part of my life, Caesar, and—and—” he shut his eyes tightly. “I want to know you. Sixteen years! I’m sixteen years old, and I only remember the last two. Not even, barely twenty months. It’s just… Do you have any idea how that feels? How this feels? You know me better than I know myself, you have almost every answer I could possibly want, you’re the family member I’ve been dreaming of finding, but to you I’m… what? Barely a priority?”

Caesar straightened in shock. “Of course not.” The older man wasn’t sure how to convey the degree to which that was absolutely untrue. Unmoored, lacking any further insight for how to navigate this terrain, he placed a hand on Rex’s shoulder.

The younger man opened his eyes. He softened, boyish face more vulnerable than ever. He hesitated for only a moment to place his own hand over Caesar’s. “It just feels… it doesn’t…I don’t…”

Rex’s words, coated in sticky distress, conjured up an emotion which was both nebulous and difficult to quantify. “That’s… well. I could show you my calendar, if that’d help?” Caesar tried.

Frustrated, Rex shrugged off his brother’s hand, stepping away to pace. “You’re not understanding me,” the teenager complained. He seemed determined to carve a hole through the lab with his stomping. 

Rex had always been like this, Caesar thought. Very emotional, that was. Constantly itching for some kind of attention. Perhaps that came with the territory of being the baby in a family full of busy, overachieving scientists. Family was important, but so were life-saving inventions, and conferences, and academic achievements, and a thousand other things which ate up time. There were family dinners, and lengthy trips to visit Abuela, but just as often it was the worn catchphrase of ‘Not now, Rex’ or ‘Later, Rex’ being flung out into the air. 

Although, it wasn’t as if Rex recalled those details, did he? And come to think of it, his brother’s pleas for company had never felt so desperate, his face never so beseeching. Motivations were simple and yet complicated, familiar and yet unknown when it came to this young man wearing Rex’s face. Some days entering a room or turning down a hall, Caesar half expected to glimpse the brother he knew just a few months ago, ten years old and caught up in some mischief. Or, being more accurate to Caesar’s recent memories, caught up in a hospital bed, full of medication and monitoring devices in the aftermath of his ‘accident.’ 

There had been a time, though, when Caesar felt the two of them communicated easily. When Rex came to him first regarding his problems, when he understood the language between them. Where had that gone, Caesar wondered? It was bizarre and captivating, how in an instant time slipped through one’s fingers. 

“… being ridiculous,” Rex muttered to himself. “Sort of, anyway. Don’t know why I thought I could make you change your mind this time. I’d have an easier time convincing White Knight about something.” 

Caesar returned to his microscope. The chemical reaction had occurred without him. Unrecorded: a useless experiment which would have to be repeated. Too late to change.

And yet the components— the sequence of it all, the natural forces on display— still mustered a spark within Caesar’s chest. He felt inspired to maintain course, to try again, to move forward with curiosity as was so often needed in his work. Adaptation was necessary for survival, he reminded himself. Even in the face of failure. Even in the face of something worse. 

Not quite sure why, the scientist turned back to Rex. “Alright, alright, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come to dinner. Maybe not the whole time,” he was quick to caution. “But. Perhaps I could spare an extended meal outside my lab. With you, that is.” 

Rex froze on the spot. He spun. “Seriously? You’ll come?”

Determined now to follow this whim, Caesar nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there. You said 5pm, correct?”

“Yes! That’s— “ Rex spun around again, letting out a whoop, hardly able to contain his excitement. Still looking at Caesar, he started to back towards the exit, as if afraid the man would recant his decision any moment now. Rex pointed. “Tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

Caesar managed a smile. “I’ll be waiting, hermano.” 

One last glance was shared, something unidentified traveling between them, the weight of a promise in the air. 

And then, finally, Rex left. 

Caesar stared at the exit as it slid shut. One moment. Another. Eventually, he turned back to his project, ready to try again. 

———

Dinner with Rex’s Providence associates went fine. 

‘Fine’ in this case meaning that nothing exploded. 

To be fair, Caesar had never much enjoyed dinner parties anyway. Judging by appearances, it would seem that Doctor Holiday, Agent Six, and the simian EVO ‘Bobo’ felt nearly the opposite. 

The four of them plus Rex sat at a rectangular dining table in an empty room, almost a parody of what constituted an all-American meal gathering. Conversation was light, though mostly carried by everyone else, and personally Caesar found it difficult to chime in. A few times he brought up scientific trivia or relevant memories of Rex’s childhood, but he wasn’t sure how desired that was at this table. Did Rex want all of those personal details on display for the others? Did he have a list of questions he was waiting to ask at a specific time? Maybe he wasn’t interested at all. Or was this gathering more about moving into the future, Caesar being inducted into this new group?

There were a lot of personal matters up for debate, was the thing. Caesar was doing his best to play it by ear. Though, it wasn’t as if Rex was being overly clear about his goals for this evening or how he wanted Caesar to communicate. None of the others were very opaque about their expectations either.

Doctor Holiday in particular kept sending Caesar pointed glances, almost imperceptibly more frustrated when he didn’t get her hidden meaning. He was starting to wonder if he should ask about it.

The setup was also very… mobile, he noticed. An adjustable table and foldout chairs, ideal for being shuffled among Providence bases on short notice. They weren’t the most comfortable pieces of furniture, unfortunately. Caesar mulled over the idea of designing his own chairs and beds and whatnot; the perfect ergonomic design, possibly coupled with programmed security defense measures and also flame retardant. That would be useful. 

“… and it drove Noah crazy,” continued Rex. He was telling another story, a lengthy ramble of endearing adventures and jokes. So far hearing him talk had been the only pleasant part of the evening. “Like, seriously. I don’t even wanna know how he studies for other tests because…” The teenager interrupted himself, abruptly scanning each person at the table. “Um… Did I miss a serious mission debriefing or something? Why does everyone look like we just bleached New York?” He pointed his fork accusingly. “You guys are eating like rabbits.” The last word was spoken rather harshly.

“Sorry, Rex,” said Doctor Holiday, seated across from Caesar. “The lab was fairly hectic today. Thanks to a few cocky new hires, we nearly had a crisis in the Petting Zoo. Not to mention my usual workload. To be honest, I might just be too exhausted for a full meal.” Nonetheless, she was quick to take a delicate bite of her mashed potatoes. 

“I ate Chinese food earlier this week,” explained Agent Six. “That was enough of a break from my diet.” Sitting to the left of Holiday, he spooned another helping of collard greens onto his plate. It was the only portion of the meal which he’d eaten with any enthusiasm. 

Bobo, who’d eaten a fair amount but also mixed and smashed his food into an unappealing concoction, busied himself with the use of a toothpick. “Personally, I thought the meat was overcooked. Could use some work on those mashed potatoes, too, Chief. And weren’t you supposed to cook enchiladas this week? What’s that about?”

Rex stirred around his own plate. “Yeah, well. Just decided to stick with a favorite, okay?” 

Caesar perked up at this. “‘Favorite?’ Interesting. You know, as a child, you couldn’t stand meatloaf. One of our parent’s colleagues brought it into the lab one day. You spat it out after the first bite.” 

The teenager blinked at him. “Huh. I… guess my taste buds have changed.” Pleasure and confusion warred on his face, settling into something mild. A disconnect, maybe, from being told stories about a person he used to be. Looking lost in thought, the boy took another bite.

For his part, Caesar had never been partial to meatloaf. No special reasoning, except that the taste and texture put him off. By far, his plate was the most untouched compared to the others. Still, he toyed with a clump of meat before bringing it to his mouth, humming around the bite. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with the chimp about the loaf being overcooked.” Seeing his brother’s frown, he quickly added, “The effort is appreciated though.”

“Mm, no, you’re right. Guess I was distracted.” 

Rex didn’t resume his story after that, and no one else was eager to fill the void. An awkward silence began to take over. 

Caesar felt distinctly like an interloper then, fairly sure even without decent evidence that there would have been talking and jovial interactions occurring were he not here. Like he was an obstacle no one knew how to maneuver around, and Rex was the only one daring to blunder forward.

“So…” the scientist managed after a while. “Why meatloaf? And… do you normally cook?” 

“Sometimes. And the food is just… homey, I guess? I met a really nice family who gave me the recipe once.” 

“Oh?” Caesar leaned forward, wanting to appear interested. “Is there a story there? How’d you meet this family? It wasn’t too dangerous by your standards, I hope.” 

Rex opened his mouth, a reply plainly on the tip of his tongue, before his lips snapped shut. “Ah. I mean, it’s not that interesting a story. Nothing you’d want to hear about, probably.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s not as if you have to entertain me, Rex. I want to here about your—“

“It’s classified,” cut in Agent Six. He took another bite of greens.

Caesar raised a brow. “So does that mean you know what happened?” 

“Not exactly. I wasn’t able to be there for Rex at the time. Same as you.” The final part was uttered as the agent titled his head, dark eyes just barely visible over the rim of his shades. 

And maybe that wasn’t meant to be said accusingly. Maybe Caesar was being unnecessarily defensive right now. “Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t able to be there,” he said anyway, an edge to his tone. “If you’d care to remember, I happened to be hurtling through space at the time. A fact which proved to be more than a tad inconvenient, surprisingly.” 

“Hey, Six doesn’t mean anything by it,” defended Rex. “‘Extenuating circumstances’ is how it goes, right?”

“Six is just a bit socially awkward,” backed up Holiday, though there was still that pointed look in her eye. “We know you care deeply about Rex. After all, you’ve just been so… attentive , these last few months.” Her voice going flatter, “I was especially taken aback by how worried you were for Rex when he got lost in that nanite-free sandstorm.” 

Rex sank lower into his chair. “Guys.” 

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Caesar couldn’t believe he actually had to defend this. “I had every faith in his ability to figure it out, and in your ability to watch over him. Just because I’m not hysterical or— or helicoptering over him 24/7, doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Sure have a funny way of showing it,” chimed in Bobo, slouching in his seat. “Then again, let me dial up a parenting magazine. I have a feeling they’ll really want to use your words of wisdom. Real A-plus advice. You sure you’re not a robot?”

“Guys!” 

As one, they all paused to take in the subject of their conversation. Rex was standing now, palms pressed flat against the table. His chair had shrieked with the movement. The boy looked genuinely upset, though how, or why, or at who was difficult to say. 

“Please,” he finally begged. “Could we talk about something else now?” The request was painfully earnest, a reminder of the child in the room.

A round of glances spread through the table. Each person silently agreed to let their grievances simmer below for a moment longer. 

Haltingly, Rex started speaking about something else. A safer topic, before Bobo took over with some tall tale which involved a lot of law breaking.

Across the table Caesar locked eyes with Rex. They didn’t speak directly for the rest of the night. 

———

Later, as the evening hours gave way to very early morning, Caesar laid awake on a table in his lab. The metal felt cool even through his comforter and clothing, the surface harsh on his back and hips, but he still considered it a more comfortable position than the sterile quarters assigned by Providence. 

An overly sentimental notion, but it would feel too much like settling in, he thought. The last send-off to what he’d known before, the final signal that he was well and truly slicing off a chunk of personal freedom to settle down. Caesar stuck close to Providence because it was the center for cutting edge nanite research, benefited by generous private and public funding, frequently in contact with novel specimens, but that didn’t mean he was ready to lower his anchor and call this port home. It was still early into this arrangement, and Caesar supposed that at his heart he was a wandering adventurer, in contrast with Providence, whose leader literally inhabited a metal box at all hours. 

