Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Saudade (n.) A deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent.

—————

Debbie knew better than to expect Nolan to return to her. Any remnants of thought that contributed to the contrary were only foolish delusions spurred on by the memory of how he felt in her arms. So strong, so determined. And here she was- so weak and so foolish. 

She couldn’t stop wondering what she should have done, what more she could have said- how she could stop someone like him.

A Viltrumite.

A hero.

No- a murderer.

Omni-man.

Her husband.  

She allowed herself these spare moments of selfishness as the world collapsed around her, as she learned that everything she had ever known about their relationship had been a lie. It hurt her worse that Mark must be experiencing a more exponential amount of pain, triple-fold to whatever pathetic squaller she found herself in right now. And what could she do? What could any mere mortal do? How could she comfort her son when she herself lacked comfort?

That night when they finally returned home, after all those days of Mark being nursed back to health in the GDA’s care, it was as if Debbie remembered that Nolan was actually gone. 

The hole next to the stairs had been patched, but the color was slightly off. Any blood that had remained after Nolan’s rampage had been cleaned by Cecil’s people. But Deborah knew where the blood used to be along with the bullet holes that had littered the living room and kitchen. The ghosts of the battle replayed in her mind- how Nolan ripped those people to shreds in their own house. Her house, now. 

And how Cecil let her watch it all.

If either of you need anything else, you know how to reach me. 

That’s what Cecil had said when he dropped her and Mark off at home after…everything. When she made her excuses to Mark to be alone, she hadn’t realized how awful it felt to get what she wished for. To be alone. Without him. 

While she understood why Cecil had let her watch in that GDA control room, part of her wished she hadn’t. For Cecil to make up some flimsy excuse on why she couldn't see, something she would instantly see through and call bullshit on. He’d say something like Nolan really was controlled and that he had some sort of brainworm or spell or blackmail. He would grimace and she would insult him, but at least she would be without this hole . 

As much as she despised Cecil, at least he had a purpose right now- to clean up the colossal mess that her husband had left. Or…the thought was too painful- but she thought it anyway - was he her ex-husband now? She definitely would never take him back. 

And that realization more than anything else- that thought that they would never be the same- is what made her almost collapse into herself, staining the sheets she wrapped around herself that she couldn’t help but think smelled like them. It was a pain she had never expected to feel. And now, wrapped in betrayal like a cocoon closing her in, she allowed herself to weep. To cry. To scream and wail once Mark managed to leave the house after he left with his friends.

If either of you need anything else, you know how to reach me. 

Well, Debbie had no idea what Mark needed, but she knew desperately what she did. 

Did she even have the strength?

—————

Debbie hadn’t worked in days, and she knew she had to get up eventually. Mark brought her food and asked her if she was alright, told her he loved her, and then the pain was back with such a carnal ferocity at her son’s kindness that it threatened to drive her crazy. It was this guilt of staying in bed while he shouldered on that finally made her wrench back to the land of the living. 

“Thank you,” she managed to croak, grabbing the Burger Mart bag with a strength she didn’t know she had. Her hunger was the least she could give her son. Let him believe that strength is returning. 

“You’re…you’re welcome,” Mark trailed off, concerned eyes leaving her face to take in the bedroom. His dad’s slippers next to the bed, Nolan’s laptop charging on the bedside table, a glass of water half full. Mark swallowed. 

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” Debbie managed, “That’s my job with you, not the other way around.” 

The sentiment was close to humor, but the truth rang true. Debbie had been failing on that front for a long time. 

“No, Mom, it’s the least I can do.” 

Debbie bit her lip from saying ‘But you already do so much’. What was the point, with the world on his shoulders?

Who on earth could understand what it was like to stand by while the more powerful soared past, sprinting hopelessly to catch up? The answer came to her like a lightning bolt. 

If either of you need anything else, you know how to reach me. 

Cecil. 

Cecil knew. 

Cecil knew a million times over, especially now, as he no doubt was going all across the globe to put the places Nolan destroyed back together.

“Mark,” Debbie began, “Has Cecil talked to you recently?” 

Please, she prayed to herself, let my boy rest. At least for a little while. 

“Nope,” Mark replied, his attention back to her and not the absence of his father. “Guess he’s finally giving me some space.” She didn’t miss the way his shoulder’s tensed. 

“Why do you sound disappointed?”

“Just…I wish I could be doing more.”

Debbie looked up from her fries. “Mark, you're going to school and doing the best you can. That's enough.”

He shook his head, “No Mom, it's different. You wouldn't understand.” 

This conversation was becoming too familiar, and she was quick to shut it down. 

“I understand the best I can. And right now, I appreciate you staying away from the hero stuff for a bit. You need the time off.”

He grimaced, and Debbie watched as her son's hand tightened into a fist. 

“While more people die because of my mistakes?” 

“No, no- what happened with your dad wasn't your fault, do you understand me?” Debbie was sure to put some authority into her words, forcing Mark to look at her. “It wasn't either of our faults.” 

It was like she needed to tell that to herself as well as him. Could she have convinced Nolan to tell her the truth, when he hadn't for twenty years? Could she have convinced Cecil to take quicker action, maybe work to find a weakness in the Omni-Man armor she didn't even know existed?

“I killed so many people, Mom,” Mark's breath came out shaky. “And I need to make it right.” 

“Your father killed those people Mark!” Debbie's eyes brimmed with tears as she reached up to grasp his shoulders. “Not you.”

She saw his mouth quiver, looking away. She cupped her hand to his cheek. “Please, for me, just…listen to Cecil. He's giving you space for a reason. Wait until you're ready.”

Finally, with an internal sigh of relief, he nodded.

“Good.” And it was. Good for Mark. He needed it, as much as his sense of responsibility rebelled against the idea.

But was space what she needed? Did she need any more time alone in this stupid bedroom that smelled like Nolan? 

—————

She regretted calling the instant it started ringing. It only took two cycles for Cecil to pick up. 

“Debbie,” Cecil said in greeting, his simple tone hiding his surprise well. Debbie knew he would be taken aback by her call, even with his offer of help. She never hid her hatred for him and the GDA. 

She looked out into the backyard from her spot in the kitchen, leaning against the island. Her hand prickled in remembrance of the slap she had given him weeks before. Debbie wondered if it was too late to apologize. 

“Am I bothering you?” Debbie asked, watching as a hummingbird went to drink from her empty feeder. She would have to remind herself to refill it later.

“What do you need?” Cecil questioned in response, dodging the question.

Damn, she was so foolish. She pulled the phone away from her ear, watching as her phone screen lit up and she contemplated hitting the end call button. How could she need anything from him when the rest of the world already needed him?

It was selfish of her to call.

“I shouldn’t have called,” She breathed, moving her shoulder upward so that it could hold the phone to her ear as she reached for the wine cabinet. 

It was only because her ear was so close to the phone that she was able to pick up on Cecil’s soft sigh. “Debbie, it’s alright. What can I do for you?”

He must have heard the soft clink of the bottle connecting with the countertop and the squeak of a cabinet opening. “It’s stupid.”

Cecil let the silence permeate for a couple of seconds, forcing Deborah to speak, “I’m just ready to talk with someone about all this…the house is driving me crazy.”

“Is something wrong with it?” Cecil asked, and Debbie shook her head before realizing he couldn’t see it.

“No, it’s perfect. Just back to the way it was.” She didn’t feel it productive to mention the off-color patch on the wall next to the stairs. She also didn’t feel it productive to mention to Cecil that the first thing he thought of was the practical, not the emotional. 

“If you want to talk we have people at the GDA-” Cecil began but was quickly interrupted.

“I don’t want your people.” Debbie shot back, placing her glass next to the wine bottle before turning to rummage for the bottle opener. 

“Of course, Debbie.”

The way he repeated her name sounded like a strange sort of incantation to calm down a wild animal. It made her feel pathetic. 

Debbie listened as she heard the clicking of Cecil’s boots against tile. He was in GDA headquarters.“...What do you want then?” That question came out slow, but the next was clipped. “Why did you call? I can’t help if you can’t tell me that.”

That’s something she always hated about Cecil. Always so analytical, methodical, calculated. It’s always a one plus one equals two situation. He always seems to forget that humans don’t think like he does.

Strangely, it’s something that he and Nolan have in common. 

“When do you think you’ll be done with work today? I don’t want to keep you on the phone for long.” The question was so mundane and so simple, but it also held a promise. She wanted to talk to him later.

She heard a tongue click on the other end as Cecil mulled over the question. “Uh, right now I don’t really know. We have clean-up crews across the country right now, and with Donald gone… ” He let himself trail off. “How about this, I’ll text you, yeah? I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.” Debbie managed. Not like she couldn’t wait. 

“Later tonight,” Cecil clarified.

Debbie glanced at the clock above the stove, realizing with a jolt that she had taken out a bottle of wine like clockwork at three in the afternoon. Mark would be home from school soon. 

“O-of course. I didn’t expect you to…” His job was important, probably the most important on Earth. Deborah didn’t expect him to drop everything just because she needed to see a familiar face- especially one she couldn’t call a friend. 

“I know. It’s fine…I’ll see you later. And don’t worry, I’ll knock this time.” Cecil hung up. 

—————

Debbie asked Mark to pick up a pizza on his way home from school. Regular pizza nearby and not from France. They managed to eat it together without bursting into tears, finding neutral things to talk about like the housing market or college. It was still hard. Everything was hard now without Nolan. It was easy for him to tell her he was going to bed, easy to distance himself from his mother’s pain. She couldn’t blame him. After their confrontation about his responsibilities, they continued to be tense. When she heard the familiar sound of Mark soaring out his bedroom window, she tried not to feel hurt. 

She couldn’t ignore how her heart skipped a fragile beat when her phone vibrated on the island counter and she saw Cecil’s name: I can be there now. Just got out. 

She waited a couple of minutes, nursing her wine that was progressively running out. Debbie didn’t want to answer immediately. Didn’t want to seem desperate. She wasn’t drunk- not yet anyway. Best not to be severely intoxicated when she expected Cecil Stedman at her front door.

Debbie finally picked up her phone: Come on over.

The soft knock of Cecil’s knuckles hitting wood came a second later. Debbie got up from her chair in the kitchen, wine glass in hand. When she opened the door Cecil tore his eyes away from the ground to look into her eyes, pupils flickering briefly to her glass. 

She always found that strange with him. Cecil always seemed to work up the courage to look at her. 

“Hello Debbie,” Cecil greeted. 

“Cecil,” Debbie responded, stepping back to allow him inside. “How was your day?”

Cecil stopped walking into the living room, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. His silent accusation was clear: When have you ever cared?

Debbie sighed, “Humor me.” 

“I was in Chicago, helping out there.” Of course, he wouldn’t offer specifics. “It’s uh… a lot to handle.”

Chicago. Right. Where Nolan killed hundreds in his senseless rampage. Cecil must have seen Debbie’s mouth tighten because he was quick to offer up a change in conversation. 

He scratched the back of his head, “What do you need me for, Debbie? Something come up with Mark?”

“No, nothing like that.” She closed the door and sat herself down on the couch. 

Cecil took the chair by the front window, hands clasped in front of her in attention. She hated when he looked like that- like she was another task to be completed, one more thing he could check off his massive list. Mouth set in what seemed a perpetual grimace and blue eyes striking into her soul, sometimes just being in his presence felt exhausting. Too bad his intimidation didn’t work on her. 

“I was just thinking that you’re probably the only one other than Mark who….gets it.” She finally let out, watching him as his eyes immediately cast onto the floor again. 

What is he so afraid of?

“Are you sure you don’t want a therapist from my staff? We have people who…get it.” 

“I already said I didn’t want your people Cecil- and don’t act like they’d really understand like we do. Like you do. They’d just say some shit about the stages of grief and how crippling the responsibility and guilt of being Omni-man’s wife must be.” She couldn’t disguise the venom as it poured out, “I don’t want their fucking pity.”

Cecil’s eyes shot up, “I’m sure they wouldn’t be like that. They’re trained in…well, never mind. I understand.”

“Do you?” Debbie fired back, so full of vitriol it made her grip on her glass tighten. 

“Like you said, I’m probably one of the only people on planet Earth who does.”

A flood of embarrassment swept through her body. She talked of responsibility and guilt but was staring down the head of the Global Defense Agency. And he hadn’t done such a great job at defense lately. 

