Chapter 19: What could have been/Live with your mistakes/Absurdity

The air grows heavy with tension as Brian reaches for the door handle, his eyes locking onto the familiar chocolate brown irises, partly obscured by tinted sunglasses. "Lena?" The name falls from his lips, tinged with surprise and uncertainty.

A slightly nervous wave greets him in response. "Hi!" Lena offers, her usual exuberance tempered by a melancholic lit. "Probably didn't expect me here." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a tremulous smile playing at her lips. "I sent a text, but you might not have seen it."

Brian's brow furrows and he looked back to his phone which rested on the couch "ive been busy but… hi."

Lena moves to sit opposite Brian on the couch, palming a cup of water as his eyes remain fixed on the coffee table, trying not to stare. She sighs, a hand covering her face as she peeks between parted fingers. "I know we haven't talked, but...I've been trying to figure out what to say."

Brian's hands rest firmly on his knees as Lena's gaze drops to the cup cradled in her lap. "I know you have questions about the party, and I'm going to answer them. As best I can."

He opens his mouth, the bruise on his chest pulsing as if still fresh. "What happened?"

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Lena begins. "We all drank and got drunk on some wine or something Angela had. We ate, then got into a conversation about Thanksgiving." Her shoulders tense as Brian's expression remains neutral. "I was showing you to the bathroom, and you found a picture I took of Amelie. She walked in, and I wanted to hide it. I lunged for it, and Amelie did too, accidentally hurting you in the process. You spilled wine and ran out."

Her gaze falls to the table as Brian inhales sharply. "That's it?"

Anger rises within Lena as his eyes bore into her. "What do you mean?"

Brian crosses his arms, leaning back. "For a week, I've been sitting here assuming the worst. Getting frustrated and worrying about you and everyone because I thought maybe I did something wrong or hurt someone and got hurt back." He shakes his head. "And turns out I just got drunk and got hurt in a misunderstanding."

Their eyes lock. "Don't you have any questions?"

A sigh. "Not really? If it's just an embarrassing photo of my friend, I can understand her not wanting me to see it."

Something bubbles up in Lena as she shoots to her feet. "That's it? That's all it took? I just had to tell you what happened!"

Brian flinches. "I can tell you aren't lying, so what's the point? People get drunk and do stupid stuff all the time."

"That's not it!" Lena snaps. "You got hurt, and nobody said anything to you, and now you're just going to say 'my bad'?"

He looks up at her, confused. "Lena, it's no big deal."

"It is! Do you know how long I've been trying to come up with a way to fix this?"

"It's been less than a week."

Lena pauses, breath hitching as Brian's sincerity hits her. "Lena, if there's something you need to tell me, I'm here for you. If something else happened and you feel like you can't tell me, I guarantee you can."

Her fists clench white as she drops back onto the couch, a hand grasping her face. "Do you remember when we went running?" "Do you remember when we went running?" Brian nodded. "I was so angry because I was at the play. Angela dragged me along and I saw you dancing with Amelie."

Brian stiffened for a moment, yet seemed to understand. "You asked me in the park about chance encounters."

Brian's eyes started to widen as he opened his mouth briefly before stopping himself. Lena continued, "Me and Amelie used to be a thing. It wasn't for long, but me and her broke up and we haven't seen each other for a long time. I kept a photo of her because...it meant something to me."

Her voice took on a somber tone. "But the thing is, I don't hate her. I don't know what I feel about it because it just doesn't make sense. Me and her got together because I was messed up after the war. I ran out on my girl and then found myself at Amelie's door, and we hooked up."

Lena's hands tightened as the memories resurfaced. "Everytime I wasn't working, I was at her place. It was like drinking. As long as someone didn't need me, I was with her, and I didn't think about anything else. All I wanted was to not feel anything, and she was there. And I think she felt the same way, so we stuck together."

Her gaze met Brian's, raw vulnerability in her eyes. "Then I wanted to get serious, and she shirked away."

Brian remained neutral, processing the weight of her confession. "Lena, I-" He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know what you want from me. I mean, you two have history. And I know how it might be complicated to see someone you're friends with dance with your ex, but..." He shook his head slowly. "I don't think any less or more of you. Even if I still had problems with Amelie because of our past, I can't tell you anything."