Absently, he wondered if Rex had ever felt similarly uncomfortable when he first came here, barely a teenager and without any claim to memory, completely reliant on faceless soldiers and scientists to meet his needs. Was Rex ever kept up at night by questions of freedom and home? Did he struggle with the past— or a lack thereof in his case?

Probably, Caesar surmised. It would make sense given everything. Adapting to survive.

Caesar recalled how Rex spoke with the others during the early part of dinner; the obvious adoration on each of their faces; the inside jokes Caesar did not have context for; the adventures they talked around without details or explanation. 

Which was not a problem, of course. Again, Caesar was used to feeling like an outsider. Genuinely, he did enjoy being on his own most of the time.

Cassar just never thought he would feel that same distance regarding his own brother. 

Or maybe it had always been there. Was Caesar blind, or willfully oblivious? Did he not care enough? They’d spent a lot of time apart during Rex’s childhood, all things considered, but the man had always thought that was down to the age gap. 

Caesar had been their mother’s miracle child, born from a surprisingly uncomplicated pregnancy, opposite to several miscarriages afterwards. Rex had been born 17 years later using more artificial assistance, their parents’ last ditch effort at building the large family they’d always wanted.

 A child prodigy born to two genius scientists, Caesar had spent much of his childhood being ferried to and from prestigious international schools with special STEM programs. During breaks he’d come home to his baby brother, a child who seemed to grow by a mile every time Caesar saw him. 

Rex would beg for attention then, too. He’d run into the room with coloring books and actions figures, board games laid out over blueprints. Somewhere along the way, Caesar got into the habit of rationing his time. He loved his brother, cherished their time together, but there was always something bigger to do, something which pushed all of his plans with Rex to some faraway, vague ‘later.’ He’d had exams to pass, internships to earn, then jobs assisting their parents, personal ambitions, the Nanite Project.

Caesar took a deep breath. His breath was picking up. He placed a hand over his heart, sensing the elevated rhythm. Tiny lights blinked at him in the dark, machines humming on standby, their cries louder in the silence. 

He had the sudden, terrible thought that this outcome with Rex was inevitable. That distance would’ve fostered no matter what. Would resentment have flourished as well? Would Rex have always looked at Caesar, found him incapable of properly giving affection, and sought some other group to stand in? 

That was an unfair question, not actually realistic to Rex’s unique situation, but one felt deeply all the same.

Caesar pushed off his blanket, unable to lie flat any longer. His feet dangled over the edge, and he tried to focus on the cool air brushing his skin. He set his elbows on his knees, folding over, hands steepled against his forehead.

A horrible thought: Cassar wasn’t sure if he felt regret or relief at Rex’s state, his loss of memories. The emotions were all mixed up inside, the only identifiable backdrop being one of tainted grief. Was this a tragedy, he asked himself? A second chance? Could it be both? Was he a terrible brother for thinking these things? 

Was he terrible for not knowing what to do?

Time. It was always about time. Hours spent together, minutes spent apart, shared memories like a tether to some far off place which had only existed for an instant, never again, and the mind itself unreliable, shifting in this essential duty of recall. Perhaps it was unusual, but Caesar didn’t measure relationships in time served, in how long he sat next to someone, or the activities they’d done together. It wasn’t a running total in his mind. He didn’t carry around a stopwatch to gauge his affection for another person or vice versa. Love for him was experienced most keenly in the present, tied to the warmth and humor in Rex’s voice, tied to their mother’s perfume when she leaned in for a passing embrace, tied to their father’s strong fingers as he ruffled a head of dark hair. 

And yet, here Caesar was a man out of time, mind still stuttering five years or more behind. 

Meanwhile, Rex didn’t even have memories to fall back on. Surely he felt his own kind of grief, but it was likely for the unknown, for possibilities, for the concept of a happy family and a safe childhood which so far had been vastly out of reach. 

Caesar slid off the table, grabbing for his pants and jacket. 

No more, he decided. No more mooning over the past. There could only be present action from here on out, motivations to change the future. Studying and observing and trying again, and again, and again. Adapting to survive. 

Caesar didn’t know what Rex wanted from him. He didn’t know what he was capable of giving Rex.

But Caesar did know that he loved his brother. And for that, he was willing to try again. 

———

Hacking Rex’s locked door was a piece of cake.

Less easy were the instinctive reactions from two EVOs who had deadly weapons within reach and who, startled awake, sleepily mistook Caesar for an intruder. 

The scientist managed to duck and roll under Bobo’s laser fire, pressing the lights on just as Rex’s sword stopped an inch from his jugular. Caesar very much doubted his brother would’ve done anything beyond that even if he had been a real enemy, but still. He’d have to plan out any sibling talks with more detail in the future.

“Caesar?” mumbled Rex. He retracted the sword, then rubbed his eye with the back of his other hand, more reminiscent of age six than sixteen. “What in the world are you even doing at this hour, bro?” 

“I’m sorry for the disturbance,” Caesar responded sincerely. “But I need to talk with you. It’s urgent.” 

The teen snapped into awareness at that, rushing to grab his clothing. “Like an emergency? What’s wrong? Is Providence in danger? Is it Van Kleiss?” 

Bobo started slipping on his own uniform. “Criminey, always something with this place. Can’t even let a mammal catch some decent shut eye,” he huffed, muttering a few other choice words to himself. 

“Uh...” Caesar tried to adjust the tone of his request, thinking he may have overplayed the type of urgency. “No. Nothing like that. It’s more of a personal nature, actually. I was hoping the two of us could talk.” He glanced at Bobo. “Privately, if you don’t mind.” 

The chimp crossed his arms. “Next time, save this for the daylight hours.” 

“Well, according to my clock, it is actually—“

Rex stepped in, pushing Caesar towards the door. “Okay, before you guys get into an argument about clocks or something, let’s just get this over with. Be back in a sec, Bobo.” 

“Don’t expect me to wait up,” he called as they left.

———

Rex, knowing Providence’s headquarters like the back of his hand, led the both of them to an unattended door a few levels above his room. Like everything around here, it needed security clearance.

Not even thinking about it, Caesar pulled his magnetic wand from his belt, about to open the door on his own, when Rex beat him to the punch. A flash of blue, and the exit slid open easily. 

Caesar inspected where his brother was still pressing a hand over the console. “Fascinating,” he said. “Tell me, how long did that take you to master?”

Rex blinked at the man, before looking down at himself. He flexed his fingers. “What, you mean the technopath part, or everything?”

“Both?” he asked hopefully.

Stepping outside into a starry desert twilight, dry air blowing on both their faces, Rex scratched the side of his cheek. “Um, just over a year, I guess.” He opened his mouth, about to say more, but apparently thought better of it. 

Caesar decided not to ask.

A few seconds later, the teen began walking again, and Caesar followed. They were outside one of the flight hangers now. When they stopped at an edge of the platform which could almost pass for a balcony, Rex leaned over the railing.

“So…” the boy started. “What’s this about ‘urgent’ again?” 

Out in the open now, Caesar wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. “Ah. Yes, that. Well you see… I suppose I have questions.”

Rex gave him a look with exaggerated disbelief. “ You have questions? What, and I don’t?”

The scientist waved his hands. “No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. It’s just… I don’t know where I stand with you. I don’t know what you want and I… Look, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been told before that I’m. Difficult to communicate with, sometimes.” 

Rex quickly turned his face away to look over the edge. “Oh. Um. You don’t say. I would’ve never noticed.” 

“It feels like there’s distance between us,” Caesar admitted, and it left his throat more painfully than expected. “You seem to want time with me, but then, at the same time, I don’t feel like you fully trust me. Is it something I did wrong?”

A sigh. “C’mon, Caesar, I don’t… Look, I do want to spend time with you, okay? And I still think of you as my brother, but…”

Tired at staring at his hermano’s back, Caesar moved towards the railing as well. “But?”

“I don’t know you!” Rex exclaimed, and it seemed that admission hurt him too. He couldn’t meet Caesar’s eyes. “And, no offense, but you haven’t exactly given me a lot of reason to trust you either. You show up out of the blue, acting like everything is hunky-dory or something, and then buzz off to your creepy lab most of the day.”

Caesar kept quiet, listening, because he supposed there wasn’t much of a defense for that.

Rex chuckled without humor. “Okay, I know this will sound dumb, but before I met you I always thought, ‘You know, this would be so much easier if I found a lost family member, or someone from my past. Someone who loves me.’ Like I would just know , and feel things immediately, and you could… fix all my problems.”

Another sigh. “And honestly, I kind of feel guilty that I’m not… bursting with brotherly love every time I see you. I mean, I care about you,” Rex was quick to say. “But like. There isn’t some super-secret bond the way I was halfway hoping for.” His shoulders started hunching. “Do you… does that make sense?”

The words hurt Caesar, though he took them without flinching. Emotions were confusing, he thought, and maybe that was the case for everyone. 

“That’s alright,” said Caesar, and he wrapped an arm over Rex’s shoulder, not hesitating, pulling him close because he was still the adult, still the one who was supposed to offer comfort, wasn’t he? “You don’t have to apologize for how you feel. I’m sorry I don’t fully understand your needs. Our parents were better with you than I was.” He thought for a moment. “Would you like to hear more about them?”

Rex wrapped both arms around Caesar, burrowing closer into his side. “ Yes , of course, yes. I want to know everything about you and them. But…” he mumbled something into Caesar’s shirt.

“What?”

“Do— do you think you could wait a bit?” He paused. “I know that’s weird because I just said I want to know everything, but hearing you talk about them— about me— is actually kind of… painful, sometimes.” His voice hitched, teetering on the edge of a good cry. 

Caesar held him tighter. 

“I’m supposed to be overjoyed and happy and I have to feel connected to you all, but I… I’m scared,” said Rex. “Because I feel like you’re talking about someone else, and I try to picture it all in my head— picture them . And— and what if I never feel the right things? W-what if I don’t love them the way I’m supposed to? I…”

“Don’t apologize for how you feel,” Caesar repeated. He rested his chin on top of Rex’s, gelled hair tickling his skin. “I don’t know, Rex. I don’t know what the future holds. But I trust you to figure it out, whatever happens. I believe in you.”

They stood there for a while after that, silent, Caesar rubbing his brother’s back as the dawn approached. 

Chapter Text

By all accounts, according to those who knew him professionally and the much smaller group of people who knew him personally, Six was not a man easily shaken. It would take a truly significant event, on an especially taxing day, to make him admit to a feeling as overblown and destabilizing as shock.

Today was not such a day. Although, staring up at where Six’s honorary ward was balancing off a homemade contraption, it certainly came close. 

“Should I even ask what the heck I’m lookin’ at?” muttered Bobo beside him. Generally unrestrained as a matter of principle, the ape didn’t hold back on his disbelieving expression, wide eyed and gaping. His hat nearly fell off from how far back he was titling his head.

Catching sight of them both— the boy needed to work on his environmental awareness, Six cataloged—  Rex’s good cheer palpably skyrocketed even from a distance. “Six! Bobo!” the teen exclaimed. He waved them over urgently, as if somehow they could’ve missed the three-story, house-sized thing he was sitting on.

Six didn’t hesitate walking closer— because Six had been thoroughly trained out of liabilities like hesitation— but a part of him wanted to. 

It wasn’t the fault of Rex’s towering project, though that did certainly look like a safety hazard. Six stepped just within its shade, noting that it was more or less a playground fit for a teenager. Rex would probably describe it in less juvenile terms, maybe “obstacle course” or “secret clubhouse,” but that was essentially what it boiled down to. The entire structure was pure metal— giant platforms balanced on thick pillars, ladders and monkey bars and footholds for climbing, irregular steel walls, metal roofing— combined with a liberal mix of amateur graffiti and… decapitated doll heads? 