For a second she wondered what it was like to be Atlas, holding the weight of the world.

That brief moment of stepping into his shoes was vile, like smelling outdated milk. She saw what it was like every day, how he put her husband and son on the line for everyone else. 

Another pang as she realized her outdated thinking.

She had to stop that- Nolan wasn’t her husband anymore. In a single day, she had stopped being a wife and had barely remained a mother. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” She said suddenly, getting to her feet so she wouldn’t have to think about how close Mark had come to death at Nolan’s hand.

“You know what- yeah.” Cecil’s sharp lines softened just a bit.

“Pick your poison.”

“Whiskey- neat.”

“No ice?”

“I drink it too fast to matter,” Cecil confessed. 

Debbie couldn’t stop herself as a soft laugh slipped past her lips. “I would never pin you down as a drinker, Cecil.”

She padded over to the kitchen as Cecil responded, “I haven’t been for a long time,” Debbie could practically feel his exhaustion, the lack of rest in his position, “But this is a good occasion as any.”

“Oh, I’m so flattered.” 

“You should be,” Cecil joked, shifting his weight as Debbie turned around with a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler. “I don’t loosen my tie for anybody.”

Debbie tried not to think too much about why the bottle was half full or the person who drunk it last. “Yeah, I thank god the director of the GDA can grace me with a drink.”

“I’m glad you realize the importance of my time,” Cecil confirmed, but the tone was lighter than it probably had ever been with them. 

Debbie poured the usual two fingers and let the open bottle on the counter, walking back to hand it over to Cecil. His back straightened as she handed the glass to him, and he wrapped his long fingers over the tumbler, giving Debbie the quirk of a smile. 

“You know Debbie,” Cecil began as she sat back down, “When you called me earlier…I..uh, I just want to say that you don’t have to worry about things like that. Calling me. I don’t mind.”

Debbie was in the middle of a sip of her own drink so she only caught his eyes through the warped glass. She lowered it, and his icey blues only met hers for one paralyzing moment before he separated himself from her attention, looking over at the shelves by the television. Even though his tone was flat, she couldn’t ignore the sudden spike of vulnerability. It could almost be mistaken as kindness if she didn’t know any better. 

“I don’t understand you,” Debbie blurted suddenly, “You should mind.”

“No-” Cecil interrupted, but it was soft and slightly gravely in the way that only Cecil could do, “It’s alright. It’s the least I can do, to be there for you…and your family.”

The last part of the sentence was tacked on in a way that made her feel confused. Cecil downed his whiskey in one go, shaking his head slightly to push past the flavor and force out whatever was next. “I’m sorry, Debbie.”

She knew it was coming, Cecil’s weak apology, but it didn’t make her feel any better. 

“It’s fine.” It was easy to slip into that lie, so familiar to people saying “good” when people ask how their day has been when it’s been certifiably shit. 

“It’s not. I should have done more.” He clasps the glass in his hands like it’s an anchor, his face tense, “You’re right to hate me, Debbie. Honestly, I hope you do. It makes you better. But don’t lie.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He flinched and nodded, “I know.”

Debbie didn’t understand why he was doing this. Was this an attempt at comforting her? Because it wasn’t very effective.

“Look,” Cecil continued, “How about we make a deal? I promise I’ll be more honest with you…at least be honest as much as I can without revealing classified shit, and you be honest with why you wanted me to come over tonight.”

Debbie took a deep breath and drank the rest of her glass. She set it down on the coffee table before speaking, “You always think everything can be solved, like if I tell you I’m depressed you’ll come behind me, flip open the hatch on the back of my head, and turn off the part of me that feels pain. What if…what if I just wanted you to be here?”

Debbie saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed at his swallow, but she continued. “What if there’s no quick answer on how to fix me?”

Cecil was lightning fast with his answer, “There never is- Jesus Debbie, if you want to think about the longest fixer-upper in history you're looking at him.” 

Debbie just rolled her eyes. She didn’t expect this to be a suffering contest. “Yeah? Well, I’m sure your salary helps with a lot of that.”

“Didn’t help my marriage, that’s for sure.” Cecil refuted, getting up out of his chair to refill his glass. 

That made Debbie still, not bothering to turn around to look at him as he left her vision. “Oh, I didn’t even know you were married.”

Cecil scoffed, “I suppose that was part of the problem.” This time, he poured himself more than two fingers worth. “When I became director, she became classified. We never went out, I never talked about her, our whole relationship was a secret. And I guess,” He had crossed back into Debbie’s view now, sitting on the couch instead, “It wasn’t what she wanted.”

“How long have you been divorced?”

Cecil stared at the ceiling as he casually put his arm over the back of the couch, “About five years now, but who's counting?”

Debbie pursed her lips, “Sorry Cecil, I just thought…”

“Oh yeah, I know. Who would love a guy like me, right? It’s understandable.”

“No,” Debbie interrupted, “I just thought all you cared about was work.”

Cecil chuckled into his glass, and she didn’t miss how his eyes flickered over her face and stayed there, “Unfortunately I care quite a lot.”

Chapter Text

Inveterate (adj.) Stubbornly established by habit

—————

“Unfortunately, I care quite a lot.”  

Unfortunately?

As he stalked into the Pentagon the next morning, that line couldn’t leave his mind. They had talked for a good hour after that, and Debbie had even suggested they watch the latest Nationals game after Cecil mentioned he didn’t get to catch it live. The craziest part about the whole interaction is that it looked like Debbie actually enjoyed his company. But then he had to say something stupid or blunt or self-loathing and then they’d be back to square one.  

Goddammit Cecil, why do you have to be like this?   

They continued to drink while they watched the baseball game, probably more than either of them should have. Thankfully, as the night progressed and they both became more buzzed, neither seemed to care that Debbie hated him. 

While Cecil didn’t endorse Debbie’s alcoholic behavior as of late, he was thankful for the respite to just…appreciate their time together. He nodded to the doorman who buzzed him in.

I can’t be thinking like this- it’s selfish and stupid. 

And he just had to bring up his marriage, didn’t he? Only Donald and his lawyer knew about the separation, and he had always made damn sure to keep it that way- until Debbie. Until he had this urge to make her believe he was a genuine person, which was basically fighting an uphill battle. It was never going to happen, not when he was constantly sending her son into harm's way.

But he tried, and- fuck, he hated that he tried. He shouldn’t- it was counterproductive. The director of the GDA didn’t have the luxury of interpersonal relationships. That was a lesson well learned when Sharon decided to leave…and he let her go, because what was the point? Now his ex-wife was off living a better life with a husband who could give her the attention she deserved and Cecil was stuck sacrificing everything he had for everyone else but himself. 

His boots clacked against the white tile as everyone gave him a wide berth on his way to the control room. An assistant to fill in for Donald before he could be fully reconstructed handed Cecil a tablet detailing the reports he had asked for the day previous. Grimacing down at the words, Cecil took in the various statistics and reports detailing the progress of reconstruction throughout the world. Not the first time and certainly not the last, Cecil cursed Omni-man and every Viltrimite in the universe.

“What’s Invincible’s status?” Cecil asked, breaching the main control room. 

“High school right now, sir, but we heard him pack his suit into his bookbag this morning.” 

One more thing he had to worry about- Debbie’s son who was just like her and couldn’t let something go. Always anticipating the next offensive. While he generally liked people willing to anticipate and prepare for the next disaster, with someone like Mark it just gave him a headache. Cecil didn’t need another trigger-happy Viltrimite on his hands. 

“Guardians of the Globe?” Cecil questioned, looking up from his status report concerning the ReAnimen to see the screens flicker to the mountain headquarters. 

“Training.”

Cecil grimaced. It wasn’t going well by the looks of it. He thought that after he took over the GDA from Director Radcliffe, he could be better in every way. When he stopped the human experimentation that created Eve, he never expected that he would pass on the mantle to D.A. Sinclair. His only comfort was that the ReAnimen were already dead. But that was still the least of his problems. 

With Omni-man gone and Invincible on sabbatical, Cecil realized the gap that he left with the Guardians. Earth had never been this vulnerable. By extension, he had never been this vulnerable. 

Maybe that’s why he’d been thinking of Debbie so often. 

Swiping his finger across the screen, Cecil watched as scientists and doctors continued to patch Immortal back together. Everything needed time right now. Mark needed time to come back down to earth after his father wrecked the planet, and every defense that Cecil relied on was severely flawed or was currently being put back together.

“I’ll be in my office.” He exited the control room, thoughts swimming with options. Cecil had all the money in the world, but he certainly didn’t have the time or the people. Wooden-looking doors sliding open, Cecil sighed as his boots finally hit the carpet of his office, warm light halting the sterile environment outside his walls. He hadn’t stepped inside in weeks, always teleporting to locations around the world or being moored in the control room by some threat or another. His back ached, his head throbbed from a hangover, and he could barely think straight. His frustration could bleed into work, and that could damage lives. He collapsed into his chair, tossing the tablet onto the wooden surface before digging into his pocket for his phone and setting it face-down next to the tablet. Jesus, maybe he just needed to go out. 

The thought entered his head before he could stop it- Maybe I could ask Debbie on a date.

Damn, when was the last time that Cecil Stedman, director of the GDA, even went on a date? No, with everything Debbie has going on, a date would be insensitive. Maybe just ask her out for drinks. No strings attached. A drink between friends. But they weren't friends - were they? Cecil tapped his fingers nervously on his desk. 

The last time he went out on a date had to be with Sharon during the marriage, surely. Well, now that he thought about it, maybe not. Maybe during the dating phase. After his promotion, keeping his relationship intact was the least of Cecil’s concerns. 

When he first met Sharon, they both worked at the Pentagon. Back then life seemed so much simpler. But now? Now everything was a balancing act, and he was dangerously on the precipice. 

The magnitude of the realization that he had no one to rely on right now was becoming constricting. Overbearing. Inescapable. 

Talking to Debbie last night was a needed outlet. Around her, he felt the pressure on his chest alleviate just a bit. 

But he knew where he stood with her and her opinions regarding his position. She wasn’t someone who could listen to him bemoan the loss of his soul without spitting in his face for it. Her quips last night were evidence of that. The only reason she developed any sort of sympathy for him was because he got vulnerable and made a promise he knew he was more than likely to break. 

He had promised her he’d be honest, but it was impossible with the thoughts that flooded his mind- thoughts of her. 

More than that, Cecil knew that he didn’t want to talk too deeply with her because she was dealing with her own can of worms. Just because he was familiar with grief didn’t mean that she wanted or needed his help. Sure, she had asked for him to come over, but that was only one night, and she was clearly in a moment of weakness. A weakness she might already be regretting. 

So no date, no drinks, no friendship. When she texts or calls he’ll respond in as short as possible. Refer her to a specialist- again. 

He definitely can’t go back to her house again drinking whiskey, bemoaning his divorce, and watching the latest baseball game like they had any hint of comfortable familiarity. 

Suddenly - a ping. A glance over at his facedown phone; the edges surrounded by the familiar glow of a notification.

A glimmer of some confusing feeling.

Before he could stop himself, Cecil had reached across his desk and turned his phone over. 

Thanks for coming over last night, read Debbie’s text, it helped. 

His response was just as unstoppable: My pleasure.

Keeping himself away from her was going to be harder than he thought. Frustrated, Cecil reached over to the keyboard at his desk and woke his computer up. He hungrily delved into his work, temporarily drowning out the thoughts of Debbie and letting his mind fill with the mountains of labor ahead of him. For once, he was a bit thankful that saving the world was a never-ending job. 

—————

“He’s stable sir, we’ll be waking him up shortly,” the scientist reported, glancing down at her tablet before rushing to meet her coworkers. 

They had moved Donald into a hospital room a half hour earlier, removing him from the metal slab he had been on while they connected the metal exoskeleton to his brain and then the skin to the exoskeleton. 

This was the thirty-ninth time the GDA had put Donald back together like a fucked up Humpty Dumpty, and Cecil hoped this would be the last time they would have to do this fake hospital schtick. He was tired of sitting at Donald’s bedside to go through the lie that supplanted the gap in Donald’s memory. He was also tired of having to justify the chunk carved out of the GDA’s budget to the government, but it wasn’t like the Pentagon would pass its yearly audit anytime soon. 