The calm acceptance in his voice only seemed to fuel Lena's anguish. "Yes, you can! I cheated on my girlfriend and slept with a former assassin who's probably killed more people than you've talked to! And you're just going to shrug it off?"

Maintaining his calm, Brian rises to pull a tray from the oven. "Lena, it's relationships. I don't really know much about them. I've never even had a girlfriend before."

He turns, Lena speaks a hint of exasperation slipping through. "So you just don't care?"

"I care about the fact that it's tearing you up like this over a simple conversation." Brian pulls a pastry from the tray, placing it in a small Tupperware. "I don't get why you seem so...pissed about this."

He meets her gaze, his own eyes reflecting a mix of concern and confusion. "I care that you ignored me for a week and made me feel like shit, thinking I did something stupid to hurt someone. I care that I can still remember Amelie's eyes looking at me like I hurt her. Now, to know it's all about a photograph and your old relationship..."

Lena shakes her head, rising abruptly from the couch. "You know what really makes me angry?" He exhales heavily. "You could have just texted me what happened, and that would have been fine. I don't care what you did in your past, Lena, I really don't. But something's bothering you, and even after explaining about you and Amelie, you're still hurting."

Brian's brow furrows as he studies her inscrutably. "So do you just not trust me? Or are you lying about what happened? Are you really that ashamed about you and Amelie?"

Silence hangs heavy between them before Lena sighs. "This just didn't go how I thought it would."

"Lena." Brian's voice is gentle but insistent. "I'm telling you, even if you have a problem I can't help with, I'd help you in any way I can. You know I would. I don't want to see you shouldering something like this by yourself."

Lena rubs her arm self-consciously as a fish-shaped pastry is offered to her. "We've been here before," she murmurs, accepting it.

Brian's confusion is evident. "What do you mean?"

"I showed up once. And I lied." Lena's fingers worry at the pastry's flaky crust. "I felt ashamed about Amelie and the fact that I cared about her and the fact that we were together. I rewound over and over again because I just kept lying, and it never got better."

Realization dawns in Brian's widening eyes as he processes her admission. "So you've just been having this conversation over and over, trying to find some way to not hurt me but keep your relationship with Amelie secret?"

Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a disbelieving chuckle. "That sounds stupid. Aren't you angry about, you know, being rewound?" she asks

Her eyes narrow at his amusement. "A superhero has been rewinding time like Superman just to make sure my feelings aren't hurt. That's such a stupid idea, it sounds like it's from a comic book."

His laughter is cut short by her fist impacting his shoulder. "You're a bastard!"

Wheezing between chuckles, Brian shakes his head. "Lena, what did you even expect to happen if you told me you were with Amelie? I already danced with her, so it's not like I absolutely hated her. And it's not like I could even hold a grudge. I mean, me and her baked cookies together."

Lena's eyes widen in surprise. "You helped bake the cookies?"

"Yeah, Amelie wanted to bake them, and she was dead set on it, so I helped." Taking the fish pastry from her, Brian shows her the edge of the bruise peeking from his collar. "You know, my dad thought this was a hickey."

Lena was violently expelled from the vivid vision, the scene before her eyes burning away into ashen nothingness. An infinite expanse of swirling tesseracts materialized around her - kaleidoscopic fractals of sights, sounds and scents threatening to overwhelm her senses.

Fragments of memory flickered in and out of the maelstrom. Brian's warm smile as he offered her that flaky pastry rapidly decayed into formless ether. The stinging guilt she'd felt in that moment gnawed at her anew with vicious intensity.

"Shit..." Lena gasped, adrift in this surreal dimension.

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Yesterday

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Lena barges in, slamming the door. Her eyes land on Amelie reading from a tablet on the couch. Amelie glances up, catching Lena's fiery gaze. "That good, huh?"

Angela's smile fades as Lena seethes. "We need to talk. Honestly this time, because things are getting messy."

With a sigh, Angela removes her glasses and sets the tablet aside. "About?"

Lena drags a hand down her face. "The damn dinner party. I've been avoiding it, but Brian knows I wasn't straight with him."

Angela's expression saddens. "Lena, I'm not sure exactly what happened. He was just...very upset leaving."

"Don't play dumb." Lena steps closer, jaw clenched. "Why the hell did you invite Amelie?"