Bringing a hand to one of the pillars beside him, Six was surprised to note how cool the material felt. They were just outside Prividence’s Purgatory base in the desert, on the very edge of where the troops regularly did training drills. The hot sun was shining down as persistently as ever, and even the outcroppings of stone provided little cover. It was strange then, that this metal was only mildly hot, like a warm palm or a blanket a few minutes out of the dryer. 

Actually… Six leaned closer. His fingers slid over the surface, wiping away traces of cheap paint. Beneath the stunning cobalt sat a familiar shock of orange. Ah. That explained it then. He’d been wondering where the building materials had come from. 

Clambering footsteps sounded off from above. Evidently, Rex was tumbling down his fortress to meet them.

Bobo sidled up next to Six. He gave the paint a wary expression. “That kid better not expect me to climb up there with him. I’ve got a personal policy about gettin’ paints in my fur.” He looked upward with a curious glance. “Hey, what’s this thing made out of, anyway?” 

Right as the chimp asked, Rex dropped down. A small cloud of dirt flew up with the impact. He jogged over wearing a boyish smile and his jacket tied like a frumpy bandanna. “Okay,” he said, raising his arms expectantly. “Try to tell me you don’t think this is totally awesome.” 

Six raised a brow. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, really freakin’ incredible,” groused Bobo.

“And the best part? We’re not even done yet!”  Rex turned back to his creation, pointing with every new idea. “I was thinking that over there we could add a slide, and over there we could make a patio, and that place could be—“

“Speaking of,” Six interrupted. “Where exactly is your new… partner in crime?” The older man held up a small cooler. “Holiday sent me to give you this.” 

“Huh?” Immediately, Rex darted over to swipe it, only for Six to keep it away at the last second.

Six gave him a pointed look.

The teenager slumped. “May I please have the basket, Six?”

The older man handed it over. 

Bobo peeked inside the cooler just as Rex did. “Looks like mostly Gatorade and sunscreen,” the chimp commented, unimpressed. 

“I’m supposed to remind you to replenish your electrolytes.”

Not replying to Six’s comment, Rex smirked at Bobo. “Oh, please. You’re just jealous she didn’t pack you anything.” 

The teen grabbed a drink from inside, pausing just before he unscrewed the lid. A red flush danced over his skin, caused by more than just the heat and sunshine. “Um, could you tell the Doc I said ‘thank you?’” 

“I’ll pass it on.” Again raising his brow, “Would your friend happen to be thirsty?”

Surprise slid onto Rex’s face, followed by a teasing smile. “Aw, you’re starting to like her after all. Careful, Six. Before you know it, you could end up her new ‘favorite’.” 

“Somehow I find that unlikely. Now, if you wouldn’t mind humoring me? Technically you’re both under my supervision, but I’d prefer to keep this check-in brief. Dr. Holiday and I have an analytics meeting soon.”

Bobo grinned. “Is that what they’re callin’ it these days?” He mockingly shook his head. “Ah, I just can’t keep up with you kids and your crazy slang.”

“I’m older than you.”

“In human years, maybe.”

Ignoring them, Rex walked further beneath his metal clubhouse towards a thick support beam. He rapped his knuckles against the pillar thrice, then cupped a hand over his mouth. “Hey, Breach! I wanna see you for something, come down here a sec!”

Six and Bobo traded a glance. 

A good thirty seconds passed in silence without any indication that they’d been heard. Surprisingly, Rex did not display any impatience at this. He leaned against the pillar, comfortable and expectant. 

Then, almost gently at first, a series of resounding impacts shuddered from within the structure, emanating strongest from a dark, tunnel-like entrance directly above. The noises grew louder and louder, signaling approach, almost testing and skittish in their rhythm.

While they waited, Six questioned if any of this was normal.

Well, besides all the ways it obviously wasn’t normal, such as the ramifications of being an EVO, and the involvement of Providence. But beyond that, Six wasn’t sure he had the experience to tell. Was this good for Rex? Was it healthy to build… fortresses, or whatever this happened to be? Not to mention the matter of Breach being around him.

Procedure dictated that Six keep his distance, keep cool and catalog her current threat level, but how would this… thing with Rex, this newfound influence, affect the boy? Would Rex resent him for trying to create distance between the two? Would that cause more damage or lessen it?

These uncertainties were never permitted to broadcast across his face, but still Six found himself struggling to balance duty and human life against the wellbeing of those he held dear. The sensation was as frustrating as it was familiar.

Another thump, this one louder than all the rest, and Six looked up just in time to see Breach’s head pop out of her and Rex’s building, upside down like an eerie whack-a-mole. 

Interesting, Six thought, Bobo flinching beside him. He couldn’t recall Breach ever displaying such abilities. The movements were alien and spider-like even by her standards, and Six found it curious how she managed to hold herself so completely parallel to the ground. The ceiling above didn’t have much in the way of handholds, but nonetheless Breach skittered across the surface, every inch beneath marked unevenly with neon paint and crooked weld lines. 

Quickly, the EVO girl dropped to the ground in a manner not dissimilar to Rex’s entrance, her preppy, dull uniform splattered with bright pigment, her mary-janes caked in dirt. The mess, in some imperceptible way, nearly made Breach unrecognizable.

Or at least, she wasn’t as “creepy” as before, it seemed. Rex’s affection for the girl was clear as day, and not hindered in the least by Breach’s unusual appearance or her personality deficits. His adoration was made known in the tilt of his head, the crinkle in his eyes, the front-facing posture which hinted at eagerness and fond attention. 

In return, Breach angled her face towards Rex just-so, both sets of fists dangling loose and easy, what passed for tenderness sitting in the crook of each finger and each softened edge. It was difficult to place the intense emotion swimming behind her gaze. 

An unwise teen crush, Six wondered? A simple mix of hormones and proximity?

But no, Rex hadn’t made any of his usual (and incredibly unsubtle) flirtations during the months Breach had been with them— a ‘trial enlistment’ White had officially dubbed it, and even now Six was lacking context for how his and Rex’s negotiation regarding Breach had resulted the way it had. This was platonic. Sibling-like, if such a thing could apply to this situation.

Six chanced a look downward, locked eyes with Bobo, and received a nod in commiseration. The chimp saw it too. A disaster-in-waiting if there ever was one, not the least of reasons being that Breach herself was loyal only to Breach. And, very briefly, to the novelty toys she happened to pick up during her travels. 

Something simmered deep inside Six— an unwilled sensation, directly opposite his determination to remain impartial and cool-headed— at the thought of Rex being one such discardable toy. 

“Well?” Breach started, curt. “What is it?” 

Rex brandished the cooler. “Check it out. Sports drinks! Mostly orange, but some of the pink kind too.” He paused, visibly rethinking something, and then added “By the way, please remember that you don’t need to portal this stuff away for ‘safekeeping.’I mean, to be fair, it’s not exactly that useful when you forget where you put the stuff anyway.” 

Breach curled her lip and crossed both sets of arms. “Fine. But is all of that really from them ?” 

“Holiday packed it for both of us,” Rex answered gently. He pressed an orange drink into one of her small palms. “Here. Try it.” 

Breach accepted the drink. She inspected the item through dark bangs, curious and intent, before cradling the bottle to her chest. 

Six wondered if Breach would, in fact, ever drink it. How far did her trust extend, if it truly existed at all?

Time had passed since this arrangement of theirs first began, but Breach’s cooperation still seemed a fragile, uncertain thing. She was rarely deployed for missions, kept outside the loop of vital intelligence, and relegated to certain sections of the base with constant monitoring. In terms of using Breach’s abilities, most often Rex himself was personally needed for coaxing her into action, and only then for situations that were low stakes.

The environment must have been stifling. Even Six, an agent who didn’t especially like or even trust Breach, could see that. For a damaged EVO with a penchant for wandering and antagonistic behavior, it must have felt doubly so. Yet somehow, for the rules and requirements both reasonable and not, she complied in every way that mattered. Perfectly, even. Six didn’t understand why she was still here. Undoubtedly, there was something deeper to it, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a game to her, couldn’t recognize her little smirks and smiles as anything but a sign that she was playing them. 

“You need to try and understand her,” Rebecca told him that morning in Providence’s operating theater, dressed in scrubs, going over surgical equipment and protective gear. “Secondhand sources will only get you so far, Six. At a certain point speculation just drives people crazy.” She was preparing for an EVO autopsy. Various doctors and lab techs buzzed around them, occasionally shooting Six annoyed glances. 

Six ignored them. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed distracting her from work, but through necessity their relationship was founded on stolen moments like these. 

At length, the ex-assassin asked how she, personally, had gotten to this point with Breach. How did frosty indifference break down into an uneasy truce, when Rebecca herself once most strongly considered Breach a threat to Rex’s wellbeing? Why did Rebecca trust her?

“I don’t, honestly.” The words came out muffled through her medical mask. “Not yet, at least. But there are… tactical advantages, which I’m sure you’re aware of. And, on the other hand, more personally… well, I suppose I’m starting to feel protective.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Call me a sucker, Six, but it’s hard to look at a teenager day-in and day-out and only see a monster.”

If Six were the type, he would’ve made some noise of affirmation. That part, he could comprehend.

“Breach has done things I can’t begin to wrap my head around. Her Providence file alone is inspiration for a horror novel. But then, according to Rex, she’s also been… ‘abused’ is too little a word for it.”

Holiday turned her back to him. Six had enough experience by now to secure her protective gear thoroughly from behind.

“She flinches when you move too quickly,” Rebecca continued. “When I go to touch her for routine check-ups. That’s how it started. And look, you can call me an ‘overly emotional woman’ or whatever else someone around here wants to say, but I won’t apologize for caring. Especially when the rest of the world is already so…” 

She trailed off, but Six didn’t need to hear anything else.

Understand Breach, she said. The ex-assassin intended to, though he wasn’t sure if he’d walk away with the same assessment. Six trusted Holiday’s judgment, but he also knew enough to realize they were both cut from a different cloth. Six saw things differently. He noticed more than the rest of the world, and the things he took in most easily weren’t necessarily positive.

Breach could tear Providence into pieces if she so desired, thought Six. Her docile presence— ‘docile’ being relative— was guaranteed by nothing except the teenage boy who’d caught her fancy. Or at least, that was the running theory. After so long having her in Providence’s midst, he was nearly desperate to get to the bottom of who Breach actually was, the exact threat she posed to all of them.

“Um, Six?” Rex waved his hand in front of his mentor’s face.

The older man came back into himself (getting sloppy, he chided).“Yes. I’m listening.” 

“Right.” Rex’s eyes danced between Six and the other two. “So… did Holiday have anything else to say, then? Or are we good now?” Is the check-in over, the boy didn’t ask.

Six straightened his tie. “She also wanted me to ask about this contraption of yours. Wondered what it was made of. Although now, upon closer inspection, I believe I may have figured that part out.”

Rex leaned forward, eager. “And?”

“Like I said: impressive. I would’ve never guessed you could use parts of yourself like this. The idea might prove useful in the future.”

The young man planted his hands on his hips, playfully smug. “Funny you say that, Six, because actually it was Breach who came up with the idea.” Rex elbowed the girl who, surprisingly, took it without reaction. “I mean, obviously I did all the actual building and technical stuff myself, plus using my machines, but—“

“Amazin’,” Bobo began, looking at Breach with poorly hidden wariness, “Building a house out of body parts. That’s not concernin’ at all.”

“Speaking of which,” Rex interrupted, looking annoyed at Bobo’s comment. “Maybe we could allow an opportunity for someone to try and be more friendly, maybe?” He pointedly glanced at Breach while saying this.