Cecil supposed it was a sick kind of blessing how Omni-man’s body protected what little they had of Donald. Another sick blessing was how his people were able to get to the wreckage, scoop up what was left of Donald’s head which was covered in debris and extract his brain. While Cecil clearly didn’t ask for Omni-man to kill the original Guardians of the Globe and go on a murder rampage with his own son in tow once he was discovered, Cecil was secretly glad he didn’t take everything. 

Donald was an invaluable asset- an investment that could never be properly articulated. His position as Cecil’s right hand was imperative. Donald was more than a loyal soldier: he was Cecil’s confidant, his person when times got tough. Cecil didn’t need a yes man- he needed Donald.

The scientists set up the heart monitor and the fake IV bag to make it believable when Donald woke up. One of them briefly nodded, “He'll be conscious in five minutes.” 

Slowly, just as Cecil had watched every other time, Donald’s chest started to rise and fall with simulated breaths as unneeded oxygen inhaled through his nose, into his plastic lungs, and out through his reconstructed mouth. The heart monitor began to beep haphazardly before mellowing out as his fake heart jumpstarted. Cecil knew if he reached out to touch Donald’s hand, as he had done many times before, he would feel the way his cold lifeless skin slowly began to warm. 

When Donald awoke, Cecil was looking out the window; watching the grass flit in the wind from his chair in the corner. “Cecil?” Donald croaked, shifting slightly in the medical bed, a slight creak in the frame. “What happened?”

So many times, the same old question. “What do you remember?”

Donald sat up in bed, surveying his surroundings with a squint as he struggled to see without his glasses. It had been difficult to argue to the scientists why he had to make Donald’s vision worse when it could be perfect, but Cecil valued Donald not knowing his current cyborg state. Cecil reached forward and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, holding them out for Donald to take while he spoke.

“I remember observing Nolan with the strike team,” Even after all this time, Donald still took care not to call it spying, “When he came through the wall. I managed to get the others out but…”

Donald reached up to lightly touch his own chest after putting on his glasses, as if he was feeling phantom pain from the way Nolan had grabbed his spine. 

And now for the explanation. The lie.

“Sir, I set off the detonator. How am I alive?”

“You got lucky, real lucky. Omni-Man’s body protected you from most of the blast. Knocked you out instantly, obviously. Some pretty gnarly wounds, but you know the doctors we have…” Cecil trailed off as Donald sat up, pulling out the IV and peeling off the electrodes that informed the heart monitor. Donald looked down at his body, inspecting it for scars that weren’t there. 

“I can’t believe…” Donald mumbled, “I was sure that was it.”

“I would never let that happen to you,” Cecil snapped before he could stop himself. Donald turned his gaze in Cecil’s direction, the air suddenly thick. “You’re the best man I got.” 

That’s it. Make it impersonal- for the job. 

Donald cleared his throat, seeming to look around for his clothes. 

Cecil reached down from under his chair and retrieved a set of clothes. A simple collared white shirt, jeans, underwear, and a pair of brown dress shoes with the socks stuffed in.  With how many times he had Donald replaced, Cecil knew his sizes by heart. He handed them to Donald without comment.

“Thank you, sir,” Donald replied. 

“Take your time. You can come back to work when you’re ready.”

He would be back the next day. Donald always had a quick recovery, and he was like him- never away from work for too long. 

Donald gripped the clothes tightly, “What happened after the explosion? After Nolan tried to kill me?”

Cecil didn’t like how Donald kept calling Omni-Man Nolan. It humanized him in a way he wasn’t comfortable with, like the man who took so many innocent lives was the same man Cecil understood to be a friend. 

Cecil raked a hand along his head, feeling his bald spot before his fingers connected with thin white hair. For a moment, Cecil was at a loss for words to explain everything that Donald didn’t know and everything Omni-man had done. 

“We gave him everything we had,” Cecil admitted, his shoulders seeming to collapse under an invisible weight, “The Hammer only gave him a fucking nosebleed. ” 

It was something Cecil was still upset about. Donald grimaced. He knew how much that satellite had cost the GDA. 

“Sent a couple ReAnimen, the Kaiju we had on ice, Immortal… none of it mattered much,” Cecil scratched the back of his neck as the memory he retraced dozens of times resurfaced, “He went after the boy. Mark.”

Donald’s eyes widened, expecting the worst, “No.”

Cecil raised a hand, assuaging his worries, “Don’t worry, he’s alive.”

Cecil held off the “barely”; he thought it wouldn’t be beneficial to mention just how close Mark was to death, both for his sympathy for the kid and what it meant for the safety of the planet. Donald let out the faintest of sighs and Cecil’s arms erupted in goosebumps. He knew this room was too cold. 

Cecil elaborated, “Omni-man went on a rampage trying to convince him to join his ‘destiny’ of world domination. Mark wouldn’t do it. Got beat up pretty bad. He just got back to school a week or so now.” 

Donald’s expression turned blank as Cecil explained. He only wanted to give Donald the cliff notes, nothing he couldn’t look up later. 

“Killed a couple hundred throughout the country. Chicago got the worst of it.” 

Something moved in Cecil’s peripheral vision; an employee with a tablet clutched in their hands makes brief eye contact with him. Damn, he can never get a fucking moment’s peace. Cecil stands, taking another glance out the window as two sparrows soar together, twisting and diving after each other. One flew out of view with the other landing on a tree branch, looking up after the other. 

“I’ll catch you up on the rest once you’re back. For now, rest up. Need you at your fullest.”

Cecil got up from his chair, heading toward the assistant. 

“What about Debbie? How’s she?”

Cecil turned to look back at Donald from his position near the door. He resisted the urge to tell the guttural truth, to tell Donald just how broken she was to run to him for comfort. To tell him about how she heard Nolan call her a damn pet and how it crushed her , something that made Cecil’s eyes glaze over with fury when he thought about it too deeply. His hands felt uncomfortable where they hung at his sides, and he stuck them awkwardly in his pockets. He was vitally aware of the employee at the door frame. Donald looked upset, mouth tilted downward and that crease between his eyebrows that showed he was worried. Whatever he was reading from Cecil’s expression wasn’t good. 

“It’s a work in progress,” Cecil managed, and nodded to the girl who shoved the tablet into his hands. He didn’t stay for Donald to psychoanalyze the weakness he had for her, the one Donald knew full well about, shutting the door with a soft click before reading the document.

A report on Immortal’s status.

Well, from one resurrection to the next.

—————

Cecil was about to leave the GDA for the night when he decided to check Debbie’s location. Uncomfortable guilt wormed through his system as he pulled up her profile at his desk, where her last known location was logged and timestamped. The guilt wasn’t any association with wrongdoing concerning tracking without her consent: Cecil learned early on that if you didn’t follow people’s every move that that’s how people got killed. You couldn’t protect what you didn’t know about. No, his comfortability originated in his promise- that stupid promise that he made to her. It was like invincible chains that wrapped around him, forcing him to be honest . 

Ugh, honesty. Like honesty ever did him any good. But it did help Debbie see him- didn’t it? Maybe these small truths were enough to humanize him, to break down the first wall that he truly wanted the best for her well-being. 

But his care for her, or anyone, was an oxymoron- always was. She knew he would do whatever he had to to protect the earth, and personal feelings couldn’t come between that. She saw it everyday with Mark and how Cecil constantly sent him out to protect the world. Sure, he was on a break, but Mark would come back and Cecil knew he wanted to- and who was he to stop him?

He told her about his marriage, his divorce. Gave her a critical piece of information on why he would always be a massive failure of a human being- why he had to stay away. 

And yet-

Here he was, staring down at her location, ready to teleport to Debbie that very moment when he realized where she was; what she must be feeling. 

Cecil wanted to stop that pain, cork it up before it could spew free, but he also knew he was the proponent of that pain, the instigator, even the root cause. 

What good could he do if he was there, staring down Nolan’s grave with her? None, that was for damn sure. Appearing at that cemetery would only cause trouble and incite a fight he didn’t want to have. 

He had put in the coordinates to the graveyard before he could doubt himself any further, felt the familiar electric thrill of his atoms dissolving and condensing in another location. 

He made sure not to appear right behind her- didn’t want to scare. Cecil’s gaze swept over the headstones, eyeing her white sedan at the edge of the cemetery. It was hastily parked, skewed, like she had practically ran out of her car or simply didn’t give a damn. Wind swept through the trees and loose leaves floated lazily down, interrupting the sunset. 

Cecil stepped toward her, noticed the flowers she clutched tightly in her hands, how her shoulders tensed when he got close.

He tried not to think about how Debbie recognized his footsteps. Then again, he knew he would recognize her steps anywhere.

Still, she let him advance, not turning around to notice his presence or offer a greeting. That, he knew, was more than he could ask for. 

He couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice, the tiredness that seeped into his bones at the sight of her beating herself up like this, dragging herself out to her dead husband’s grave. “What are you doing here, Debbie?”

Omni-man might still be alive, but Nolan? No, Nolan was definitely dead.

Debbie didn’t even look Cecil’s way as she slowly dropped to her knees. She leaned forward, dutifully putting her bouquet into the two stone vases on either side. Cecil watched her, hands in his pockets, as she adjusted and plucked and preened over the flowers. She finally stood up, dusted herself off, and turned to him. 

“Putting on appearances, I guess.”

Cecil felt his mouth tighten, the pressure applied to his teeth as he frowned. He withheld his urge to call her out on her bullshit; how he knows the real reason she’s here- because she still loves the man she thought Nolan was.

“Isn’t that why this is here,” Debbie continues, a hand wave to the grave behind her, “Appearances? The benefit of others?”

Cecil shrugged, reeling himself back. “It’s customary. Protocol.”

“Oh, how often are deaths faked at the GDA?” Debbie questioned, her bite returning. 

“More often than you think,” Cecil replied vaguely, giving her just enough honesty to stop further questions.

That uncomfortable silence permeated again- silence that Cecil is all too familiar with. So was that look she was giving- the slightly raised eyebrow of analysis as she tried to pick him apart. 

“It’s uh, it’s alright, that you do. Visit, I mean. I’ve come out here once or twice,” Cecil admitted, and watched as her umber eyes widened slightly. “Mostly because I hope he’s actually dead out there. One less problem for me to worry about.”

Debbie grimaced, her expression turned cold. Probably the wrong thing to say. Cecil is surprised when she actually nods and her expression falls to one of resignation. 

“I checked Nolan’s post box today,” she admitted quietly, so soft that Cecil almost has to lean in or step forward, “He’s been getting fan mail. People finding out he died…thanking him.” 

She cards through her hair, tucking the loose strands blown apart by the wind behind her ear before continuing, “None of us ever really knew him, did we? Not his readers, not you, not my son…and not me.”

Cecil’s commentary concerning marrying an alien from another galaxy was the last thing Debbie needed, especially after his first quip, so he stayed silent. Not like he had anything to say about intimately knowing people anyway. But he tried, just like she did. 

“You said you would be more truthful with me, Cecil-”

There it is, what he had been waiting for-

“Why did you really make this? This empty tombstone…an empty box?”

“It’s what you and Mark need, Debbie.”

“It’s a waste of a grave plot,” Debbie argued, latching onto something, anything, using Cecil as a goddamn punching bag like she always did to work out her issues.

And he was secretly glad for it.

“But you’re still here,” Cecil graveled, “So it has to be worth something.”

“And why are you here, Cecil?” She questioned, ready to strike.

I came to protect you. 

That was the last thing he wanted to say, to show, to feel. He knew Debbie didn’t want his protection, and she certainly didn’t want his pity. 

“I wanted to ask you to dinner,” Cecil said suddenly, breaking his vow earlier like it was nothing. His fingers clenched nervously in his pockets. 

Anything to get her away from the pit she was steadily sinking herself into. 

Her lips parted in surprise, and Cecil couldn’t help it as his eyes flickered down, taking her in to assuage the feelings he didn’t care or want to interpret. 

“Alright then,” Debbie said, “Ask me.”

Her eyes, again. Always so stoic. He wondered what she saw in his own. 

“Debbie,” he started, shifting his stance from one leg to the other, “Would you like to go to dinner…with me?”

They stared at each other for a beat too long, and then she nodded. She crumpled up the plastic wrapper for the flowers and walked back to her car, expecting Cecil to follow. 

And he did, for her. 

Chapter Text

Limerence (n.) A state of involuntary obsession with another person. Different from lust or love in that it is based on the uncertainty that the person you desire also desires you.