Taken aback, Angela replies carefully. "I thought you'd want to see her after the play. A friendly meal together."

Lena scoffs as Angela sips her coffee. "You could've warned me at least. And bringing Brian crossed a line!"

"I wanted to thank him," Angela says evenly. "He's been a positive influence. You seem happier, haven't been going out getting into trouble."

Lena opens her mouth, but Angela continues. "After your jog, you both had this...glow. I assumed you were becoming close after your date."

Lena notices the hollow ring of Angela's smile. "So inviting him was a 'thank you', but Amelie was just a coincidence?"

A measured nod. "I invited others like Hana too, but she declined."

"Lena..." Angela leans forward, holding her intense gaze. "I'm struggling to understand. You willingly attended Amelie's play, had her at the Christmas party despite protests. But having her to dinner was unconscionable?"

Straightening, Angela presses. "At the play, you were...off. Preoccupied. Then being dishonest about your meetup with Brian. Why did I have to hear about your jog from him?"

Lena shrinks under Angela's clinical stare, feeling utterly exposed. "It seems you're upset they were both there. Are you afraid of Brian learning about Amelie?"

Jaw tightening, Lena exhales sharply. "Yes! Alright? I don't want them knowing about each other."

Angela arches an eyebrow but remains silent until Lena finally snaps. "What, you think he'd judge me?"

"No?" Angela prods gently. "Then why?"

Fists clenched, Lena's voice wavers with restrained emotion. "Because she was there for me when I was at my lowest! I stupid, foolish idiot, I let myself get attached thinking she actually gave a damn."

Angela's expression hardens. "You're lying to yourself, Lena. You sought intimacy, a reprieve from your inner turmoil. That paradoxical attachment is natural when tensions demand release."

Rising, she continues with clinical detachment. "You didn't truly care then. It was afterwards you recreated an idealized romance to rationalize feeling rejected when she walked away."

Lena recoils, stung. "So it's all my fault?!"

Angela's features soften as she cups Lena's cheek. "Of course not, liefje. But you projected your needs onto her without considering her perspective. You paid the price emotionally when she couldn't return your constructed affections."

Her voice gentles further. "It's understandable to feel shame. People stray searching for understanding during trying times, even if it's misguided. But such things are uncharacteristic for you."

Those piercing blue eyes bore into Lena's again. "So I have to ask - does Brian knowing about Amelie shame you for the affair itself? Or are you afraid of him seeing your vulnerabilities laid bare?"

Lena shoves Angela back, fire in her eyes despite her trembling hands. "Don't shrink me, Angela! I'm not some bloody case study. I cared for Amelie, she didn't feel the same. That's the truth!"

But the memories of Brian's crestfallen eyes and Royal's soul-piercing gaze haunt her.

Waving a dismissive hand, Angela's voice regains its pragmatic edge. "Your feelings for this boy are obvious, not an issue. Just prioritize resolving things with Amelie first. I don't need personal drama complicating matters."

Her tone Brook's no argument now. "We have a meeting with the UN liaison Isaac Bergstrom from PCER tomorrow. I expect you present and professional."

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Today

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"We were somewhere outside Barstow, in the middle of the desert, when the drugs started to take hold," Royal sighs. He brings the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. The menthol flavor coats his tongue, cool and sharp. He releases the smoke slowly, watching it mingle with the clear air before it disappears into the ether.

The sun hangs high overhead, a merciless eye in the cloudless sky. But here, under the small umbrella-like structure erected for smokers, Royal and the intern are blanketed in blessed shade.

"Drugs?" the intern asks. He's a gangly man, all angles and awkward limbs. His dark brown hair is unkempt, almost dented from the headphones he wears. The white shirt clings to him, slicked with sweat from the harsh sun. He leans against the wall beneath the shade, a blue binder hugged to his chest like a shield.

Royal's fingertip taps the cigarette, knocking ash from the burnt end. He watches the small gray flakes fall, drifting slowly down from the skyscraper like miniature meteorites. "Calorplagamedicus," he says, his voice a low rumble. "A heatstroke medicine. Keeps you from going into shock or expending too much water."

He pauses, eyes drifting to the shimmering horizon. "Not exciting, but if you had to deal with the desert with no assurance that rest stops or cities would have supplies... it was hope."