She huffed, petulantly kicking the dirt. “Fine. Six, Bobo.” Their names sounded unnatural on her tongue. “Would you either if you like to… join us, I guess, up in our dollhouse?”

A pause.

“Eh, thanks, but I’m good,” answered Bobo. He tipped his hat. “Paint’s no good for my delicate complexion. I’ll catch you kids later.”

“Too bad,” replied Breach. It was difficult to know if the words were sarcastic or sincere.

Nonetheless, Six stepped forward. “Fortunately, my schedule has room for a quick tour. That is, if you’re willing.”

“Really?” smiled Rex.

“Really?” asked Bobo, far more skeptical.

“Yes.” He looked at the chimp with meaning. “Trust me, I can afford the dry cleaning bill.”

———

As gracefully as anyone could ascend a jungle gym, Six scaled the structure. Eventually, Rex led him inside a peculiar room. Or cage, more aptly. The ‘walls’ consisted of a skeletal frame, the roof providing much needed shadow. Glowsticks hung from the ceiling using bits of twine, and the floor was littered with potted plants. The former two additions seemed like a contribution from Breach.

Behind Six, Rex babbled about some planned decoration, mentioning in between how absurdly hot it was. Breach stood quietly beside him. 

“You left the cooler below,” Six reminded the boy. “Surprisingly, it would do you more good if you actually used what was inside it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The teenager shimmied over to an ‘exit.’ He looked at them both sternly. “You guys better not go anywhere without me.” 

“Why would I?” asked Breach evenly, dead serious. 

Six merely nodded.

One more loaded glance, and then Rex left. 

The following moment passed in silence, the air hot. Sweat clung to Six’s temple and beneath his shirt collar, settling along his back. He ignored the unpleasant feeling with ease, scanning over the amateur blueprints Rex had laid out on the floor. Juvenile doodles were peppered in between mathematics and mechanical designs. Six had been truthful earlier when he’d called it impressive. 

Breach, looking about as equally sweaty, moved to stand before him. “You have something to tell me,” she stated.

Six didn’t bother looking up. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s written all over you.” She huffed. “It’s so obvious: your distrust. Rex doesn’t see it because Rex doesn’t want to see it. But that’s okay. I can see it for him. Rex is good at seeing other things. Nicer things. I don’t mind.”

“You’re very attached to Rex, aren’t you.” He didn’t state it as a question.

Breach stepped closer, narrowly avoiding Rex’s blueprints with her shoes, the both of them nearly breathing each other’s air. Breach needed to tilt her head back to meet Six’s gaze, hair parting enough to reveal eyes blown wide. “Does that upset you? Me, getting my grubby hands on your precious little Providence boy?”

Six held her gaze. “Rex doesn’t belong to me, or to Providence, and he certainly doesn’t belong to you.” 

“‘Belong. Don’t belong.’ Why are you so fixated on putting us in boxes? He’s here, and I’m here: together. That’s all I care about.”

Six decided to try another line of questioning. He stepped back, the image of forced nonchalance as he inspected a glowstick. “And how did this all start, then. You and Rex being ‘together?’” Besides hearing pieces about the time travel fiasco, Rex had been suspiciously tight-lipped about the origins of everything.

“I like Rex. He’s always been one of my favorites, even when he wasn’t my favorite.”

“…Right.” 

Breach turned, leisurely walking in a circle around Six, swinging her arms. “But you want more than that, don’t you? You have concerns . You think about consequences .” She giggled. “I can’t relate. Consequences are so boring when nothing is real.”

She stopped in place, staring up at the ceiling. “Of course, Rex says that this is all real. That I’m real. Some days I’m not sure. Does it matter?” She closed her eyes. “Real or not, I think it’s nice having a friend.”

Six stared at her. “Is that so?” The words were not precisely a question, but he said it all the same. Her admission, surprisingly vulnerable, struck something in his mind. 

Breach hummed. 

Another moment of silence passed. Six wondered what was taking Rex so long. 

Suddenly, Breach straightened. “Yes. Okay then. I’ve decided that I want to show you something.”

Aware that could mean anything, his muscles and mind prepared for sudden movement, Six carefully followed Breach down a short, narrow hallway. She stopped at a trapdoor, lifted it open, and climbed down the ladder that was waiting there. Without hesitation, Six went after. 

Six’s dress shoes once again met red dirt. They were on the ground level, apparently. More notable was how the walls were solid and thick, and had been painted a soft, pastel pink. At the epicenter of the room was a low table for children and a full tea set. 

Breach sat down on one of the stools, her knees nearly pressing to her chest. She gestured to the empty plateware. “Please. Won’t you join me for a cup of tea?” 

Six raised a brow. He didn’t move.

“… It’s rude to ignore an invitation, you know.” Her words carried a slight tone of threat.

What a brat, he thought. “Only one cup,” he informed her anyway, sitting down. Being a children’s table, he must’ve looked even more ridiculous than Breach.

The teen EVO pantomimed the act of pouring him tea from her empty teapot. It was a real set, but any sign of liquid or food was woefully absent. Next, Breach ‘poured’ her own cup. “You have to raise your little finger,” she said. “Otherwise you won’t look sophisticated.” She did so herself, pretending to take a sip.

Six looked at her carefully, then looked at the room. Dolls and mannequins sat in each corner. Crude drawings were hung on the walls. Potted flowers, wilting, arranged haphazardly. Six recognized the common theme here: happy friends, happy families, all positioned to give Breach the company and interaction she needed. 

“I hope you realize I’m not another of your dolls, Breach.”

“You’re better than a doll,” she replied. “At least, Rex seems to think so. He talks about you all the time, you know. You and the others.” Breach looked expectantly down at Six’s teacup. “I want to see what he means.”

Humoring her, Six mimed out the sipping motion, absurdly grateful that Rebecca wasn’t here to witness it. “Happy?”

She stared at him with a blank expression, expectant.

Unhappily, Six raised his pinky.

Open rapture broke out onto Breach’s face. “Yes, perfect. Just like that. So you can do this after all. He was right. That means there are others out there, too. I hadn’t believed it but… .”

Six set down his cup, acutely aware that he was only privy to one half of the current conversation— if it could generously be called that— and not much else. Tired of beating around the bush, “What do you want, Breach?” 

She circled a finger around her saucer. “Some doilies would be nice, I think. But only the plain white kind. The other colors would ruin everything .” 

Six amended, “I mean, what do you want from me specifically? What do you want from Rex? From Providence?” 

The teen continued to fiddle with her tea set, expression taking on a forced blankness. “I want what I’ve always wanted. What do you think?”

“… I don’t know what to think.” Six leaned forward. “To speak plainly, I have no idea what your endgame is. We haven’t been able to catch so much as a hint of Van Kleiss since you seemingly… dealt with him. The Pack have publicly cut ties. You’ve sacrificed your freedom and your former allies in one move. Why?” 

Breach hummed, letting her head hang forward. “‘Why, why, why, he asks… You have the answer. You know you do.” The girl tensed. “Just admit it.” 

Six barely held himself back from letting out a sigh. He was saved from speaking, however, by a knock on the door above. 

“Hey, knock-knock,” called out Rex. He poked his head in upside down, surprised. “Woah. Didn’t expect to see both of you guys down here.” He adjusted his position, then slid down the ladder in one motion. The cooler was lowered to the ground. 

Pointedly, Rex met Six’s gaze. He was visibly struggling against laughter. “Wow, Six. Cozy down there?” 

The older man raised a brow. “Incredibly so. As a matter of fact, I insist that you join us.” 

Rex raised his hands in protest. “Wait, don’t ask—“

“Yes! Yes!” Breach exclaimed. She stared up at him intently. “You have to, Rex. Do it for me.” She used one of her larger hands to tug on his pant leg. “Please?” 

Shoulders hunching, cheeks red, Rex let out a distinctly pained noise. “Ugh, fine. But only for a few minutes,” he insisted. The teen dropped onto one of the remaining stools, embarrassment written into every feature.

Six pretended to take another sip of ‘tea,’ smiling into his cup. 

Despite his initial unwillingness, Rex seemed to know exactly what was expected of him. He conversed with Breach on mundane, made-up topics, pretended to eat  cookies and scones, and raised his pinkie to maintain true ‘sophistication.’ For the most part he ignored Six’s presence, as if by willing it hard enough the man would teleport elsewhere and also lose memory of this event. 

So, not the first time they’d done something like this, Six concluded, but Rex didn’t appreciate his mentor being a direct witness. It was strange what the boy considered too childish or ‘lame,’ and what he didn’t. 

In a sentiment that was perhaps out of character, Six found himself mustering an absurd fondness for the sight. Rebecca would probably consider the whole thing worthy of a scrapbook. 

This wasn’t normal, Six decided. Not for teenagers, at least. And yet no matter his embarrassment, Rex still carried on with more affection than annoyance. Breach remained eager. This was innocence on display. Untainted joy. Simple pleasure in a pastime that was both functionless and artful, which really translated into something like beauty. Despite himself, a peculiar warmth was wriggling somewhere deep in Six’s chest.

A warmth, of course, which he resolutely buried. The ex-mercenary couldn’t let his guard down. That wasn’t in his nature no matter how simple and safe things felt. Still, it was surprising that such thoughts crossed his mind at all.

While Rex entertained Breach, Six inspected the room again. He saw girlish aesthetics mixed with regression and fear, an unwellness difficult to analyze. And yet, beneath that, Six saw the little things. Loving details and decor fighting to make a space home. To make Breach feel safe. 

Wasn’t that what anyone looked for? Wasn’t that what Six wanted for Rex?

Looking at his student again, the older man thought that perhaps it’s what Rex wanted for Breach as well. The boy had a protective, caring nature, and the evidence of it stoked as much pride as it did fear some days. The danger Rex ran into for the sake of others was enough to make one think of sealing him off in bubble rap.

At certain moments, absurdly, Six wished the boy would get fed up with it all. He wished that Rex would run off for good and hide well enough that he wouldn’t be found. Six imagined him somewhere far away, severed from the madness and the trauma that came with being The Cure.

But that was only a fleeting fantasy. Six knew that Rex himself would never abide running away, that the guilt and shame would eat him alive until he either lost his memory or worse. And more personally, more selfishly, Six couldn’t imagine the Rex-shaped hole in his life ever closing up. He couldn’t imagine the toll it would take on Rebecca, or even Bobo.

The boy himself called them a family, and for all that Six hesitated to claim the title of father-figure— because for all that he loved him, he still chose the world over Rex’s well-being— Six thought it was true. He wanted to stand by Rex’s side, wanted to offer what limited guidance he could, wanted to see Rex grow into the man who would be far better and kinder than Six had ever managed. 

There weren’t truly any safe places in the world, Six often reflected. Even in high towers of privilege or within White’s nanite-free box, no space was entirely safe from the influence and corruption of the world at large. 

There were, however, safe people. Six would’ve never before qualified himself as such a person, but had stumbled upon true, wonderful, confusing connections either way. Six’s safety and peace were housed in the people he cared about; a woman of reason and heart; a boy with the world on his shoulders; an ex-partner, still a friend, still afraid; a mischievous EVO chimp who made for a poor babysitter and a worse wingman. They were all broken. They were all abnormal. And some days Six wondered if he deserved to share and occupy their intimate spaces. 

Now, staring down a dark-haired girl with possibly more baggage than Six could comprehend, he thought that maybe he did understand pieces of this situation, actually.

Breach wanted—needed— a family. For better or worse, Rex wanted to share his own. 