—————

Debbie didn’t comment as she clicked her car keys and Cecil climbed inside. His eyes flicked across the clean surfaces of her white sedan- impeccable without a speck of crumbs. Without flaw. 

It made perfect sense.

She wordlessly dipped into the driver's seat once she made her way around, tossing the plastic from the flowers into the backseat and connecting her phone to the radio. The radio immediately picked up mid-song from her phone, blasting Adele into the silence. 

“Don’t forget me, I beg/ I remember what you said/ Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead…”

Cecil tried to not to think too much about her song choice as she backed up and pulled away from the cemetery, heading who-knows-where…Imagining her blasting this particular ballad, hands clenched on the wheel, a bundle of flowers where he was currently sitting as she drove to deposit an offering for a man considered dead. It was something he definitely wasn’t thinking about. 

Debbie reached towards the radio and a few quick taps, changing the mood entirely. Cecil tried not to smirk as Frank Sinatra filled the space, the sounds of a jazz band expanding around them.

“Hope you didn’t change the music on my behalf,” Cecil said, breaking the tense silence. 

“‘Course not, what makes you think so? Because Frank Sinatra’s old?” Debbie shot back, turning onto the interstate.

“Hey,” Cecil began, ready to rebuttal. 

“What? I didn’t say anything wrong. You get the senior discounts, don’t you? Twenty percent off at the zoo and all that?” 

Cecil glanced over at Debbie just as she did, and their eyes briefly met before her attention was back on the road. “Just didn’t think it was like you to make assumptions.”

“…but I’m right,” She affirmed, exactly like he expected, so sure of herself.

“….Everyone likes Frank Sinatra. I don’t think that contributes to your argument.”

Cecil almost missed the exhale Debbie let out through her nostrils.

He tried not to think about Debbie's comment about his age. Cecil's hands, which rested casually on his legs, tensed at the thought. 

He was never attractive, even when he was young, but he definitely had less hair than back then which was a combination of too much stress and the constantly ticking clock that inched steadily forward. He's blatantly aware of how lanky he is, how sharp cheekbones accentuate his sunken cheeks that lead to his acid scarring- an intentional reminder of his mistakes. 

It was stupid to think anyone , including Debbie, would see him as other than a hard-boiled director. Debbie had always looked at him with thinly veiled contempt, and it was idiotic to think that a dinner invitation that he brought up when she was vulnerable would tip the scales towards his direction. 

Cecil drummed his fingers against his leg as he let the self-loathing wash over him. Debbie was just being cordial- humoring him. 

Maybe she thought that if he liked her enough that he would reconsider his position about Mark, which he definitely was not. Sure he felt regrets, but that teenage dirtbag was the best shot he had at protecting the planet and he wasn’t going to let him get away. 

Her viewpoint was so small, so pure. The only thing that mattered to her was her family, and it would have been admirable if it wasn’t so goddamn naive. 

Unfortunately for Cecil, he had shed the small picture years ago, back when he was locked in a jail cell after committing murder and determined to survive by any means necessary. 

It was useless to try to convince Debbie to understand his perspective because it meant shedding her humanity and looking at the world through variables and statistics. He couldn’t do that to her and he never wanted to try.

But for right now- maybe it was nice to pretend like none of that existed. 

“Just you wait, age comes for us all,” Cecil mused, only realizing once it was coming out how absolutely ominous the sentiment sounded.

“Oh, I’m very aware. I see it in Mark everyday. He grows older right in front of me, and then I look down at my hands and notice yet another wrinkle that wasn’t there before.”

Cecil glanced over at her to see her expression at admitting yet another vulnerability, but she was too busy making a turn to notice his pointed gaze. 

“Part of life.” Cecil shrugged, “Nothing wrong with it. Your hair changes color, and sure, you get wrinkly, but you’re still in there. That doesn’t change.”

“You’re telling me you’re still the same person you were twenty, thirty years ago.”

“Well, in some ways, yes. Nature versus nurture and all that.” 

“How?” Debbie questioned.

“How what?”

“How are you the same from twenty years ago?”

Cecil thought about it for a bit and watched her take another turn before responding, “Well, I was still working at the GDA then, albeit in a different position.” Just a field agent at the time, before he met his ex-wife in records. 

That’s about where the similarities ended. No part of his original skin remained, most of it melted off as he clung to keep toxic gas from leaking into the seaside town he was supposed to protect. 

His philosophy had definitely changed. Cecil couldn’t remember the last time he looked at the world with hope. Couldn’t recall a time when he analyzed a situation and just believed that everything would work out- that humanity was inherently good and steadily improving. 

Now, the only thing Cecil believed in was protecting the little pockets of good that were left- and doing anything necessary to achieve that purpose. 

“What about you? How are you the same?” Cecil asked, hoping Debbie respected the incredibly obvious way he dodged the depth of her question.

“Well, I still believe that housing is a human right.”

Cecil scoffed, “Wouldn’t that destroy your business? If everyone was just given housing?”

“I wouldn’t mind that much.” She had turned again, the roads getting smaller as they drove into the city. The sun had started to set, and street lights began to flicker on.

“People deserve to live in safety- and especially in uncertain times they deserve a roof over their head that they can depend on. Just because I’m in real estate doesn’t mean I salivate over homelessness.”

Cecil couldn’t argue with that, especially since he knew how much money it took to solve homelessness in America and how many times he had blown through that in the name of human protection. There was so much Cecil had the capacity to do- but arguing politics is where he drew the line. Getting in front of congress to argue for housing was as much of an impossibility as getting the funding to build another Hammer, not even taking into account the fact that congress didn’t even know that he existed. 

“Plus,” Debbie continued, “Even if it’s a bit contradictory, I tell myself that I’m in this business to survive, just like anyone else. There are other people in positions of power that could make a bigger difference in the world than I ever could.”

Like himself. 

Ouch.  

“I just run the Global Defense Agency, Debbie, not the Global Humanitarian Agency.” 

“Right.” Her affirmation was cold and final. It said, Keep telling yourself that. There’s always more you can do.

Well, ain’t that the truth.

“One thing you said is true, though,” Cecil points out, “Once you get older, life becomes full of contradictions. You learn exactly what you’re willing to sacrifice if it means you and the people around you are okay.”

Debbie laughs quietly. “You got me there.”

He always thought him and Debbie held stark differences. Lines that they simply couldn’t bend. Oil and water, whiskey and wine. But hearing her admit they had the faintest thing in common- it made it all worth it. 

“So where are you taking me?”

“Why do you say that like it’s against your will? You invited me to dinner- I’m just making the executive decision of where we eat.”

Cecil raised his hands in surrender, “Didn’t mean it like that, why do you always-,” she shot him a look, and he playfully scoffed, “I just meant that I’m looking forward to the surprise.”

Debbie seemed to take his quarter-apology. “It’s nothing special. Even though I assume that your salary is in the seven digits-”

Oh, if only you knew-

“-You seem like the type that subsists off of greasy BM burgers.”

“You’ve read me like a book. What gave it away, my stunning physique?”

“You said it, not me,” Debbie replied, a warm lilt on her words and a tilted smile on her lips. “But actually, we’re getting Italian. I get it all the time when..”

She drifted off, but Cecil picked up on it immediately. Whatever the rest of the sentence was, it was prior to Cecil’s confrontation with Nolan, prior to Chicago, prior to the man she knew leaving the Earth…hopefully forever. 

He can still remember what he said to Omni-man, back when he was still hoping for an explanation, back before he shut himself down from the idea of ever feeling betrayed. Cecil questioned him- begged him- to tell him why he killed the Guardians.

And when that failed, back then Cecil did the next best thing.

What about Debbie, huh? Doesn’t she deserve an answer?”  

Goosebumps erupted across his skin as his eyes followed Nolan’s ascent into the air, his feet lifting as if pulled by some invisible movie cord. 

“Don’t say her name,” Nolan threatened, tone even. 

Cecil had thick skin but even then he felt the wave of disgust ripple through him, “Why not? You hurt her, not me. She and I have that in common now.” 

He knew that she was watching in the control room, holding her breath. Cecil hoped that she understood what he was trying to do, how much he wanted to make Nolan understand the gravity of his situation. That he had an out- that Nolan could confess, fall on his knees, and relinquish all. 

Get back to the best woman on the planet.

Cecil saw Nolan’s eyes widen, and he pushed,“I’m a good liar, a very good liar. But you? You’re better. You fooled her…”

Cecil let himself be brought back to reality as they pulled into the parking lot. 

Though he knew it meant something different for Nolan at the time, Cecil was partially talking to himself with those words, even back then. 

Telling himself that there’s no way he could ever hide himself from a woman like Debbie. 

Hell, he knew he was screwed from the moment he laid eyes on her. 

—————

Cecil had just become Director after Radcliffe retired. He hadn’t met Sharon in person yet, but had read enough reports from records to know that she was thorough and kept her department in check. Nolan Grayson, or at least that’s what he insisted Cecil call him, had only been on Earth for a few months. Not enough to trust completely, especially considering his flimsy “protector of the planet” bullshit from their first encounter, but enough that Cecil let him know when the kaiju of the hour came to wreak havoc. 

If he claimed to be their protector, then Cecil was determined to make him show it. If anything, Cecil would be able to determine just how strong he was to develop countermeasures. 

Cecil heard the handle turn of his office door. “Sir,” Donald reported as a greeting, here to give the daily report.

Cecil didn’t look up from his computer, hands flying across the keyboard. 

Donald continued on, “We’ve secured the grant for Research and Development to proceed with the teleportation research. It’s just an initial sum for right now, but the Pentagon promised more once we get results. The scientists are already working on it.”

Cecil nodded, clicking send on his message to the President before looking up. Donald was by his side, putting the newest stack of papers on his desk. 

“I’ve reached out to Art like you asked. He said he’d start working on some prototypes for a suit immediately.”

“Good,” Cecil replied, taking the first page of the paperwork and scanning the contents, “Nolan needs to look like the rest of the Guardians or the people will always consider him an alien. Maybe we can do something with his new nickname…what was it again?”

“Omni-Man, sir.” 

“Right, right. Not sure how I like it, but, well, if the shoe fits…” Cecil trailed off, spreading the rest of the documents out across his desk so that he could look at them in totality. It was a level of disorganization that made Donald’s eyebrow twitch, but Cecil knew he would never say anything to him directly. 

Donald’s want to be loyal always superseded his thoughts concerning Cecil’s choices. 

“Speaking of…Omni-Man..” Donald said it slowly like he was trying to name on for size, “He’s seemed to have found a more…permanent place to stay.”

“Stop speaking cryptically, Donald. What do you mean? Didn’t we fix him up with that apartment downtown?”

“Well, yes sir, we did. But he hasn’t gone back in a week, so we checked up on him.” Donald rounded the desk and opened up the tracking program while he was speaking.

“Isn’t that normal? He can travel anywhere he wants. I don’t mind where he sleeps as long as we can follow.”

“Well, yes, but you wanted me to alert you if we noticed anything unusual.” Donald turned the monitor so that it faced Cecil more, using the mouse to scroll onto his target.

The security cameras of an apartment building zoomed in onto Nolan knocking lightly on a door, waiting, then being beckoned inside. The angle didn’t catch the other person’s face, but it was clear by Nolan’s duffle bag that he was staying the night. 

“Seems he’s made a friend,” Cecil observed, “Who’s on the lease for that apartment?”

“A woman named Deborah Oh,” Donald reported back. Cecil wasn’t at all surprised at his level of digging before approaching him about this new development. “Would you like me to set a marker for you on the tracker?”

“Yeah,” Cecil was already turning back to his mountain of paperwork, “Let’s watch them. If Nolan has a potential weakness, I want to know about it.”

That’s all there was to it, at the start. A stray hand, a security camera, and lease documentation was all that tied Cecil to Debbie initially. She was a potential liability for Earth’s best defender. 

It was later that Cecil found out about their burgeoning relationship, when he caught the first glimpse of who would eventually be called Deborah Grayson. 

Cecil had seen her in the security cameras dozens of times by the time he met her in person, how one quick smile before Nolan rushed off to deal with another global emergency made him sweep her off her feet into a dazzling kiss before he shot into the sky towards his newest target. 

Keeping tabs on Deborah was a requirement- a way to make sure whether Omni-Man would do what he was told. Cecil would never threaten a protector of earth regarding a civilian, it simply wasn’t his style, but he would remind Nolan if his attachments ever became a problem which harmed his duty. 

