Happens after Still See the Tear and concurrent to Courtesy Call

He had already met quota for this period. There was an extra, unplanned, unaccounted for orb of energy between his fingers and palm. It hovered, thrummed, and dwelt there as long as the same habit-memory that let him get up on a bicycle after eight years (if he could find one to bear his weight) kept up the hind-awareness concentration to control the thing. September could do without it. The dancers could use the hours of rest where the police would examine the location and take statements. At the very least the company wouldn't be doing anything until the day follow, if that. It would probably just be individual, self-directed practices for those who couldn't handle a day off. All the trauma of an 'attack' that probably ammounted to a 24 hour reprieve. And then life went on. Businesses still had to turn a profit, people still had to go to work, and the war had lasted long enough that it was about as noteworthy a menace as the violent crimes that happened daily on the streets of any other city. It was like the competition between Detroit and New Orleans for the crown of most murders in the nation.

Titan walked. There were no other aura's near. Major metropolitan areas were large, as large as the nightmare of the Rift, with enough cross streets and vertical paths that handfuls of miles extended into tens of them. Agents, senshi and knights came and went in cycles of being regularly present on patrol, but never enough that it was guaranteed to meet anyone else. After bearing Colin in near collapse in his arms, the Captain didn't want to meet anyone else- a preference that made street level a poor choice. He leapt up to the rooftops, then up further and furthe rto observatory decks more towards the skyscrapers of downtown. He stopped at a billboard left over from the 1960s, with its small walkway and bright lights proclaiming something about Abercrombie & Fitch with disembodied washboard stomach and pants waistline of a specimen male. Titan walked around to the unlit side, where it was cooler and less innundated with moths trying to find the false moon. The grate walkway and rust groaned, but held, and Titan sat down.

He drew up his knees. The stolen costume piece was brought up from belt and folded into a rough pillow shape, then put between kneels and forheard. Curled in so that the world was gone, and scent was near, it was almost like a year before. It was almost like that brief home, mattress on the hardwood with stupid pictures and white christmas lights tacked to the wall, with Colin near in the morning. Please Dont Stop the Music, by Rihanna, broke the peace. It took a few seconds of panic and pat down before the cellphone was produced and answered.

Colin? Colin is calling Björn. me. Colin called me?. "Hallo?"

Second past feeling like months. A voice, soft but very distinct and sharp finally sounded- "******** call ended. The flashing number of paltry seconds held his attention until the phone autoreturned to the gradient, unpersonalized home screen. He called me. Months on, he has my number. He is worried, maybe afraid, in pain and in no good condition, because of me. But he doesn't know it was me. Gods above, or Earth, if you have ears...please. I don't know what to ask. What prayers matter anymore? Protect him. Give him a road to happiness again. Give him safety. He cannot see to pray for himself. He does not even eat for himself. Too little tofu.

He sat the phone beside to keep over-eager, ove-idle fingers silent as Colin's call had been. They wanted to dial him back- there was no other connection remaining. No known address, a schedule based 4 months prior and unknown numbers of shows between, friends unknown or preferences of place to be. Colin was at once wholly foreign and wholly familiar. The man had moved into a different life, but was waning with too much connection uncut to the old. Uncut wasn't right. Still wounded and bleeding. Bandages were there, but the wound wasn't stitched or healed, and Colin must still pick it open to bleed anew and often. What can I do? Blackened hands cannot till soil. I did badly to go as is. He will hear of it. He called me.

He called me for help and hung up.
I was there, Colin. The only help I offered was the hurt itself. The first wound, and the fear now.
If he was calling me, he is not alright. I know that. It isn't a question. The question is how not alright. If I called him back, would he answer? He hung up after I'd already answered. No, he would not answer. It would hurt him to call him.

The answer of what Captain Titan should be doing with his time or the extra energy ball had become a zero sum. Turning in the excess energy was too helpful and also too unusual to his routine. He didn't want to help the Negaverse any more than was necessary to save the lives of those he'd personally put in danger. He pulled out the energy orb and set it next to the phone on the grate walkway. Then it dissipated.

It cannot keep on this way. Has it been long enough? Can I finish what I started? Will it really help Colin, to see the answer and end? Should i just disappear without the note the same as every other victim? I don't know anymore. The waiting already is not good. He's not good. Is it as much trouble to Hvergelmir? Kairatos? I must trust them.
My heart is getting more and more clouded. I cannot trust myself, the black. I must trust them. I know I can trust them. I know I can trust the Earth. I have to trust Colin, too.