Six set down his reap cup with a clink . The other two immediately paused, looking at him as he rose to his feet. 

“Going so soon?” asked Breach quietly. Her bangs fell forward.

“I have work to do,” he informed her honestly. He added, “But thank you for having me.” 

Breach smiled. 

Beside her, Rex gaped. 

Six strode for the ladder. He paused just as his hand made contact with the metal. “In the spirit of returning the favor, Breach… you’re invited to dinner tonight. I hope to see you there.” 

Six didn’t look back to see their reaction, and he didn’t hear anything except some hurried whispering between them, but that was fine. Six left their strange little dollhouse, thinking perhaps that he was on his way to understanding. Maybe they all were. 

Chapter Text

In hindsight, it was a miracle this sort of thing hadn’t come up before.

At least, that was the takeaway Rex tried to hold onto later, stuck in a room arguing with White Knight, a nanite reactor primed to explode into the second apocalypse within the decade. Because, for some people apparently, the first go-around hadn’t been exciting enough. 

The worst part— well, beyond the potential death count— was that the people behind this latest reactor weren’t even tenuously connected to the original Nanite Project, or Rex’s past. At least that would’ve come with some emotional catharsis. But no, these guys were literally a horde of wannabe mad scientists, connected only through the power of the internet and the black market, who had all decided that they could build nanites too, but better . Rex seriously suspected that the only reason they’d gotten their pet project semi-operational was because somewhere along the way they’d stolen blueprints of the original reactor.

Which didn’t do much to make the current situation less stressful, exactly, except in the sense that Rex just really felt like internally pointing out how, sometimes, scientists were freaking insane idiots!

Both hands pressed flat to the nanite reactor’s center chamber, doing his best to stall the oncoming meltdown without much success, Rex twisted to glare at White Knight. “Okay, not to rush you or anything, but in case the sirens and the flashing red lights didn’t tip you off, I’m pretty sure this place is about to go kaboom. Any thoughts on an exit strategy?”

“I’m working on it!” White yelled. They were both shouting over the facility’s sirens, but somehow White managed to seem more or less like his usually contained self. Grumpy, but contained. He was in his smaller, nanite-free suit, standing over one of the computer terminals and studiously pressing buttons. “Although,” he continued. “I’d be happy to hear about any luck on your end, since you’re so chatty.” 

Rex glanced back to the reactor. He worried his lip between his teeth, shoulders burning with anxious tension. “Uh, yeah… that’s not happening so much.” He closed his eyes, concentrating as much as he could, but still there was a blockage hindering him from fully connecting. “These nanites are… weird,” the teen admitted. “I think those scientists tweaked the design, but I can’t figure out how. If I just had more time, maybe I could—“

“Forget about that!” White barked. For the first time during all of this, it seemed his inner control freak was finally bursting out. “Come over where I am,” he demanded. “If direct lines of attack aren’t working, then it seems we’ll just need to be indirect .” 

Not having a better idea and feeling freaked out by the weird nanites anyway, Rex hurried over. It was an oddly cramped fit for a lab, and as the teen shouldered past White’s larger form, he spared enough humor to find it funny that White was on the tall side, but definitely not the giant Rex had always subconsciously pictured him to be.

Both were silent as Rex touched the keyboard before them, his scope of awareness shifting. Six could scold him later, but Rex took the less-than-a-second to shut down that stupidly annoying alarm before getting to work. Unlike the nanites, this computer seemed completely normal. The hardware and software were cooperating just fine, malleable and informative. The connection to the reactor was also solid, reconfirming that it was definitely operational. Except for… wait. Rex went deeper, trying to find the pieces that would tell the nanite reactor to shut down the nanites, or halt its process, or something . Again, there was a lack, some mechanism which Rex couldn’t fully understand. 

Finally, Rex gasped back into singular awareness. He looked at White, unsure of the expression broadcasting over his own face, but resonating with the grimness staring back. “This… doesn’t look good,” the boy confessed. He glanced over at the digital countdown across the room, a large black screen with red numbers: nineteen minutes.

He looked back at White and they stared at one another for a single instant. Rex did not need to elaborate. The teen observed as the realization washed over White’s face, each line and shadow and wrinkle more visible for how it stood out on his pale face. It was a single shared moment, broken by White Knight suddenly sprinting over to the other side of the room. Without another word or glance, the older man started to slice through the metal flooring with a nifty laser mounted atop his wrist. 

Rex took a moment to register the sight. “Wha—hey!” he finally called, jogging over. “Seriously, is it too much to ask that you clue me in on your genius strategy , or whatever this is?” 

The other didn’t respond, fully occupied by his mystery task.

Rex moved closer into White’s space.“Um, hello? Earth to White? Should I phone Six?” He waved a hand in front of the older man’s face.“¿Perdiste la cabeza?”

“Communications are down,” he answered through gritted teeth. “Now buzz off while I fix this, or I’ll give you crazy.” 

Muttering a few other choice Spanish words under his breath, Rex dropped into a crouch beside him. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Would totally appreciate an update though. Seriously, anytime now.” 

In response, White Knight’s laser cut through another layer of the floor, revealing a mess of wires and mechanisms. 

Rex nearly inspected the setup himself, except just then a massive series of thumps began to emanate from the entrance that had been sealed shut. Rex whipped his head around to see something on the other side punch a gigantic dent into the door, inhuman moans and clicks audible through solid steel. 

Obviously, there was an EVO on the other side.

“Oh, awesome,” said Rex. He rose from his crouch beside White, stretching his shoulders for a confrontation. “And here I was getting kinda bored anyway.” The teen glanced down at the pale man. “Anyone ever mention that you make a terrible conversationalist?”

He scoffed. “As if I give a damn. Now do us both a favor and go deal with that thing.” Smirking, “In a way, I’m almost happy that you’ll be distracted for the next few minutes. It was either that or getting out a set of shiny keys.” 

Back in the early days those sorts of words might’ve ticked Red off, but now they seemed more like the man’s poor attempt at banter. As someone who actually possessed an ounce of charisma most days, Rex decided to be a bigger man about it. 

Approaching the giant steel doors no closer than seven feet, the young man shifted both arms into his Smack Hands. Even with an unknown, experience taught that they were usually a good bet. On the other side, the EVO continued to screech and moan, occasionally ramming against the doors. Rex spared a thought to wonder whether that living thing had mutated because of something being done in the facility, or if it was one other countless instance of random bad luck. He imagined what it looked like, the pain it might be in, the pain it could cause others, then swallowed thickly at the idea of extra, tricky nanites making his job even harder. 

Another heavy slam against the doors. They held, but more blows followed, stupidly making him jump just a little each time. On and on and on. Only slightly hysterically, a small part of Rex wondered if that described his future career prospects as a hero; never actually saving the day fully, always playing eternal catch-up against an impossible problem. It was a bad thought. Usually, Rex tried to think in more positive terms. 

In a shorter time than how it felt, the EVO quieted down and, from what could be gleaned, moved away. Except for White’s tinkering behind Rex, it became eerily silent. By the time the teen let out a breath— not exactly relieved, given the situation, but close enough— he walked back over to his teammate and looked down at an example of the older man’s on-the-fly engineering. 

“Woah,” the teen let out, eyebrows raising. It was tough to make out what it did exactly, but he thought the retooling in itself deserved some praise, the wires and metal bits adjusted into a giant… button? Sort of? A thingy of some kind. 

“I’ll take care of it from here,” White stated finally. He looked Rex in the eye, the both of them now crouched over the hole in the floor. “You just run off to Six so he can play babysitter.”

And yeah, okay, it wasn’t like Rex would ever in a million years want to hang out with White Knight over Six, but that order raised alarm bells. Condescending as it sounded, since when did White ever tell Rex to run away from danger? Or to essentially take it easy? 

It was Rex’s turn to stare him down. He crossed his arms. “You’re not telling me the full story.” It was neither a question nor very convincing because, given that Rex was renowned for his annoying stubbornness in seeking answers, it didn’t need to be

White let out a frustrated noise. He raised a hand to his head, resting on the side of his visor as if he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he gave in eventually. “You wanna know what’s going on? This whole place is going to blow no matter what we do about it. Our only potential, minuscule silver lining is that I can stay here to slow the countdown while you evacuate with the others. You need to make it outside the immediate blast radius. It’s not much, but… it’s better than being here to witness the birth of a second Abysus.”

Rex could hardly believe his ears. “Are you— what? You’re telling me that you’re actually going to…?” He shook his head. “Okay, which shapeshifter are you, and what have you done with White Knight?” 

White glared at him. “We don’t exactly have a lot of options here, Rex.” The older man tangled his hands within the mess of wires in the hole, fiddling with something Rex couldn’t see from his position. They both glanced over at the timer on the wall to see it pause mid countdown. Ten minutes. “That won’t hold it forever,” White informed him. “Which is why you need to get out of here. Now.” 

Rex combed a hand through his hair. “There has to be something else,” he muttered. “C’mon, think .” The full weight of the stakes hit Rex just then. The image of another hellish global catastrophe played out in his mind. Failing here, at this juncture, was one of Rex’s worst fears come to life. 

“There is nothing else,” White insisted. 

The teen straightened in alarm. “But wait, if I can’t even call them, how am I supposed to warn the others?!” 

“They’ll know. Holiday ran some calculations and put a timer together. They’ll get where they need to be regardless. Worry about yourself already! Meet them past the border!

Rex stared at him. He wasn’t even sure why he was stuck on this. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling, beyond overwhelming guilt at letting this happen. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you going to— I mean, how will you evacuate?”

White looked at him like he was stupid. “I won’t. Who else is going to stay here to slow this reactor down?” 

Another tremor shook the room, lights flickering. Without warning, something collapsed from the ceiling on the other side of the room. Rex hoped that hadn’t been important.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Rex couldn’t immediately think of a response. It wasn’t as if he liked White Knight on a personal level, but that didn’t mean he wanted him dead or EVO’d. And beyond that, now that they had all left Providence, now that the world seemed to be going insane with Black Knight at the helm, it felt terrifying all of a sudden to imagine their tiny group losing any more members. The idea of never dealing with White’s orders or bad attitude had always seemed like a dream. In the here and now, the close potential of it only stoked dread. 

Not even fully thinking it through, Rex lunged for the thing White Knight was holding. “You can’t!” They wrestled a moment before both found an iron grip on the device. White was looking at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was.

“I mean…” Rex swallowed. “C’mon, White, a heroic self-sacrifice? You don’t think that fits my job description better than yours?” 

White didn’t move any further to dislodge Rex, maybe because their little doodad was delicate, but glowered at him plenty. “This isn’t a game, Rex.” 

The teen sent him a challenging look. “Yeah, and? Who said I’m playing?” 

A pause. White seemed caught between absolute fury and startled confusion. “Rex, you do not understand what you’re talking about.” 

“No, how about you don’t know what you’re talking about. Where’s your pride about being the— the last sane man, or whatever it is? I thought you believed you’re some type of super important leader?” 

“As valuable as I know myself to be, need I remind you that you’re the cure? If either one of us has to go out today, unfortunately the smarter choice is me.”

Rex forced an eye roll. “Yeah, and the rest of us will really do well without your bank account to fund us.” 

“Money can be raised through other means. Besides, I’ve bequeathed all of my earnings and possessions to Six.” 

Six. There was someone who’d take this loss with difficulty. Would Six even wanted to stick around if White died? “But why even talk about this?” Rex demanded, a thousand unknown fears clawing at him from within. “Why have any casualties at all?” Rex got in his face. “As you always love to remind me, I’m an EVO , remember? I can do this! Let me do this.”