It was only later that Cecil realized he may have inadvertently caused problems for his future self by poking Nolan’s Viltrumite bear- that reminding him that attachments could harm Omni-Man’s ability to protect the Earth could have a secret double meaning. 

Regardless, the first time that Cecil really met Debbie proved his point- superheroes having relationships only led to more problems. 

—————

“Alright, we’re here! My favorite, so if you don’t like this I’ll take it as a personal attack,” Debbie declared, cutting the ignition and stepping out of her white sedan. She had tried to keep the tone light up until this point, trying her best to alleviate the pressure on her chest from visiting Nolan’s fake grave. 

Debbie felt stupid and even foolish for doing so- she knew it was an empty box, a waste of taxpayer dollars on a mahogany casket. Despite it all, putting flowers on his grave had helped somewhat. 

When Cecil had arrived, it was a kind of catharsis to bite at him. He seemed to realize it, taking the verbal punches she threw at him with grace. It set her on edge, alarm bells flaring that this was a flight situation and not a fight one.

“I’ve never felt such extreme pressure,” Cecil intoned, shutting the car door respectfully. He sped up his pace slightly to make it to the door before her, the neon sign of Liliana’s bathing them both in red. “After you.”

When Cecil asked her to dinner, some part of her knew she should take it as a surprise. Any man in his position, head of the Global Defense Agency, wouldn’t entertain the wallowings of a not-even-widow. It was a simple and well known fact that he had better things to do. But somehow, these past couple days he can come to support her without fail. Debbie wasn’t dumb- she had caught a couple of his furtive glances, how his words were laced with an indescribable emotion. Cecil had always been self-deprecating, always taking her anger with grace, but now he was vulnerable. 

He had revealed more about himself these past few weeks than she had ever known. Debbie still didn’t know what to make of it, but she was determined to find out. 

She rolled her eyes but entered the restaurant, Cecil following diligently behind her, not too close. Debbie didn’t even have to say a thing as the hostess grabbed two menus and escorted them to a table for two in the corner. She liked this place because it was cozy- a hole in the wall that you had to squint to find in the city. The dinner rush was never a rush, tables of patrons spread out enough that any person dining had an island to themselves.

Debbie’s heart skipped a beat but quickly recovered as they were led to a soft corner near the back- this was her regular table. Nolan usually sat by the seat against the wall. He always said he wanted to face the door at all times in case there was trouble. 

She had to stop acting like this one day. She knew she couldn’t break down every time she thought of her ex-husband. 

But somehow, despite all odds, despite everything that Nolan had done, she still felt a stab of guilt as Cecil took that same chair. 

They managed small talk as a waitress came, took their drinks and entree orders. Cecil ordered a coke, and Debbie ordered her usual wine order. 

“Don’t make me drink alone,” Debbie urged, the waitress waiting patiently.

Cecil shrugged, turning to the waitress, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

“Oh?” Debbie asked after the waitress had left, “No whiskey this time?”

“I thought I’d humor you. Don’t read into it.” His teasing tone held pieces of subtle playfulness, his eyes raising slightly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Debbie wondered the last time that Cecil had been out like this, when he allowed himself the time to sit down and eat with another person. 

Since she was never the person who softened her words around him, she blurted out the question, “When’s the last time you ate out with someone?”

Debbie noticed the way his jaw worked, pondering the question before replying, “Do business dinners count?”

Debbie’s eyes narrowed in a “Is that really a question?” way, and Cecil exhaled in soft laughter. “I guess it had to be before we signed the divorce papers…when I was still trying to make it work somehow.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up-” 

Cecil was already waving away the protest, “No, it’s fine, so maybe six years?” He huffed to himself, speaking the upcoming words at the table like he could pretend no one was on the opposite side, “Pathetic, isn’t it? I can’t even remember where we went.”

Debbie pursed her lips, unsure of how to respond.

In so many ways Cecil was able to show his strength- his ability to lead and put his personal feelings aside. She disagreed with him, of course she did, but she couldn’t argue that what he did took some amount of courage. Going toe to toe with a Viltrimite and living to tell the tale had to account for something. 

But here he was- weak before her. Revealing another part of himself for some unexplained purpose. 

He knew the two of them were in a stalemate that could never be reconciled, but somehow he was still willing to drink, watch baseball games, and be her verbal punching bag. 

She realized with a confused pang that she felt sorry for him.

The waitress was back with their glasses, cutting off another apology from Debbie. Cecil gingerly picked up the glass, swirling the contents before giving it a sniff. 

He was the first to speak again, “It’s good though, to talk about it I mean.”

“What happened?” Debbie asked quietly, her curiosity overwhelming her urge to push past the subject. 

“Same thing that happens in a lot of relationships,” He took a sip, pausing slightly as if he was debating whether to get a beer or not, and continued, “Just grew distant. Told her from the start how the job was, and she was okay with it back then. She knew some of it, since we met at the GDA together. We lasted for a long time just coasting by, living our separate lives but in the same house…if I even managed to make it home. I tried to tell her about my life and what she was getting into, but…who was I to turn down a shot at something good for once?”

Cecil put the glass back on the table, shifting in his seat, “I guess I always knew it wouldn’t last ‘till death do you part.’ Don’t blame her at all- if she was unhappy she was unhappy. Nothing I can do about it other than make the transition easier for her.”

“You didn’t even fight?” Debbie blurted, unsure of how to wrap her brain around the situation. As much as she hated Nolan and what he did to Mark and the world, she couldn’t deny that their marriage had been filled with unending passion. Highs and lows. 

She will always remember the night after she took the suit to Art, the undeniable truth of the murder of the Guardians staring her right in the face. It was like a gunshot wound through the chest. 

And when she finally confronted Nolan, screaming in his face to tell her the truth, that had been passion too, only of a different kind. 

She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of it just…fizzling out.

“What could I have done?” Cecil questioned, and he didn’t even sound sad. Resigned. “Think about it from my shoes. I couldn't retire then and I definitely can't now. There’s no one I can think of to take my place, and it’s not like we’ll be wiggling out how to make clones from the Mauler Twins anytime soon that actually remember who's the original.”

Debbie laughed softly at the possibility of there being multiple Cecils, “More than one of you on this planet? Sounds like a nightmare.”

Cecil stopped his diatribe, momentarily stunned from his self-deprecating language. “Yeah, I agree. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.” 

Debbie rolled her eyes and his eyes crinkled at his own humor. 

“I think that just aged me five years,” Debbie groaned.

“Good,” Cecil shot back, “Maybe you’ll catch up to me then.”

Debbie found herself watching him intently, looking for the way his mouth quirked into a sly smile, and always on the side of his face that wasn’t etched with scaring. She wanted to ask how he got it and why it was only there, but somehow probing that deep felt too…intimate. His past marriage seemed like fair ground since he had surrendered the initial information willingly, but poking at this aspect of his appearance was an inch too far for Debbie to tread just yet. 

“Seriously though, Debbie, it’s fine. We still keep in touch..”

“Oh? You don’t track her? I guess I have the special pleasure.” The barb was quick, leaving Debbie’s lips with a silent snap. Somehow, despite the inherent curl of the words, they landed nicer than she expected. Maybe the alcohol and the nostalgic atmosphere was softening her tone. 

Cecil didn’t rise to the occasion, only raising a slight eyebrow as if to say “Comes with the territory of your son being half-Vultrumite.”

Thankfully, he held his tongue. Maybe he was turning soft too. 

“Yeah.” Cecil grinned, “You do.”

—————

Nolan’s arm had a bite taken out of it and was hanging on by a thread by the time he took the sea serpent down. It took a while for Cecil's team to get from DC to Turks and Caicos, but they managed to get back to GDA headquarters around three AM the next morning. 

Debbie was already there; barred at the door by the bodyguards and arguing with them for clearance- she'd seen the fight on the news before Cecil told them to cut the feed.

Cecil had expected to give her a call once Nolan was patched up to give her a good first impression of the agency. She would rush into Nolan’s arms, at that point fully regenerated with all the Global Defense Agency bells and whistles, and Nolan would give a glowing review. Cecil would walk in, shake her hand, and act like he hadn't been watching her through security cameras for months.

He definitely didn't expect her to be here when she wasn't even supposed to know where to find him. 

Overall, it wasn't a great first look. 

She was still arguing with the staff when Cecil jogged up, Donald behind him. 

“It’s alright, I'll take it from here,” Cecil breathed,  ordering calmness into his own breath despite the hammering of his heart. 

“She doesn't have any clearance sir,” Donald argued over his shoulder. “She needs to wait outside.” 

Cecil shot him a fake glare, “Well, get her clearance. Nolan’s been injured and she deserves to see him.” 

They had planned this bit, arguing with each other. Letting Deborah see that Cecil was willing to ignore protocol for her benefit. Make her thankful. 

Debbie straightened when the security guards disabled the turnstile, allowing her through. Readjusting the overnight bag on her shoulder, her eyes fell on Cecil. 

“You must be Cecil.” Her eyes were hard and shaking slightly with stress. 

Cecil extended a hand for her to shake, thinking about all the times he had seen her on the cameras. Although he couldn’t see her expression, Cecil could pinpoint the way her body lightened and fell into Nolan’s strong arms. 

Donald had compiled the clips- every walk in the park, every date by the water, every flight logged. 

Cecil had missed this critical part in that data- the anxiety of Omni-man’s work. The parts of him that affected her that she didn't want him to see. She hid it from her boyfriend, of course she did. Probably didn’t want to seem like one more weak little human. 

Once that door to her apartment closed, Cecil stopped seeing Debbie. Now, in the flesh, it was like seeing a whole new side of her. 

Debbie shook his hand and he finally found the words to speak, “And you must be Deborah. Come on, he's this way.” 

They soon fell into quick step with Cecil bringing up the rear. Donald started giving her the tour. 

She walked in silence for a bit before interrupting Donald mid sentence, looking over her shoulder, “So what took you so long to get to him?”

Cecil looked up from his gaze on the floor, realizing she was talking to him, “Oh, our teleporter is still a work in progress.”

She huffed, taking his response as dry humor. 

Cecil didn't feel like correcting her. 

“Shouldn't you be watching him in case things go bad?” She questioned. 

“We do,” Donald interjected, always rushing to Cecil’s defense, “But we've learned that usually he can take care of himself.”

“Plus,” Cecil adds, “He doesn't like it when the cameras might catch us running to his rescue. Wants the world to have confidence in him even if he gets knocked down…’don't let them see you bleed’ and all that.”

Debbie grimaced, her brow furrowing. 

Cecil didn’t want to psychoanalyze, he usually left that for the lab boys, but he could guess by her expression that she hasn’t thought about the whole “my boyfriend is a superhero” thing through enough. 

Concerning Nolan's fight, sometimes it was more important for the GDA to stand down and leave the big fish for the people who could catch them without blowing through millions of taxpayer dollars.

“Well, I guess he did bleed,” Cecil admitted, “But Omni-Man is aware of the risks. This is just the first time he’s realized just how seriously Earth needs his protection. Since the Guardians were out dealing with the issue in Hong Kong…well, we didn’t have a whole lot of options.”

“Don’t worry Deborah,” Donald assured, “Despite his injuries, his recovery is going right on schedule. The serpent’s tail that tore Omni-Man’s arm had a venom coating, but our scientists have already reverse engineered an antivenom. He’s healing rapidly, in part to his Viltrimite heritage and our own medical team. He should be out of here by tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, Deborah’s grimace faded and she let out a soft breath through her lips to calm herself. 

“Thank you,” she whispered quietly.

They led her to Nolan’s room and let her have some privacy. 

Cecil didn't know it then, but it would be years before she was that understanding and kind to either of them again. 

—————

When Debbie was with Nolan, she always attempted to cover every inch of him. She was on him the instant he got home from whatever world-saving event he was up to, kissing off the sweat and ensuring he would release his endorphins and anxiety and adrenaline onto her. 

After everything was done, she would lie languid and stretched, one leg up and arched over his waist and an arm over his shoulders. She would listen to his breathing, calm and constant, never labored- even then. 

She would feel comforted by the sound of Mark pausing his video game to walk downstairs to the kitchen, warm with the thought that their son was loved and cared for. 