The intern shifts his weight, his shoes scuffing against the concrete. "I can't imagine what a drought would have been like here during the war, sir," he says softly.

"Neither can I," Royal admits. He turns his head towards the intern, but his eyes are distant, focused on something far beyond the city skyline. "I'm from New York. But moved here for this job."

"Ah," the intern nods. "I used to live in Singapore, sir."

Royal's eyebrows rise slightly. "Lucky. Singapore banned omnics, didn't they?"

"After the first crisis," the intern confirms. "It was deemed necessary, sir."

"It isn't the start of something or some judgment," Royal muses. He takes another drag, holds the smoke in his lungs. "If anything, it was a good idea. Ticking time bombs, omnics. Mess with them enough, and they try to rip you limb from limb."

The intern shifts again, discomfort flickering across his face. "My mother had the perspective that they aren't much more dangerous than people. 'Murders are frequent enough,' she said."

Royal lets the smoke trickle out slowly, watching it dissipate in the faint breeze. "Humans don't try to exterminate all life on the planet every 15 years, do they?"

The intern looks out onto the city, a patchwork of old and new, of scars and resilience. "I never had issues with omnics," he admits. "30 years ago, they were considered new. A marvel. I remember our teacher showing a broadcast of the president shaking hands with one when I was in 3rd grade." He pauses, swallows. "But then the crisis happened. Then another. Then another. Then the war."

Royal cocks his head to the side, studying the intern. "Do you know what my first job out of college was?"

"No, sir."

"An underwriter," Royal says, tapping ash off his cigarette again. "Insurance companies hire people who do risk assessment to deduce the value of one's life. It's mostly the type of thing you'd see in a movie. But you take in certain factors. Smoking, drinking, drug use. And you deduce the life insurance payout, or even if you should let someone take out a policy."

He takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers. The ember glows faintly in the shade. "One day, word came down the pipeline that omnic employees were starting to drop the ball on calculations. Numbers wouldn't be calculated correctly. Sometimes the wrong names were attached to files. You get the idea. Eventually, all work done by omnics had to be shifted over to the human employees."

Royal gestures with his cigarette, a ribbon of smoke trailing his movement. "People in the breakroom do what they do. Drink coffee and talk out of their asses about how the calculators can't calculate, and how we have to do more work than we're paid to."

He pauses, his eyes unfocused as if seeing a scene from the past. The city sounds fade - no car horns, no distant chatter. Just the whisper of the wind and his voice. "Eventually, in the office one day, this guy started going on about it to an omnic. And it did what it was supposed to. Apologies, some words of consolation, acting like they can empathize. That whole act."

Royal gestures to his breast pocket, a slow, deliberate movement. "Eventually, the guy laid a hand on it. Wasn't more than a tap. If someone did it to you in the hall, you'd barely notice. But the omnic didn't take it. Returned the tap."

He takes a final drag of the cigarette, lets the smoke curl out of his nostrils. "And the guy returned with a jab. And the omnic returned that too. One punch from it, and the man's jaw flew off and shattered a computer monitor."

Royal stubs out the cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray with more force than necessary. "But you know what it did next?" he asks the now-nervous intern, who begins to fidget, his binder creasing under his tightening grip.

"It went back to normal," Royal says, his voice low. "Just sat back down and went back to work. Even took a phone call when its desk phone rang. Just spoke about some deadline at the end of the week. Even sounded cheery that the bonuses would be granted in a week."

He rises slowly, moving across the concrete rooftop with measured steps. He sinks into a beach chair in the shade, the fabric creaking under his weight. "Took maybe 15 minutes for police to arrive. They had to shoot it." He pauses, letting the words hang in the air. "A month later, the crisis happened."

Royal stretches like a cat, joints popping over the wind. "Anyway," he says, as if he hasn't just narrated a prelude to global catastrophe.

"My second job was on Wall Street, working for a real estate firm," Royal began, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. "After the first crisis, land became a hot commodity. There was a housing crisis, and America had experienced a few of those at the turn of the century, so it boiled down to getting enough guys to make phone calls and sucking up to the S.E.C. When things stabilized, the money was good. I got to wear suits, drive fancy new cars, buy a penthouse, and even had a kid." He paused, his gaze distant. "Did you know that omnics weren't allowed on the stock market floor until '67? A bunch of guys with microphones argued that they'd manipulate the stock market and edge out the little guys. But everyone knew. Whatever a human could do, an omnic could do better. Think, act, fight if they needed to. They were predators, simple as that. Every facet of human existence could be completed using an omnic."