White met Rex’s challenge by also leaning closer, almost enough to butt his helmet against Rex’s face. “You’re durable,” he said. “Not invulnerable. Don’t you get that this is about choosing who lives and who dies?”

Rex felt like screaming. “You say that like I don’t get a choice. That’s how you always act!” 

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no, you don’t get a choice. The person staying behind needs… a specific set of skills.” 

“If you mean being good with tech, then yeah, I have that covered too. Come on, you know that I’m totally the better option here!”

“Rex! You’re being…” White took a breath. “Look, I don’t know what you’re angling for here, but you’re not going to get it. This war comes with sacrifices, Rex. Being a hero requires difficult choices. This isn’t something you can just punch your way out of. And whatever you think you’re feeling right now, I can guarantee that it’s nothing compared to what the others will feel if you die here. Just… make the right choice, kid.” 

“I…” 

“… And if that emotional appeal isn’t enough,” White nodded over to the counter. “Then I should mention that you’re the only one between us who could reasonably cover enough ground to escape anyway. Those machines are your saving grace.”

Rex didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything left to say. And it wasn’t as if he possessed some deathwish, either. Not really. Rex was used to giving himself up, to being used for the greater good. In certain desperate moments, giving up his life just seemed like a natural extension of that. 

But this was more than just a desire to save people, or a vague sense of duty. Rex felt angry. Afraid. The world was caving in, and White was here sitting in front of him, being an insufferable human being per the norm. A type of normal that, very soon, would be relegated solely to the past. Rex looked up, studying White’s face closely through the yellow visor, a sort of free fall sensation in his gut. 

Sometimes Rex thought he hated the man. Sometimes he imagined grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking until he either got whiplash, or had some sense shaken into him. Other times, Rex thought he almost liked the guy, moreso during the recent downtime he’d gotten to know him better. There were specific, isolated things Rex could admit respecting him for, even if there were also days when Rex felt like he was being extra patient with a mildly bigoted grandfather-figure. By this point, Rex had known and empathized with a lot of difficult and weird people in his life, and White was one of them. 

And now he was going to die.

When Rex stood up, he still didn’t have any words to say. He and White locked eyes for another instant, the older man’s expression saying something along the lines of ‘what are you waiting for?’ 

Rex shifted his feet into the Sky Slyder, hovering mid air so that—

Another tremor, the EVO from before busting through the doors , another collapsing section of the ceiling before Rex could react. Something hard hit him in the head, and he maybe managed to swipe at the EVO with his sword, a hand pulling him to the ground a moment later, sirens and lights and more wreckage that all blurred together… then black. 

———

The next thing Rex knew, he was waking up on a stiff bed. His gloves were gone— annoying, he thought— so he could feel the scratchy sheets beneath his fingertips. He blinked his eyes open, first registering the dim lighting and the sense that the layout seemed familiar. Thoughts and recollections were hazy at first, but eventually he at least concluded that this place was better than waking up in Providence’s infirmary, where the lights were blinding and the smell of antiseptic burned Rex’s nose. 

Instead, Rex thought this place felt damp and dusty, which translated a second later into the laboratory at the dam . A comforting realization, if also a very confusing one.

Someone moved beside him. Rex forced himself to look over, vision eventually focusing on Dr. Holiday’s relieved expression. 

“Doc?” mumbled Rex. He sleepily rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “What happened?” 

“There was a bit of an accident,” she admitted. They didn’t speak much more as he allowed her to run him through the standard health tests, checking his reflexes, his memory, and various basic responses. Finally, she asked. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

This far into awareness, the memory came suddenly. Rex straightened. “The nanite reactor!” He looked at Dr. Holiday. “Doc, you have to tell me, what’s going on out there? Is it… is it really bad? Or, I mean—“

“Everything’s fine, Rex. Or, well, as fine as it was before you lost consciousness. Which was only a few hours ago, for the record.” 

“… Que-what?” 

“There wasn’t any second nanite event, if that’s what you’re asking,” butted in Six. Rex jumped to face him, the older man leaning against the far wall, half obscured by shadow. 

“There wasn’t a…? Okay, wait a second, I’m missing something.” 

“Right. About that,” continued Holiday. She sighed. “To be completely honest, I’m not even sure how to describe what happened.” 

“I could have a few words for it,” Six commented. 

“Well, to summarize, the nanite reactor was a dud.”

Rex stared at her.

“Yes, I know. It wasn’t for lack of trying,” she added bitterly. “Those so-called experts did give it their best shot. However, their supposed ‘improvements’ actually made the nanites non-operational. Which would probably explain the issues you mentioned to White. I could go on, but…”

“Wait.” Rex held up a hand. “Speaking of White, what happened to him? Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” said Six.

Holiday muttered something that sounded like ‘unfortunately.’

“I thought you were both kinda cute,” piped up Bobo nearby, causing Rex to jump and also to wonder if his awareness was still lacking. 

Rex narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?” 

Bobo climbed atop the bed and leaned over Rex, brandishing a handheld device. A scrolled through his photos displaying, much to the teen’s horror, images of him and White pinned under rubble. Which for anyone else probably would’ve been a scary or worrisome slight, but for their desensitized group mostly just looked embarrassingly like they were cuddling. 

“Ugh.” Rex pushed Bobo and his device off the bed. He collapsed back onto his pillow. I can’t believe I thought I would miss that guy, he thought. 

Chapter Text

Your name is Rex. Latin for ‘king.’ It’s short and simple. Uncommon though not stupidly so, but also kind of weighty. Like there’s an expectation written into those three letters. Maybe there is. Especially when you think of where you come from and what your family is all about. When you think of what you are, as it’s been explained. 

Sometimes you repeat your name’s lonely syllable under your breath, memorizing the shape of it on your tongue, trying to glean comfort from a bare sound. It springs forth easily, naturally. Immaterial, and yet the most valuable thing you own. 

There’s a last name that goes with it, apparently. ‘Salazar.’ It tastes foreign, meaning ‘old hall’ or ‘original home.’ The name is not unwelcome, but distant. Just like the person who was introduced as your brother ‘Caesar’ nearly a month ago.

Caesar looks overwhelmingly like your reflection in the mirror, you’d thought when you met him. Except for being taller, older, and maybe just a bit weirder, you could’ve been his clone. Caesar brought sweet rolls over for his visit. You both ate outside, you sitting and him pacing, each looking over the grounds of a family ranch you don’t remember. Eventually, you got the feeling that your brother doesn’t settle down much. Caesar talked in rapidfire questions and answers, dancing among a battery of topics, intent on you but not overly upset. Like this was just a thing that happened. Like it was normal to not have any memories at seventeen, to supposedly forget the freaking apocalypse you’d personally lived through and reverted. 

“Well, I’m not sure if I’d describe it as ‘reverting’ exactly.” Caesar pointed out, mouth half full. “Nanites do still exist, you know. As a matter of fact, Providence still exists in part due to the fear that certain rogue elements may try to, well, do something with them. Honestly, I don’t find the idea of ‘preventive measures’ to be all that exciting, so I’ve mostly been doing my own thing.”

You had looked away at that, not exactly sure how to respond. Your life as it’s been told sounds like the plot of some wacky science fiction novel, or maybe a comic book. Here and there you’ve gone on the internet and seen footage of these so-called ‘EVOs,’ never able to watch for more than a few minutes at a time. More than just being nightmare-ish and gross to look at, something about their… everything never fails to spark something uneasy in you. 

You’re an EVO too, they say. Possibly one of a handful left. But no description of special superpowers, or your past love of being an alleged hero, can make that okay. You still haven’t dared to look up any footage of yourself. Always, you get halfway through typing ‘Providence’s Weapon’ into the browser, something heavy sitting in your gut, before your finger freezes over the final key. What does a weapon look like, you wonder? What does that make you? Fear settles under your skin like the nanoscopic robots that make you special. But you don’t activate them. You don’t even try. There is a bone-deep certainty, undefined and untraceable, that says there would be no going back from that.

None of those thoughts were spoken aloud to Caesar. 

He talked a bit more about the world, reassuring you that your natural ‘daring spirit’ would come back in time, even if your memories don’t. He leaned in close, but stiffly. As if reminding himself to do so. As if almost hesitant to make contact for a simple shoulder pat. 

Just from that first meeting, you could tell he was all thumbs in the matter of emotional warmth. You wonder now if that was your fault, or part of something larger. The past, or him, or anything else. 

Eventually, conversation petered off into silence. The sun shifted in the sky, insects diligently buzzing among the grass. An hour later Caesar left, patting your head as he made for the door. It’s telling, you think, that Caesar didn’t visit sooner. And that he hasn’t come around since.

———

Your first memory is less “a memory” and more a long stretch of poorly recalled impressions. You’d been surrounded by white walls, unfamiliar faces, and copious information which rarely stuck around in your head. Which had felt frustrating at the time, but was apparently normal enough for amnesiacs to not be worth freaking out over. Over a few weeks, your awareness and retention trickled back in. That didn’t make it an easy experience though. You asked a lot of questions that no one seemed to have the time or energy to answer. People rushed around like their heads were on a fire; a serious crisis mode situation. Maybe the hospital was swamped with patients? Although, the longer you stuck around, the more you felt like you were staying in a lab or a prison rather than a hospital. But, like, a sci-fi lab or prison. Or maybe just a stupidly expensive hospital?

Maybe you come from a loaded family, you’d theorized more than once, staring at the ceiling. The whiteness stared back at you. White, white, white, white. What a boring, annoyingly bland lack of color. This you’d been thinking just as the door to your room slid open, revealing possibly the pastiest man in existence. And he was wearing a freaking battle suit, of all things.

You rocketed to a sitting position, eyes wide, letting out an unintentional, “Woah.”

The amazement only mounted from there, adding when he and a few other unique individuals stepped inside. There was a mysterious guy dressed in ugly green military gear, a beautiful woman who looked like some kind of secret spy person, and an actual chimp??? The white guy and the chimp were the only ones visibly carrying weapons (is that, like, allowed in a hospital?), but something told you not to count out the other two just yet. You wondered if this was the start to a really bizarre practical joke, or if you’d simply forgotten that people were just like this. 

First and foremost though, you were intrigued by the battle suit. You pointed at him. “Dude, that thing looks awesome. Where’d you get it?” 

“… I designed it myself,” he said, stiffly. “For medical reasons.” 

He seemed hesitant to add much more than that. Well, as hesitant as a stern-seeming guy like him could be, anyway. 

Instead, the brown-haired lady took over the speaking job from there. “We’re your family, Rex,” she said eventually. While you silently boggled at that, she went through introductions and then said a lot of other important stuff that made your head spin. “You were caught up in an… incident recently,” she explained, but didn’t go into detail. 

The lack of concrete answers might’ve made you paranoid under other circumstances, but on that specific day you were mostly trying to hold back a— a— a something. It was hard to pinpoint. A scream, maybe, either out of happiness or frustration.

Because here were real people promising, in a roundabout way, that things would be okay. They’d take care of you because they loved you, which you hadn’t realized you’d been starving for until it was said. 

But, worse than that— scarier than that— you didn’t remember these people. You stared at Dr. Holiday’s face extra hard, trying to recall something, anything, about the person in front of you. If you could forget the most important people in your life, what else had you forgotten?

Dread— the sort you’d been actively ignoring since waking up— started to grow. “So, does that mean I’m still, uh…” You gestured at your own head. “I mean, is my brain okay?” 

“Your brain is fine,” the lady assured you. She went into a lot of detail about that, for some reason, using a bunch of technical terms you couldn’t really parse. Maybe the doctor part of her felt like that was safe territory. 