Nolan was a good father- a great father. He was forgiving, humorous, and supportive. He rarely raised his voice; only lowered his tone in the rare show of disapproval. He was wise. When Debbie talked with him, he was open and his advice was good. Correct. Even if it wasn’t something that Mark wanted to hear, Nolan would tell it and Mark would listen because he’s a good kid. 

It’s clear now that she’d been spoiled. Debbie had been spoiled rotten by having a husband who loved her- no, let’s be honest- who pretended to love her- and now she had to function without. Not only without a partner who could support her and guide her as a mother, but without a partner where she doesn’t have to constantly strain to take up space. 

Maybe it was her intuition that was constantly telling her that there wasn’t anything she could do to please him. Every time she grapled for his touch, every time she attempted to touch every inch. It didn’t matter what he said or didn’t say, his unspoken words that told her that she was more than enough, none of it mattered because she knew. 

Deep inside she always knew. 

Even though she knew it wasn’t a competition (just who exactly was she competing against?) she couldn’t help but let the inferiority sink in. 

And now that he was gone (for now) it was like a bike spring that had suddenly snapped, the pressure gone within an instant and leaving her wobbling and tumbling over.

Somehow, talking with someone that she wasn’t constantly straining to be her very best with was a godsend. 

Debbie knew that she didn’t have to act her best with Cecil Stedman, anything but. He had seen her at her worst. Most vulnerable. Not only when Nolan was here, but when everything finally went to shit.

Maybe that was why she was on her second glass of over expensive wine. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

“I’ve been thinking…” Debbie began, and frowned and the way Cecil’s lips immediately curled into a half smile, “Shut up. Anyways, since you don’t go out to dinner, and I assume all you do is watch baseball in the office because it’s clear you rarely leave-”

“I plead the fifth.” Cecil interrupted, but Debbie continued.

“Do you have any other hobbies? Like, do you read?”

“Do you?” Cecil asked.

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

Debbie's nose crinkled, “Throwing it back on me. You answer first.”

She saw the way Cecil rolled his tongue in his mouth, contemplating his answer. “I read occasionally.”

“Give me more detail than that.” 

“I’ve been to more interrogations than I can count, so I know what they sound like. Why does this have the pattern of one?” Cecil had leaned back in his chair, finished his glass long ago. Food forgotten.

Debbie sighed, “Cecil, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in a restaurant together. People talk in restaurants. Usually about things. Like reading.” 

“Relax Debbie, I’m just teasing…I read nonfiction from time to time.”

“Hmm…” She hummed.

“Now I have a question for you.” Cecil mused, his eyes following her hands as she set down the glass. 

“You know me, Cecil, open book. All in my file.”

A huff. “The question I'm about to ask isn't on your file.”

That caught her interest. “What?”

“What did you think when you first saw me?” Cecil asked, his tone betraying nothing. She didn’t know if he was teasing or not, especially considering their tone for the majority of the evening. 

“You mean when Nolan broke his arm?”

Cecil nodded.

Debbie ruminated on her answer. It could go two ways: she could give it to him straight or play with him. Ultimately, with his eyes in rapt attention, probably the best bet would be to play it off. 

“Nothing special, honestly. It was before I knew how cutthroat you could really be. Probably something about your scar or how uptight you always look.”

He had put his elbow on the table, cradling his chin, “...You think I’m uptight?”

“I don’t think you’re loose. ” But as she said it, she could tell it wasn’t the truth in the present company. Somehow, in the short time since she dared to give him a ring on impulse, he had tried his best to show her the opposite. Show her what he could be, if he tried hard enough. Sure, it was awkward and bumbling and a bit pathetic, but at least he wasn’t uptight. “At least, not the majority of the time.”

He did that smile again- that lopsided smile due to his scarring that didn’t reach his eyes but still sent a shock of warmth down Debbie’s chest.

“So what I want to know now,” Cecil started, finally meeting her eyes after so many quick glances and furtive stares at the table, “Is where it changed.”

Debbie sighed. She doubted she could even put it into words. 

“Where it changed from thinking you’re uptight, to me hating you because you have no moral compass?” She asked, eyes darting to the wine. Debbie picked it up, twirling it in her fingers before eyeing the restaurant. 

They were one of the few couples left now. It was late. They would have to leave soon…anything she could grasp but thinking about this.

Cecil looked solemn, like death. Somewhere along the way, the emotions had changed in an instant. He needed this, he needed Debbie’s response like water. 

“Well, for a long time it was because every time I saw you, or Donald, or any of the GDA I knew something bad had happened. Everytime I made that drive to the Pentagon, I never knew what you were going to say next.”

Cecil nodded like he understood, and Debbie couldn’t stop the flare of anger that made her face a degree hotter. 

“Then, when I got pregnant, and all your people came by for tests and check-ups, I realized what I was to you. What my unborn baby was for you.”

If she didn’t know Cecil so well Debbie might have missed it- the tightening of his jaw. He hated this conversation, maybe hated himself. Well, he asked the question, and he was absolutely getting an answer.

She couldn’t help the vitriol seep through, “An object. Cecil, I had all my choices robbed from me the instant I found out I was pregnant. Even if Mark turned out completely normal, I knew eyes would be on me and him until I died…regardless of Nolan.”

Debbie sighed, looking out the window of Liliana’s into the parking lot. It was dark outside, a streetlamp bathing her car. Insects buzzed around the bulb, knocking into the light over and over again. She could practically see the two of them, a past version of herself with Nolan. She watched as imaginary Nolan hoisted her up onto the hood of the car, grabbing her waist for a kiss.

She turned her gaze back to the man in front of her, the real one. He was silent, looking at her patiently, on the edge of his seat, waiting for the twist in the script where she told him he was fine despite it all, that it meant something. 

“You may be trying to save the world, Cecil,” Debbie finally tilted the wine to her lips, draining the last of it, “But that doesn’t make you better than anyone else…than me, or my son.”

“Debbie,” Cecil breathed, his voice tilting imperceptibly towards some kind of edge that she didn’t care to pinpoint. “I wish I could convince you that I never thought that- think that.”

“No, you do, every day. You make these calculations with your lab boys and whoever else on which lives really matter to destroy for the sake of others.” Debbie shook her head. She should have never expected Cecil to understand. “At least Nolan had the balls to say I was a pet to him.”

She stood up, abruptly, and tried to ignore the slight tilt of the world as she trudged outside, leaving Cecil with the bill. Least he could do.

She leaned against the driver’s side door as she waited for Cecil to follow her outside. A part of her wondered whether he would just teleport right there. But he didn’t. She watched with difficulty through the tinted windows as he paid the bill, got up, looked right at her, and exited the restaurant straight toward her. 

Once he got to the car, she expected that he’d have some kind of rebuttal. Even a weak “You’re drunk, you don’t mean that” would be better than nothing. But he just stood there. So she struck with the barb she’d been holding. 

“I’ve got a question for you Cecil, and tell it to me straight.”

He nodded, waiting.

“If my life was on the line, and me dying meant saving the world, would you let me die?” The question was so quick, but it held everything she despaired about. A question that wondered whether her puny life really meant anything at all. 

His response was just as sharp, loud and quick, “Debbie, I would never -” And then he paused, catching himself. He knew his actual answer, despite whatever he wanted. “Please,” He murmured, correcting himself, “Please don’t make me answer that.”

It was a death sentence. The final nail in her coffin. 

“So this is how you really feel-” She started but suddenly he surged towards her, his hand gripping her wrist. 

“It’s not even a choice!” He snapped, “Listen, I don’t know if you’re being this self absorbed to get on my nerves or if you’re really this blind, but my. Feelings. Don’t. Matter.” 

Debbie was so shocked that she couldn’t do anything other than let him explain himself.

“Of course I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, or Mark, or anyone else…but if it meant saving the world? Billions of lives with relationships just as strong as you have, as I have? Who am I to risk them because I’ve let myself be selfish?”

Selfish. That's what this was about. Cecil was being selfish by being around her. 

It was then that Debbie realized something fundamental- that she liked Cecil’s company. 

She liked that Cecil defended her when he put his life on the line to distract Nolan. 

She liked Cecil going through the effort to show he was sorry by fixing her house and making the gravestone and doing all the coverup. 

She liked the mental anguish Cecil had when she questioned him because that meant he was human who felt sorry. And some twisted fucked up way, it meant he was still trying. 

It was dangerous to realize that in some parallel universe, where Cecil wasn’t Director of the GDA and her son wasn’t a superhero asset, that she could see something there.

Cecil seemed to realize his proximity to her and his grip around her wrist and he quickly let go, stepping back like he’d been scorched. Debbie couldn’t tell much from the half light of the street lamp, but she could tell he was tense. He took a big gulp of air, his hands finding that familiar spot in his pockets. Cecil opened his mouth as if to apologize but closed it when he made eye contact with her. Whatever he saw, and Debbie didn’t even know, halted his tongue. 

She had only one thing to say, and it definitely wasn’t her own apology or something wise.

A pause, and then, “I need you to drive me home.”

Chapter Text

Foilsick (adj.) Feeling ashamed after revealing a little too much of yourself to someone.

—————

Cecil’s regret didn’t happen instantly. It didn’t happen the second the words left his lips- because he was right. He was justified. However, his moment of regret came in when he looked into Debbie’s eyes and saw her shock, and then how they brimmed with trepidation and guilt. 

She felt guilty about her actions, her words, which she shouldn’t be- they were valid, and any other person not in his position would understand where she was coming from. 

And sure, Cecil understood, but he couldn’t empathize. He’d been doing this for so long that he struggled to step into her shoes. And for that, he felt regret. For raising his voice, for grabbing her arm, for causing her pain. 

There would be no words that could heal a relationship like theirs, especially when Cecil was steadfast on Invincible’s, on Mark’s, continued superherodom.

He expected her to fight against his outburst, say something biting or trite or maybe even a bit depressing, but instead she just stated her need for him to drive her home.

Upon recalling her two glasses of generously poured wine, Cecil just sighed and took one hand out of his pockets, palm facing upward and waiting expectantly for the keys.  

Cecil didn't meet her eyes as the cold metal hit his fingers, only waited for her to move away from the driver's side door so he could slide inside. 

The ride back to Debbie’s house was silent, the only noise being the crackle of whatever song was on the radio.

Cecil couldn’t stop himself from drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tick that betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor.

Maybe, just maybe, if he manages to not give enough away, maybe he can make it through this night without doing something he'll horrendously regret. Something he wouldn't be able to meet Donald’s eyes about. 

Cecil slowly turned down Debbie’s street, blissful in its suburban way except for the house opposite hers, still a crater wrapped in police tape. His teeth pressed together at the sight- he had completely forgotten to get someone to clear out the wreckage since he was so overwhelmed with the disaster in Chicago. He made a mental note to remind Donald about it later, knowing that he should be in full functioning capacity by next morning.

Cecil turned, ready to finally break the silence by telling her goodnight, but Debbie had already exited the car. He gripped the steering wheel nervously before following after her. She beat him to the door, and when it dawned on her who actually had the keys to let her inside, Debbie turned around. 

God. 

Cecil had promised her he’d be more honest, and when he finally burst at the seams with all that honesty… he could tell it broke her.

But here, on the step of her front door, Cecil had to hold himself back from being honest once more, holding himself back from telling her just how beautiful he thought she looked.

Right there, a loose string of hair off her bun that now fell past her ear, the way she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes because of their height difference, the way her brown eyes were a bit hazy and sad and desperately intoxicating. An eyebrow raised in slight impatience, waiting for him to hand the keys over. 

Cecil often felt bad about many things he did- many things he had to do, and he felt pain over those choices, a continuous self-infliction of misery.

But this? Seeing her here? It was so much worse. He ached.

“Cecil…” She started, and he had to blink himself out of the stupor. “My keys…”

Cecil grunted and finally handed them over, the tips of his fingers brushing her wrist for a millisecond. 

She turned around to unlock the door, turned the knob, and then glanced back at him. 

“What?” She questioned, “Spit it out.”

Be honest with her, Cecil . 

“You're beautiful,” He blurted, and watched as confusion and shock knit her eyebrows. “I..uh...earlier I asked you what you first thought of when you saw me. That one's mine.” 

He took a step towards her, ignoring that traitorous heart that slammed against his chest. 

“And not just in looks. In personality,” Cecil took a deep breath, his weight shifting to one side in order to alleviate the tension of her eyes boring into him. “You're a good person, Debbie. You're right for hating me.”