Royal looked out over the city, his expression hardening as he continued. "What do you think of if someone asked you to recall the worst moment of your life? Is it the most embarrassing, the most dangerous? Do you think of that girl in high school who you thought you'd be with forever?"

He fixed his blue eyes on the intern, his stare intense and unyielding. The intern shivered under the weight of Royal's gaze. "I think of the moments I wasn't there for my family. My wife was visiting her parents in Greenwich, and I was still at work when the EMP detonated. A roomful of wise guys were either screaming profanities and shouting in victory or seething in anger. Then I found myself in a silent room. The air conditioning kicked off, the phones stopped, and even the lights shut off. It was dead quiet. A few minutes later, a guy named Bill dropped to the ground, gasping because his pacemaker had shorted out. A few guys went to help him, but real anarchy broke out once the planes started falling from the sky."

Royal raised his hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. "I hate doing the same thing over and over again," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration. "First, it was policies. Then, it was stocks. Now, it's starting peacekeeping initiatives that want nothing more than to see tin cans turned to slag."

The intern's watch beeped, drawing his attention to the small text. "Bergstrom's stuck at the airport. He's going to need you to open up the meeting with the U.N."

Royal closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if trying to draw strength from the air around him. "What's on the itinerary?"

"Discussion of the peacekeeping initiative and the implementation of Caduceus nanobiotic technology into field hospitals."

Royal sat up straighter, his interest piqued. "Peacekeeping. That sounds like Overwatch business. Will the liaison be present?"

The intern flipped through the binder in his hands, scanning the memorandum. "I'm not sure. The liaison mostly deals directly with the U.N. outside of meetings."

Royal shook his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Do you know who's been sent to discuss the Caduceus technology?"

The intern hesitated for a moment. "Dr. Ziegler? The former Overwatch agent, sir." He made a wing gesture with his hand. "The angel one."

Royal nodded, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Understood." He rose from his chair with a sense of purpose. "Time to meet the reason we're in this mess."

The intern followed closely behind, clearly eager to keep up. "Sir, if I might ask, why'd you mention all that?"

Royal paused at the door, turning to look at the intern with a mixture of weariness and determination. "You're going to observe the meeting. Just remember something. I watched an omnic rip apart a man with his bare hands. And I shot down U.N planes during the war to sell them for scrap. And I'm going to advocate for omnic rights and sign some paychecks for U.N peacekeepers."

"Nothing makes any sense." Royal said stepping inside.

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Elsewhere

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Angela taps her foot in rhythm to the dull elevator muzak. Her eyes scan the "P.C.E.R" lettering painted on the back wall as the last bits of Caduceus data transmit to the data pad in her palm.

"The nanomachines are operating at peak efficiency?" she asks, met with a tired huff on the other end.

"Yes, Angela. Everything should work perfectly fine now. The collagen bonding issue is resolved, so next week's test should go swimmingly."

A satisfied smile tugs at Angela's lips. "Perfect. So I just need to present the data to the U.N., and with P.C.E.R.'s approval, we can help so many people."

Audible giddiness laces the assistant's voice. "I'm so proud, doctor."

Angela hums in acknowledgment, adjusting her hair as the elevator dings, signaling its arrival at the 40th floor. "I'm at the meeting room. I'll update you afterward."

"You better, doc!" The assistant's lighthearted laugh rings out before Angela ends the call with a smile, her hand extending outward as the doors part.

Angela smelled cigarettes, Her jaw going slack as Jack Morrison stared down at her.

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PLEASE READ: Authors Note/Looking for beta readers!

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Sorry if this chapter is a bit odd. the fakeout at the beginning had about 8 different drafts but essentially i wanted to make it obvious that Lena's refusal to just be honest about her vulnerabilities regarding being a hero is starting to break her down as there's someone who really doesn't care about those things. too be honest i don't like this chapter we'll go into the importance of Royal's monologue in another chapter.

Also i'm looking for some people who'd be willing to read over some drafts and stuff i'm working on with this story as well as a completely original work i'm currently working on called "Tales From Quanta" the discord i can be reached at is 

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