Guilt wriggled in your stomach like an ugly bug. This woman felt bad for you. About your whole situation. Peeking subtly at the others— their attention focused on you like moths fixated on a single point of light— they were hard to read, but…

You got the feeling that you weren’t the only one who thought this situation majorly sucked. 

“You and all of us have been… very close, for the last two years,” Dr. Holiday continued. Professional composure warred with emotion on her face. “ I… You should know that we—” she cut herself off. 

Making your own weak attempt at humor, “So, I’m guessing I was adopted?” 

Absurdly, something like relief swept through everyone at the joke, shoulders loosening and half-smiles forming (except for the weird ninja guy, but maybe his face was just stuck like that). 

“It’s nice to see ya again, Champ,” uttered Bobo the ape, shuffling closer, and woah his voice was deep. “Trust me, once you blow this joint, you an’ me have a lot of schemes to catch up on.” 

“Hopefully not,” said Six, raising a brow. 

And it was comfortable, and it was scary, and there were a lot of things to be discussed after that. For a long time, you couldn’t help but feel like everyone was hiding important information from you. Walking on eggshells. Trying to hide their emotions and pretend like you losing your memory hadn’t rocked their world. 

But you could see it on them. If not the full truth, then the fact that a truth was being hidden. You couldn’t stay bubbled up inside a private hospital forever though. You healed quickly, they explained. And then they explained why you healed so quickly in the first place. 

——

“Rex?” A female voice suddenly cuts through your thoughts, muffled by the door to your workshop. You look up as the good doctor enters, red lips stretched into an image of cautious cheer. 

Dr. Rebecca Holiday; the name has yet to conjure any deep recollections for you, but still you find yourself nursing an urge to impress her. It’s weird, ‘cause you don’t think she’s done anything to really earn that reaction (at least not that you can remember), but maybe it’s just her niceness? She’s always so worried. Not just about you, but about Six, and her sister, and really the whole world. There’s an impression of authority and brainy-ness behind her every action, so maybe that’s why you lean towards saying ‘Dr. Holiday’ over ‘Rebecca.’ 

“What’s up?” You answer, swiveling in your chair. 

“Just checking in,” Dr. Holiday hums, moving to enter. She’s dressed casually today, a peach blouse over brown pants. She apporaches and you make room so she can see what you're working on. She smiles. “Is that another model?” 

“A mech suit! Yeah…” You point to a few others you like, each in different stages of completion. “That one’s sort of like a metal spider— got the idea from movie night—  this one needs to be partially redone, can’t stand how I did the chassis and the pose, and this one… okay, so you know I’m more of a mechanical guy, but Godzilla is awesome and I really wanted to see what I could do. Do you… like them?”

Holiday goes to pick up a model that’s already finished, caressing her finger along the side. “They’re amazing. Just when I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore, Rex.” She glances back at you. “You know, the details on these really are phenomenal. You could make a career out of this.”

You’re surprised to hear her recommend such a thing. As long as you’ve known her, in between working to get you ‘settled’ at the ranch and shouldering a thousand other responsibilities, Dr. Holiday has always encouraged you to pursue higher education as something along the lines of an engineer, or a doctor, or some other brainy STEM thing. 

“You’re so much more than a weapon or a giant metal fist,” she once said. “And I know it’s something you’ve always secretly wanted, Rex.” Forgetting that, for you, there isn’t much of an ‘always.” 

You make models of things because it’s fun; there are no urgent deadlines or lives hanging in the balance. You just enjoy the way things come together under your fingers. Does that have to be a career? Should it be your career, when you're allegedly… special? 

“Rex?” Dr. Holiday repeats your name again.

You shake your head, trying to refocus. It seems like you zone out a lot these days. Maybe Old Rex did that too.

“Um, yeah?” you say finally. 

Dr. Holiday gives you a funny look. “I was asking if you could help me clean parts of the house. Beverly’s coming to visit, remember?” She casts a glance around. “And besides, as much as I’m starting to appreciate your hobby here, maybe you could use some time outside your room. Get some fresh air?” 

You drum your fingers along your desk. “Um. Yeah. That makes sense. I’ll get right on that, Doc.” 

Holiday stills for a second, face going tight. She smiles sadly, the way she always does when you remind her of Old Rex.

“I’ll be down in a sec,” you insist. This time you actually mean it. 

———

You remember when you first moved to the ranch. A big piece of property owned by your family, now apparently owned by you. A kid named Noah reached out a while back, not long after you were reintroduced to your family, and he told you the whole story of how you came into possession of it. It sounded like a wild ride. A fun one, even. Your brother didn’t want the place, Noah had explained. That just fed your curiosity.

The day you moved in, you stepped off a small yet high tech aircraft, dressed in old clothes and carrying a box of personal items that felt far too light. Old Rex must have been a light traveler, you thought. 

Wordlessly, Six had directed you from the aircraft, leading the way to the front door of the main house. Both of you plodded along a muddy road cutting through tall grass, each wearing sturdy black boots. The sky had been puffy and overcast, a side effect of visiting Mexico in the tail end of the rainy season. 

The house was a mess inside, albeit at least with visible attempts at repairs. You supposed it would have been a bit much for four teenagers to rebuild everything, according to how Noah described their trip. Still, that didn’t stop you and Six from putting up tarps and performing simple repair jobs, waiting for a “discreet” service to arrive and repair things professionally. 

“You sure know a lot of secretive people,” was what you had commented to Six about that. The two of you were settled near a fireplace with sleeping bags and non-perishable food, the overall effect feeling like what you imagined a camping trip to be. 

Six, methodically swallowing down a can of stringy collard greens (yuck) let out a mild noise of agreement, “I’m a secretive person,” he said. “But when you need a job done right, it pays to have people who understand security.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that way more expensive than just calling a handyman?”

“Yes. But in this case you get what you pay for, Rex.” He went silent for a moment, the atmosphere turning reflective. “Thankfully the man that I was never forgot the merits of being frugal. Between myself, Dr. Holiday, and White, we have enough to settle here comfortably for a while.” A scoff. “Even the chimp is pitching in…” the man trailed off in a rare moment of absent thought, before straightening up again. “Don’t worry about the cost.” 

“Uh, sure. Thanks, I guess.” You supposed that was his way of attempting to be comforting, but the words left an awkwardness in their wake. You stirred your can of baked beans, realizing abruptly that between both of you there were only a few months worth of memories, and rather one-sidedly at that. 

What did he think of you? Were you just wearing the face of a kid who’d won him over? Was Six waiting for hints of that person to come back? 

“Here.” Six’s voice cut through your inner thoughts. He was holding up his can of greens. “Have a few bites.”

Coming back to yourself, you leaned away from the can like it was hazardous. “I’ll pass, thanks.” 

“It’s good for you,” the older man insisted.  He didn’t wave the greens in front of your face like a tiny child or a dog, but he might as well have.

“Six, if you don’t want to finish your vegetables, just don’t. I’m not gonna finish them for you.” 

“Think of your body as a machine,” began Six. “The output is only as good as the fuel you put into it.” 

You pursed your lips. The warmth of the fireplace cast everything in a soft glow, dulling the edges of even Six’s harsh exterior.

You swiped the can from him. “Fine. But seriously— I eat plenty of vegetables.”

“Debatable.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at that. Questions remained in your mind, but for the time being you swallowed them down to exist in the moment. After getting through the collard greens (gag), eventually you fell asleep while Six took watch. Old habits, you guessed, feeling safer than you had for a while. 

The next day offered its own brand of eventfulness.

The so-called “discreet professionals” arrived before the sun was even up, disturbing you from sleep. Most of the morning was spent with stoic individuals telling you to stay out of the way, not at all endeared by your rampant curiosity. You didn’t even get to watch them install the security system. At least Six made up for it by being a silent micromanager over everyone’s shoulder, quietly making a few of the extra rude guys sweat.

One point you had to hand them though, the group worked quickly. By the late afternoon the house was more or less in full order, except for some cosmetic details which probably only needed a splash of paint, or a trip to the hardware store. 

Which left you and Six alone again, standing side-by-side before the front door, gazing up at the one place you would be living for the foreseeable future. The two of you had already moved most of your family’s items inside, and without a box or an object to hold, your hands felt strangely empty. 

“What do we do now?” you asked Six. 

It took him a few seconds to answer. “I’ve never had a real home before.” he admitted. “I’ve had family, but… not this.”

You blinked at him.

“For a long time,” he continued. “I didn’t even think it was something I wanted. It’s safer to never remain in one place. Safer to never get attached.”

But I’m attached now, was unsaid clearly. 

Silence took hold then, a moment too precious to interrupt, except you were starting to suspect that you were the type of guy who couldn’t handle waiting.

“So…” you began eventually. “Want to spar?” 

Six’s head snapped towards you. It was as close to surprise as you’d ever seen on him. For good reason, considering you’d turned down every offer of training or fighting since knowing the man. It always felt too much like an invitation, was the thing. Like learning how to be dangerous would invite danger. 

But you wanted to shake off that feeling. For one thing it was almost definitely superstition, and for another you were tired of always living in the shadow of someone else’s old memories. Why not make new ones?

Six stared at you. “Are you sure?”

You shrugged, still looking up at the house. “Eh, why not? Not like we have a TV or anything.” 

It didn’t answer the real question, but Six nodded anyway before walking away from the house. “Follow me,” he called back, too measured to be considered shouting.

With one last glance at your new home, you ran after him.

———

“Oof!” 

With a crunch of dead leaves you landed on the ground. Pain. You were feeling a lot of pain. But then, maybe getting the wind knocked out of you by an ex-assassin who didn’t know the meaning of ‘easy mode’ would do that. Who knew?

“Get up.”

You did not get up. As a matter of fact, you spent a good minute or so wheezing on the ground. Fresh mud was undoubtedly caked onto your back, but a few hours into this and you were far past the point of caring.

“Rex, you…” Six sighed. “Sorry. Maybe we should call it a day.” 

“Wh—no!” You forced yourself into a sitting position (ow) and gazed up at where Six was standing, immaculate in contrast to your filthy clothes.“I can do this!” you exclaimed, and moved to rise up until Six gripped you by the shoulder, pushing you back down.

“I’m not saying ‘never again,’” the older man explained. “But you need rest. And I can tell your heart’s not in this anyway.”

With a long exhale, all the remaining fight drained out of you. You slumped forward, letting Six catch you, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your face twitched with frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” you uttered. The apology spilled out like a confession. 

Awkwardly, unused to the motions, Six kneeled and rubbed at your back. “There’s nothing to apologize over. This wasn’t a life or death battle, Rex. When we fall, we get back up at the right moment. That’s how we improve.”

Your eyes started to burn without permission, not full tears but surely close enough to be noticeable. Six was kind enough to not comment, but an ugly thought spawned in your head anyway. 

You could train until you were black and blue. You could even force yourself to look inward for the powers that everyone kept telling you about. Even so, something inside said it wouldn’t matter. You were scared. Nothing on earth could take away that fear, or give you your memory back, or reshape you into the person that all of these wonderful people loved. There was no ‘improving’ from this. There never would be.

Your name was Rex. 

It’s hard to tell what that means.

———

“Doin’ some Spring cleanin’?” 

You look down at Bobo with mild surprise. You’d thought for sure that the chimp had still been gambling in Cancun but, then again, he seems to come and go as he pleases. You spot a duffel bag set down by the front door, apparently fresh off his trip. Bobo looks amused in his loudly patterned shirt, glancing between you, the feather duster in your hand, and the picture frames you’re currently cleaning. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say finally. “Beverly is coming to visit, so the Doc asked me to help out.”