He laughed bitterly, looking up at how  the roof stuck out over the porch, watching the bugs circle around the overhead bulb. “Christ, it means you have a soul. If you actually like my company, then something must be wrong.” 

“I invited you over, didn't I?” 

Cecil looked down, his mouth dropping in shock.

“We had dinner together, didn't we?” Debbie asked, breaking the spell his words put on her, “Or did I imagine that part?” 

Slowly, Cecil shook his head.

“Then somehow,” Debbie stated, meeting his eyes like a challenge, “In some stupid, fucked up way, I must enjoy your company, shouldn't I?” 

Cecil felt himself swallow involuntarily as he watched her slip her keys into her pocket then reach up hesitantly. His breath caught as her soft hand found his face, finger pads cradling his scar. 

“I thought about it alot on the drive home…what you said.” 

So much of Cecil’s life was cutthroat, tough. Don’t let them see you sweat, that kind of thing. But hell, he had never been as tense as he was as he waited for Debbie’s next words. 

“You said you would be selfish by saving my life. Are you…selfish when you’re with me?” Cecil noticed she was choosing her words carefully, sounding them out before they left her lips. Like trying to confirm a crackpot theory.

He couldn’t tell if it was nervousness or her attempting to push past her drunkenness, but whatever it was made his jaw tighten. She must have felt the tensing beneath her hand, because he felt her thumb rub absently on the underside of his chin next to his ear. 

“I forget who I am with you, Debbie, even if it's only for a couple minutes,” Cecil sighed, reaching his hand up to grab her wrist for the second time that night but under vastly different circumstances. His heart thrummed with something between exhilaration and bone chilling fear. “It's the most selfish I've ever been.”

On impulse, his head tilted as he leaned into her touch.

Her eyes widened, her mouth parting slightly. 

For a moment, Cecil feared he had fucked everything up; ruined the possibility of any positive relationship. So in that moment, that single heartstopping millisecond, he figured that if he was in for a penny he might as well be in for a pound. 

He bent towards her, eyes flicking across her plump lips before he met her gaze. 

His heart slammed in his chest, but her warm palm against his face gave him courage. 

“Please,” He murmured, a hair's breadth away from tasting her. This was the moment. She had every chance to pull away, every right. 

He wouldn't do anything without her say-so, her explicit encouragement.

So when she surged forward to meet his lips, he almost couldn't believe it. 

Her fingers slid up from his chin and brushed his ear, the other hand wrapping around his neck, trapping him in a vice that he never wanted to escape as his eyes closed. 

Debbie tasted like wine and smelled like lavender and felt like absolute bliss.

Cecil melted into her touch, aching to please and provide as he met her ravenous rhythm. He couldn’t stop himself from sighing against her lips. 

He wanted to feel every piece of her, his hands finding her hips as he pressed flush against her body. Cecil's mouth moved in synchronicity with her's, turning his head as their lips slotted and parted over and over again.

He never wanted this to end. If this kiss stole his breath, it would be a wonderful way to die. Cecil would die without regrets, and at least Donald was alive again to succeed him. 

Cecil's leg slid in between Debbie’s, and in a shot of boldness used his pressure on her hips to shove her backwards. She bumped against the door and let out a sort of squeak.

His body burned, and Cecil felt like a foolish teenager again as he surged forward to taste her. Feeling his throat constrict due to loss of oxygen, he broke contact with her mouth and attacked her neck, mouthing at it with a ravenous sort of reverence. 

Cecil wanted to take as much as he could, acutely aware of the possibility of this bliss ending at any moment.

He could feel her quick pants for breath as he kissed her neck, his fingers pressing into her skin through the fabric of her shirt as they glided up from her hips to her waist. Somewhere along the way one of Debbie’s hands had slid up the back of Cecil's head and into his hair, fingers tangled in gray strands. The other was digging into the fabric of his suit and pressing hard against his flesh. 

Debbie was panting into the cold air when she managed to find words, “Where's Mark? I know you know.” 

It didn't seem like a dig at his surveillance as she shivered under his touch. It seemed like an out, a desperate attempt at something that could lead further than this porch. And as a matter of fact, he did know where Mark was. 

“He's at Amber's,” Cecil said against her skin, “He'll be staying.”

He had checked on Mark’s location before he left work, right before he saw Debbie’s location at the gravesite.

“Good,” Debbie whispered, “Now let me go so I can unlock the door.” 

Cecil chuckled, chest warm with the promise of more, and let go of his tight hold on her waist.

As her key slid into the lock, Cecil's fear crept back up. There was no way she would let him inside her house, much less move this distraction any further. Her ex-husband was Omni-man for crying out loud…how on Earth- this galaxy- this universe , could he ever compete? Cecil already knew he wasn't attractive by ordinary standards, but knowing what he was up against made it a million times worse.

Being director of the Global Defense Agency definitely doesn’t help his chances.

The door swung open with a light push, and she flicked the lights on one by one. Cecil stepped gingerly inside, rationalizing the last few minutes in his mind.

This was actually happening. She was kissing him back, touching him like he was touching her. 

Every selfish desire he’d ever had involving her flashed through his mind in rapid succession as Debbie flicked off her heels and walked over to the kitchen. Cecil raised an eyebrow as he stood in the middle of the living room, hands tense in the pockets of his jacket. 

She opened up a cabinet, took out a tumbler and a bottle, and began to pour.

The clock on the stove was well past midnight.

“What are you doing?” Cecil asked, meeting her in the kitchen, “I don’t think you should be drinking any more.”

“Not for me,” She said, handing him the glass, “For you. Liquid courage.”

Cecil looked down at the whiskey in his hand, swirling the liquor around in its glass. He had spent his whole career never letting people know his true intentions, lying and cheating and lying some more. But somehow, around Debbie, he couldn’t hide a damn thing, and she knew it. 

Concerning Debbie, he was absolutely terrified. 

She was drunk, drunk enough that she didn’t feel comfortable driving home. He wasn’t exactly completely sober either, but based on what he saw he couldn’t guarantee that she was in complete control of her decisions. He didn’t even know if the drinks they had at the restaurant were her first of the day, and given her behavior the day before, there was a huge possibility they weren’t. 

But when would an opportunity like this appear again? When would he have the most beautiful and badass woman he’s ever met want him again?

Cecil threw back the glass of whiskey, letting it slam against the marble countertop of the kitchen island with a muted thud. He met her eyes as he swallowed, and watched as her own flicked down to watch the liquid travel down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as the whiskey burned its path downwards. 

“I’m not going to be like him,” Cecil breathed, so quiet he thought he had said it in his head. But Debbie was so close, her head tilted up to his, that she caught it. “There’s nothing more I want right now than this. But you have to understand…I’m not going to be what you want. The man you want.”

Cecil planned that he could talk her out of this, that the feeling of her supple lips on his would be a memory of what could have been. That if he can coax her from this, that he could tell himself that he had done everything he could- that they simply weren’t compatible. He could tell himself that the chemistry he felt right now was a fluke, and they could forget this night and go back to Debbie despising him.

He was shocked as she rolled her eyes, grabbed the lapel of his suit, and yanked him forward, his body stumbling as he was flush with hers. 

“I’m getting pretty tired of other people telling me what I want,” Debbie said, her attitude coming back again with a vengeance.

Cecil felt his chest rise and fall in quick breaths, urgency thrummed through his veins, everything inside him wanting to please. At any moment, he felt like he could easily walk straight off this cliff, lose all self control and take from her whatever he wanted, everything he secretly dreamed about.

The only thing that held him back was that he knew she was going to regret this. When the buzz wears off and the sun rises and she wakes up the next day with Cecil not by her side, she will curse herself for what she’s doing right now. 

It was an unfortunate inevitability. They couldn’t change the state of the world or the parts they played in it- and neither of them wanted to.

But there was nothing Cecil wanted to do more than swallow up Debbie’s passion, channel it, amplify it, make it sing. 

Who was he, staring down someone like her, to deny what she said she wanted?

He captured her lips quickly, chasing the high of her touch, his hands finding that now familiar spot at her waist. 

Everything outside Cecil’s job was an enigma that heightened a hidden insecurity that he would never be good enough. Somehow, in this moment, that fear propelled him, pushing him past traditional barriers like age or physical prowess in an attempt to prove himself wrong for the benefit of the person before him now. 

It was like the kiss on the porch had resumed. Debbie melted to his touch, their mouths melding together, bodies flush.

Excitement pumped through Cecil’s thoughts as he touched her smooth skin, felt her plump lips against his thin ones, the way she didn’t seem to mind his scars as her fingers held his face for purchase.

Debbie moaned into his mouth as Cecil freed her shirt from its diligent tuck, his slender fingers touching cool skin before quickly traveling upwards. He could tell she wanted more, yearned for more, so he slowly walked her backward the few steps until her back was pressing against the countertop. 

“Up,” He ordered when he could finally separate his lips from hers, a slight huskiness slipping into his usual timbre. 

Debbie nodded quickly before putting her palms against the counter, using them to propel herself upward. Once she was sitting on the cool marble, Cecil grabbed her legs, spread them, and stepped into the space. Her legs wrapped around his back like she read his mind as he met her for another kiss. 

“Good girl,” He growled as they separated, his dick already straining against his tight trousers. 

Now that the height difference had shifted so that Debbie had an inch or two over him on the counter, she seemed to revel in the newfound superiority she had over him. He could only imagine how he looked as his face warmed up with thoughts of devilish intentions. 

Her heels dug into Cecil’s jacket as he glanced downwards, his fingers unzipping her pants. Debbie pressed her lips together in anticipation as Cecil brought his fingers upward, and swallowed his index and middle, sucking quietly. 

“Hurry up,” Debbie whispered, her eyes following his digits as they left his mouth and slid beneath her layers of clothing. 

“Well aren't you a bossy thing,” He said before brushing against her folds. Her back arched slightly as Cecil's middle finger brushed against her clit, rubbing in small circular motions. 

“Don't act like you don't like it,” She said through quiet gasps, reaching one hand up to untie her bun. 

Cecil chuckled lowly, watching as Debbie writhed. “Yeah, I do.” He played with her clit for a bit before sliding down to feel her wetness, pushing a single finger inside. 

Debbie bit her lip, her ears turning pink as Cecil watched her. Breathtaking, just like he imagined, watching her strings pull taunt.

“I could tell you the same thing, actually,” Cecil teased, curling his finger inside and watching her shiver, “God, you're wet.” 

The position was slightly uncomfortable, his palm upwards and his knuckles rubbing against the rough texture of Debbie’s underwear and pants, but he wasn’t going to let any of that show. Any uncomfortability or strain or awkwardness he felt would be his secret alone so that he could treat Debbie to the experience she deserved. 

“Hah…more..” Debbie gasped, a quick moan escaping her lips as Cecil pulled back the tiniest bit so that another finger could enter her. 

Cecil’s breath was husky, every sensation of her wetness making him ache with a surge of anticipation to taste her, feel her, have her. 

He knew she was going to hate what they had done together once she awoke in a few hours, but God, all Cecil wanted was for her to look back on this night and feel that small curling of lust deep in the pit of her stomach that he felt every time he saw her. An inkling of what it meant to care about her and to so deeply want her despite it all. 

Her legs were still languidly draped over his back, so when he managed to pull his fingers away and straighten his back Debbie quickly tightened her hold. 

Cecil knew he couldn’t take her as far as he wanted, like across the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom, but he could take her to the couch where he could show her just how much he wanted to serve her. 

He wrapped his arms around her back, and with a grunt of effort, walked them both over to the couch. 

Debbie laughed into his neck, “Don’t break something.”

Cecil grimaced as he finally made his way to the couch where they had watched the latest baseball game the night before, bending his knees slightly before dropping her on the couch with a slight bounce. 

Debbie yelped in surprise, her eyes widening as Cecil climbed over her, his lanky frame engulfing her own. He was breathing hard, his eyes determined, and he watched as her own pupils flickered down to the bulge straining against his pants that was now incredibly apparent as she looked up.

“I need you to stop talking,” Cecil growled, one leg bent on the couch and the other still on the ground, his left hand next to her head and the other grabbing her chin roughly, “And take off your pants.”

He let go of her face and watched her scramble, giving her the room she needed to push down her pants just enough for him to do the rest, grabbing the bunch gathered at her thighs and yanking them off. 

He didn’t want to give themselves time to pause for a moment, to reflect on what they were doing together. All he wanted was to have all of her, no matter if she reciprocated his feelings or not. 

He didn’t care that she was using him, and had used him from the very start she called while he was at the Chicago reconstruction. He wanted to take advantage of this moment, and nothing was going to stand in his way now that he could tell she wanted what he could eagerly provide. 

Cecil shimmied as far as he could until his shoe was hitting the arm of the couch before bending down again, his left hand now supporting his weight as his right grabbed at Debbie’s lace panties. His fingers rubbed against the floral arrangement before he slowly pulled them down, hardened eyes interlocked with hers. 

Debbie bit her lip as her wet pussy met cold air, but Cecil didn’t let it stay like that for long. After discarding her underwear along with her pants, he pushed her legs apart gently, urging one to drape languidly across his shoulder while her other touched ground. 

Cecil couldn’t hide his eagerness as he licked his lips eagerly before descending, covering her inner thigh in soft kisses. 

“You’re beautiful,” Cecil said for the second time that night before his patience wore thin and his mouth covered her entrance. 

Just feeling her with his fingers wasn’t enough. Hearing her muted pants of breath as his digits sunk into her wasn’t enough either. But as his tongue flicked over her clit and he felt her body shiver, Cecil figured he was getting pretty close. 

It took everything in him to hold out for her. Her moans were so whimpery, shaking with every swipe of his tongue, but also so her in its pitch that Cecil couldn’t help but feel his body sing in response. 

All Cecil wanted to do was please, to slowly draw out every shaky breath she had till she was gasping for air. 

“Hhhh…mmph…” Debbie moaned, pressing her mouth together to muffle herself. Cecil looked up from his task, solidly meeting her gaze as his tongue slipped between her folds. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the slick couch. 

Cecil’s nose pressed flush against her clit as his tongue roamed inside her wet walls. He couldn’t help but groan at her taste, feeling her body vibrate from the sound. 

Her back arched as Debbie gasped at the ceiling, tearing herself away from Cecil. When she wasn’t looking at him she seemed to fall deeper into the sensations. 

Cecil separated a hand from her thigh to press a thumb against her sensitive clit, circling as his tongue explored her. 

“Oh fuckkk…” Debbie moaned long and slow as Cecil sucked before coming off with a wet pop and diving back down, her voice breaking high near the end. 

He wanted her to cum on his tongue, feel her body convulse and pitch break, to watch as she whimpered by his touch. Cecil didn’t let up, even as his dick twitched and ached to just get the whole thing over with, aching with the want to give himself a bit of pleasure. But no, this was for her.

And he couldn’t even argue that he didn’t feel pleasure from this too, seeing her shields disintegrate as he explored her, practically feeling her temperature increase from his tongue’s place deep within her folds. 

Debbie’s moans were increasing in pitch the more he tasted her, thumb swirling over her hard clit. They were practically coming out in squeaks.

She started to say something unintelligible. Cecil couldn’t make it out through the gasps, only quick little syllables that essentially led nowhere. But he knew what it meant.

He coaxed out her orgasm, felt her walls contract and body shake. Cecil watched from his position between her legs as Debbie’s eyes closed and her mouth opened in a silent moan, gasping breathlessly. 

Cecil pulled away and licked his lips hungrily, planting delicate kisses on her inner thighs where his fingers had left pink tinged marks.  

He waited until her breathing slowed to sit up, running his hand over his head to push his hair back. Debbie met him there, her lips devouring his, no doubt tasting herself in his mouth. Cecil groaned, reaching down to palm at his aching crotch. 

He managed to pull away, his forehead pressed against hers, “Upstairs. Now. I’ll be up.”

She stood up quickly, and Cecil felt the smallest bolt of pride at seeing her legs wobble slightly as she practically scurried up the stairs. 

Cecil was slower, picking up her discarded clothes. His own clothes felt slightly damp, and he reached up to loosen his tie before taking it completely off and draping it over Debbie’s clothes hung over his arm. 

He followed after her, stopping only to notice the slight off color patch of paint next to the stairs. He frowned- a reminder that the repairs didn’t wholly fix the damage Nolan caused. Cecil shook his head before climbing the stairs and slipping down the hallway, knowing just where to go. 

The door was open, and through it he saw a direct view of the bed, with Debbie laying on it completely naked. His breath froze as she stretched, arms above her head as she waited for him. Cecil stepped inside, throwing their clothes on the ground and shutting the door shut behind him. 

“Fuck,” He gasped, earning a mischievous smile from Debbie.

At her smile, the familiar feeling of inadequacy spiked through him. She was gorgeous, like a present wrapped just for him. And here he was…

Cecil shrugged off his jacket before leaning over and flicking the light off. The room plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the nighttime outside that slowly outlined everything in the room.

“Why’d you do that?” Debbie asked, moving over to the edge of the bed. 

“Please,” Cecil sighed, unbuttoning his white collared shirt, “Just let me have this.”

He didn’t want to explain his insecurities to her to ruin the moment, and he definitely didn’t want to give her the option to fill his ears with false platitudes. 

Debbie sat up like she wanted to say something, but ended up falling quiet as Cecil slowly took off his remaining wardrobe, the only thing staying being the watch on his wrist. He hadn’t been naked in front of another person in years. 

Cecil crawled onto the bed, tilting Debbie’s chin up in the dark. He kissed her softly, lovingly, transplanting his delusional selfishness into every touch. He moaned as Debbie felt for him in the dark, her fingers curling around his shaft as they kissed. 

Cecil shuttered, breaths haphazard. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this, absolutely pathetic as he thawed under her delicate touch. He needed her more than he ever needed anything before, needed to feel what it was like to push his cock inside her, feel her warm pussy envelop him. 

He whimpered as Debbie pumped his cock, using his slick precum to deftly drive her hand. He could cum right here and now. He felt the pressure build. 

“Stop, Debbie, please stop,” He gasped helplessly, pulling their mouths apart. She slowed down, and he could hear her hushed breathing. “Let me take care of you.”

A sentence he could utter to her only in this extremely specific setting. Anywhere else, and she would argue and yell until her throat went hoarse. But here, as he eased her down onto the bed, spreading her legs apart and getting in between them, he knew that this would be the only time he would ever get the chance. 

He felt her slickness as he aligned with her entrance, his cock rubbing across her folds. He couldn’t wait any longer, and by the sounds of Debbie’s anxious breathing she couldn’t wait either. 

Cecil pushed inside slowly, groaning deep and low as he filled her with each incredible inch. He kept going until he was flush against her, his hands wrapped around her waist. 

“You alright?” He managed to growl out, teeth grinding as he felt the warmth of her tight cunt. 

“Go already,” Debbie shot back.

It was the last bit of confirmation he needed.

Cecil’s hips snapped back before slamming into her again, eliciting a shocked gasp from the woman below him. He began to piston into her with a strength he didn’t even know he still had. 

He huffed, already falling apart at how amazing she felt. Heat that spread through his thin frame like a chemical fire, and nothing was going to put it out. 

Debbie moaned, forced to take the ricochet of his seemingly relentless pursuit, “Oh god, yes.”

Cecil couldn’t stop himself as words spilled out of his mouth, chasing that insurmountable high, “You like that, yeah?” 

He could see the outline of her face as she nodded. His pace was consistent, pulling back before slamming into her again. “Take it, take it, take it.”

Debbie whimpered loudly, reaching up to pull her legs back so that he could hit her deep. “Yeah, just like that,” Cecil acknowledged, “Such a good girl. You know just what you want.”

The position was so intimate, so close to her. One of Cecil’s hands left her hips to slam next to her head as he bent downwards, his nose almost brushing her neck as he fucked her. He could hear every whimper, every whispy breath, every pitched moan that left her lips. 

He was glad that the darkness provided him with this tiny incremental shield, a covering from how earth-shatteringly weak he felt for her. 

He doubted he could make her cum again, like this, and honestly he wasn’t thinking that much about it. As he fucked her, his cock pumping in and out of her slick pussy, the only thing he could think about was chasing his own high. 

If Debbie noticed, she didn’t seem to mind, content on losing herself to the moment. 

With these actions, Cecil was the most selfish he’d ever been. 

He groaned, unable to stop himself as the cord on his self control finally snapped, fucking her haphazardly as he rode out his high. 

He could feel his release pour into her, letting it finish before he pulled out. He collapsed next to her, their intermingling heavy breathing puffing into the air. 

After his pulse died down to a reasonable level and Cecil no longer felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack, he got up to grab a towel from the bathroom. He came back to the bed, offering the towel to Debbie after wiping off his own sweat. 

Cecil settled down with a sigh, languidly stretching across the length of the bed. Debbie shifted closer and placed her head on his chest without invitation. Cecil carded his fingers through her hair, her weight an uncomfortable but welcome pressure. After a bit of this silence, Debbie seemed satisfied and rolled over to sleep. Cecil stared up at the ceiling, the images of what they had just done replaying over and over in his mind.

————— 

It had hardly been an hour when Cecil was woken up to a buzz in his ear.

“Sir, are you awake?” Donald’s voice crackled through his earpiece. 

Cecil sat up, looked over at Debbie fast asleep, and groaned. 

“Sir?”

“Shit Donald, give me time to wake up,” Cecil admonished. 

“Sorry sir.” 

Cecil managed to stand, rolling his sore shoulders, “What is it this time?” He took a quick glance at his watch, the time flashing bright into his eyes. Not even four in the morning. 

Guess there really is no rest for the wicked. 

“There seems to be a Hydra off the coast of Ireland.” Cecil could hear the ruffling of papers on Donald’s end. Despite the unwelcome wake up call, he had to admit he was thankful his friend was back on the field again. He was also thankful that Donald always seemed to respect his privacy on principle: since Cecil could teleport anywhere he wanted, Donald never had the need to check his location. 

“Gimme a few minutes, Donald, I’ll be right there.”

Being careful not to wake Debbie, Cecil managed to find all his clothes in the dark and make his way over to the bathroom. After dressing himself, Cecil made sure to give himself a mean look in the mirror. He smoothed his hair down and straightened his tie. He sniffed himself, and easily determined he smelled like sex. This would be a mean one for Donald to ignore without a raised eyebrow. 

After determining that there was nothing he could do about it, Cecil selected the familiar coordinates of his office back at the GDA, trying not to think about how he just left Debbie alone in the dark. 

His atoms stretched and collapsed again, the bright lights of his office making him squint. Donald was already there, not phased in the slightest by his entrance. 

“Couldn’t handle the Hydra yourself?” Cecil asked, his question their own private language that decoded to ‘tell me what you know.’ 

After getting a quick brief and giving the order on some billion dollar missiles, Cecil’s thoughts inevitably drifted back to Debbie. 

“Donald, before you go,” Cecil called, his words catching him before he made his way out the door, “I need you to handle the leveling of the property across from the Grayson’s.”

He knew it was kind of fucked up to ask Donald to handle the project, having him oversee the place where he thought he almost died. But he knew Donald could handle it. 

Cecil could easily spin an excuse for Donald on why he wanted it done, one that wasn’t about how soft he was for a woman who would never care about him the way he cared about her. 

But Cecil also knew that Donald didn’t need that to do his job. 

Just another thing he wouldn’t tell him about. 

Donald raised an eyebrow, a question he would never ask verbally but Cecil read instantly on his expression. Cecil waved a hand, “Just do it.”

Donald nodded, the door sliding shut behind him. 

Cecil sighed heavily, gearing up for a long, tired day ahead of him, less than an hour's worth of sleep rattling around his frame. No doubt Debbie was getting more. 

Settling down at his desk, Cecil grabbed his tablet, opened up the Immortal file, and tried not to think about how much he already missed her. 

In a few hours, Debbie would wake up, realize he wasn’t there, and then the bitterness would hit her. How Cecil had left her all alone, the second man to do so. 

The most honest Cecil had ever been, and it still wouldn’t be enough to get what he really wanted out of this world. 

He pushed that thought down too, along with everything else. 

Cecil had work to do, and he knew he could no longer let himself be selfish with her again.

Especially if he went through with the plans he had for Mark Grayson. 

He would soon chalk up this night as an example of an ever-growing list of Cecil Stedman’s weaknesses; ones that won’t be repeated. 

Probably.