“Wow. And not even a hint of complaint. Feels like I’ve seen everything now.”

Is he trying to say that you complain a lot, or that you’re a slob? Turning to him, you don’t make an effort to conceal your glare. 

Bobo raises his hands. “Hey, all I’m sayin’ is that the old you wasn’t a big fan of bein’ neat and tidy.” 

You frown, but there’s something oddly vindicating about Bobo speaking of your past self so openly. The chimp makes a clear distinction between you and Old Rex, and for better or worse it feels like acknowledgment. You go back to dusting. For some reason, Bobo hangs around. You ignore him until your eyes land on a photo of yourself. Or, not yourself. It’s Old Rex running away from a huge bull. 

“Hey, Bobo?” you begin, because you’re feeling a dangerous mix of bold and reflective. “Is it weird having me around even though I don’t remember you?”

The chimp doesn’t hesitate. “Yes and no. Sure, I miss the guy who knew about some of my best heists back in the day, or the toppings I like best on pizza, but…” he shrugs. “What can ya do? At the end of it all I’d say I still have my buddy, at least. You humans get too caught up over useless information. Who cares if you remember knowin’ me three months or three decades? As a chimp, I won’t even be around all that long.” 

He moves to the side, taking a seat on the nearby couch and nonchalantly combing through his fur. “Besides, you seem like the same dumb kid to me. I figure if Van Kleiss or some other nutjob crashed through that wall right now, you’d still get involved. The idiotic hero attitude runs in your blood. Get it?” 

Oddly enough, maybe you do. You smile and go back to dusting. “Yeah. Thanks, Bobo.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And hey, you missed a spot.” 

———

“Wow… you guys made meatloaf. Again.” Beverly’s tone is partly joking and mostly serious. Which is fair. Meatloaf seems to be the go-to staple in this household. 

“What, it’s a family meal,” defends Bobo. He throws his apron over a dining chair moodily, muttering, “Kid’s got no appreciation for the culinary arts.” 

“Don’t mind him,” says Holiday, pulling out her seat at the table next to Beverly. “Over time, I think we’ve all come to think of it as a ‘family meal.’”

You and Six trade a glance. “We have?” 

“Oh. That’s right. I… guess it makes sense you don’t remember. Either of you.” Holiday smiles apologetically. “You know what though? All the more reason to start experimenting in the kitchen. Now that Providence doesn’t have me on-call anymore, I suppose I’ll have the extra time, right?”

Beverly, taking a drink at the time, nearly chokes on her water. She coughs. “I—I mean, you sure?”

Holiday playfully swats at her. “My cooking is not that bad. I’m serious, I’ve improved over the years, that’s—“ she turns to you. “Rex, tell her I’ve improved.” 

“Uhhh…. I plead the fifth?” 

Beverly practically cackles. 

The conversation then devolves into her and Dr. Holiday trading banter before they segway into talking about various adventures of their youth. It’s mostly goofy stuff, stories about hair caught in bubblegum and puking on long car rides, but you can’t imagine asking to hear anything different. This, you think, is normal.

Unfortunately, that’s when the conversation begins to touch on more sensitive topics. 

“So, Rex,” Beverly begins, only slightly forced. “Sorry I haven’t called much, by the way. I wanted to check in, but between the recovery program at the hospital, and Becky hogging the phone,” she gives her sister a pointed glance. “I could barely find the time.”

“‘Hospital?’” you repeat.

“Beverly has been staying at a specialized facility since she was cured,” Six explains. 

“It’s normal for a lot of cured humans to have… difficulties adjusting,” Dr. Holiday says, half informative to you, and half comforting towards her sister. “I know we’ve already talked about it, but… leaving you there really was one of the most difficult choices I’ve made in the last seven years.”

“I get it,” says Beverly, poking a fork at her meal. “Honestly, looking back, I don’t think I was in good enough shape to be going on the run with you guys anyway. I wanted to try and act like I was normal, but even going to that concert with Rex was pushing it.” 

“We went to a concert?” you ask.

Beverly stares at you. “Yeah? It was barely… um.” She flushes in realization, which in turn makes you want to sink beneath the table. Pursing her lips, Beverly points her fork at you. “Okay, remind me to show you some music later. Pretty sure it’ll be, like, the foundation of our friendship.” 

You nod, skeptical but curious.

“But anyway,” continues Beverly. “I wasn’t doing great. Mentally, I mean. There aren’t a lot of memories of being an EVO, just flashes, but…” She trails off, and the table experiences a solid fifteen seconds of silence. 

“Ah.” Six eventually says. Visibly struggling to seem soft, “ My condolences.”

The teen shrugs. “It’s fine. Not like it’s a huge secret or anything. I guess it’s just weird. I’m still the same person, you know? But it’s like all this time has passed, and the year is different, and Rebecca’s a full on adult-adult now, but I’m still a teenager. Only now there are times when my brain thinks it’s supposed to be in a body with, like, extra eyes and creepy bug parts.” 

A weighted pause. She takes a sip of water, and the table once again goes quiet. Dr. Holiday is staring earnestly at her sister now, lips pulled in a taut line, like there are a thousand words ready to pop out of her mouth but she’s forcing herself not to say them. 

Without a word, Bobo excuses himself to the kitchen, his chair sliding with a ‘screech.’ 

You and Six share a loaded look. Unfortunately, the older man looks even more out of his depth than you are. 

Yikes, you think. Seems like Cesar isn’t the only person who could use How to Talk About Feelings 101.

“But, um…” Beverly turns to you again. “So like, when are you thinking of getting back into the hero thing? Not gonna lie, I’m actually super jealous I never got to see you in action.” 

“Uhhh…” Words of value refuse to manifest. You swallow a lump in your throat, blood rushing to your face. You should have an answer by now, right? Not just for Beverly, but for everyone. You should know what to say. 

“He’s undecided,” Six volunteers finally.

“Which there’s nothing wrong with,” Dr. Holiday rushes to add. “I mean, you are a teenager, Rex. Indecision about the future is practically a rite of passage.”

You hum in agreement, but secretly find that to be rich coming from Rebecca ‘I started sending letters to NASA at age five’ Holiday, seated not far from Six who, so far as you’ve pieced together, traded in his childhood innocence for a katana at the age of Way-Too-Freaking-Young. It’s easy to feel like you’re not where you should be when, in many respects, you’re basically starting from square A. 

“Oh,” says Beverly, visibly awkward. “Um. That’s cool. I mean, I guess you’ve earned the vacation, right? That’s…um.”

“Hey!” Bobo— having returned with a tray of puddings— slaps his hands down on the table. “I’m tired a’ lettin’ all you humans hog the airspace; who here wants to hear a real story about my time in Cancun? Any takers?” 

“… Can’t be any more eventful than the time I went there,” comments Six, poking at his meal. 

Bobo smirks. “Challenge accepted.” With that, the chimp dives into detailing his latest adventure, all of it outlandish and rife with mischief. 

You do your best to focus on his words and not the ball of guilt churning away in your gut. A hero. That’s what everyone wants you to be. Sometimes, that’s what you wish you could be, if only to meet expectations and to no longer have to consider what you really want. 

Eventually, you notice that Beverly is trying to lock eyes with you across the table. You keep your head turned, focused on Bobo’s gesticulations.

———

It’s quiet outside the house. You’re sitting on the front steps, insects and creatures chirping in the cool air, a game console turning in your hands. You’re not actually playing it. It’s just an object currently giving your fingers something to do. 

The creak of the front door echoes loudly behind you. A sliver of warm light, and Beverly steps outside. She closes the door after her, then moves to sit on the steps, a careful few feet of distance away. 

You almost roll your eyes. “I’m not gonna bite, you know.” You wiggle your fingers mockingly. “I’m not one of those rabid EVOs.” 

Beverly actually does roll her eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. I used to be a ‘rabid EVO,’ remember?” She sighs. “Look, I just came out to apologize. I’m sorry for my question earlier. I guess I should’ve remembered that you’re…” 

“A totally useless blank slate? A crappy, low-fat substitute for a better person?”

“I was going to say ‘having a tough time,’” finishes Beverly, horrified. “Is that what you really think?” 

You don’t answer right away, focusing instead on the console in your hands. You shrug. 

“Rex. That is, like, actual crazy talk. You know we all love you, right?”

A scoff. “You love someone I used to be. Some… perfect superhero guy. You can’t seriously tell me that’s not the case— don’t you wish your actual friend was here? Like… the real Rex?” 

Beverly raises a brow. “‘Real?’ Pretty sure I’m not talking to a ghost or something, dude.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, and what you mean is stupid. And like, of course no one is happy that you lost your memories, Rex, but… your memories aren’t you.”

You raise a brow, channeling skepticism. 

Beverly lifts her palms up. “Don’t look at me like that— brains are complicated! People are complicated. So you’ve changed a lot compared to how you were before— Big. Deal. Everyone changes throughout their whole freaking lives. You think Rebecca is the same as how I remember her? She’s…” Beverly’s voice loses steam. She looks aside and confesses, “Not even close….” A sigh. “I’m not even who I used to be.” 

You grip your game tighter. Suddenly hearing another person’s grief knocks the wind out of you. 

Returning to her point, Beverly waves her hand. “Everybody changes, Rex. Your changes are just… more drastic and sudden than most.” 

Wow, that’s reductive. You find yourself suddenly angry. “That’s kind of missing the point, Bev.” You glare into the horizon so she can’t see your face. “I get that people grow up and move on— or, sometimes, experience really bad stuff, and maybe that changes them. But that’s normal. At least most people have— context. They know where they come from and why they do things and…and…” The horizon is starting to look blurry all of a sudden. “… I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be.” 

Long silence. A warm hand comes to rest on your back. “I’m pretty sure you’re just supposed to be Rex. And, if it makes you feel any better… I don’t think any version of you has ever been perfect, dude.” Beverly nods her head towards the house. “Maybe you should ask someone about stuff like that. Seriously, Becky told me you used to be some sort of delinquent gang leader, or something.”

You blink. What?

Beverly continues, still leaning close. “You think that makes a difference to her? Or Six? Or anyone else who actually, genuinely cares about you? You don’t have to be a superhero, man. You could even be a violent, huge, butt-ugly spider EVO. As long as you’re Rex?” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

Okay. That was more than a bit sappy, but… it gives you some perspective too. The words aren’t a total fix, but they still help to loosen a vice that’s been clenching something inside you. It makes you feel just a little lighter, somehow.

You turn away from the horizon and face Beverly. Her hand is still on your back, but she’s looking away, almost bashful in the wake of her assurances. ‘Thanks’ seems more than a bit awkward, but you mumble it under your breath anyway, and she moves her hand away in understanding. You look back at the house, warm light peeking through the windows. At this moment, sitting in the dark, you can’t think of any visual more inviting and safe. 

You exhale a puff of air. “There’s some ice cream in the fridge. Want to…?” 

Beverly jumps up. “Ohmygosh—yes.” She skips over to the door. “No offense to Bobo, but meatloaf is not my thing.” 

She slips into the lit kitchen, and you follow inside right behind her. You mull over what you’re thinking, and then admit, “Honestly? Same.”

Maybe that’s something worth mentioning to the others. Maybe it’s a small thing on a list of other things you should mention. Maybe, one day, you really will get used to all your… changes. Either way, you know a few things for sure: 

Your name is Rex. Your family loves all versions of Rex, apparently. And you’re not the only one who’s trying to grapple with loss. You watch Beverly as she rifles through the freezer, and can’t imagine her not making it through the other side of all this. You think of the others, and imagine rest, and healing, and other good things for them too.

Why not yourself?