The first time Jeremy caught Myles lying to him about where he was sneaking out to, he didn’t call him out on it. He was working on this whole trust thing—giving Myles some space and hoping he was doing the right thing.

Myles wasn’t acting strangely, he had just been gone. That alone wasn’t such a bad thing—and, given the time of year, he suspected Myles was doing some Holiday shopping or something.

The second time Myles lied about where he was, he was limping. That, Jeremy called him out on, but Myles had insisted he’d just fallen off the stage.

A reasonable lie, but Jeremy’s instinct told him something wasn’t right.

He’d been suspicious for a while and had gotten a little extra overbearing. Myles was a good sport about it, but Jeremy could see that he was starting to sweat a bit over all of it.

The idea convinced Jeremy that if Myles was up to any wrong doing, he’d come clean about it soon—or stop, out of guilt.

But Myles didn’t confess. He kept disappearing for a few hours a night, a few times a week.

Jeremy couldn’t take any more of it.

He lied about taking on a shift one night—got all dressed up in his uniform, made a big show about leaving—and then he hid in his car.

He hoped he was just wasting his night off, hoped that Myles was going to just stay upstairs and watch television and fall asleep on the couch and stay put.

Jeremy was used to not getting what he wanted, though.

Only fifteen minutes after he’d left, Myles came downstairs and exited the apartment. He didn’t seem suspicious or strangely dressed; he was wearing just sneakers, jeans, and a jacket. He walked at a fairly normal pace—only, in a direction that didn’t quite make sense to Jeremy.

If Myles was heading towards the little diner or coffee shop just down the block, that would have been fine. Instead, he went in the opposite direction. There were residential areas, though it wasn’t really a great location. There were plenty of unsavory characters lurking in the shadows and that was enough to make Jeremy mutter under his breath.

Myles, what are you doing?

A part of him didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to see Myles make the same mistakes he’d been making years ago. He didn’t want to deal with that again.

His stomach felt like it was full of rocks and, just before Myles turned a corner and disappeared, he climbed out of his car to trail him.

For a little over three minutes, he trailed his brother. Myles avoided the dark alleyways, stayed across the street from vagrants, avoided the little groups that had gathered.

Jeremy was almost able to deceive himself into thinking Myles was taking a walk. A foolishly plotted walk, but a walk all the same.

And then he disappeared into a construction zone.

Trespassing, probably, Jeremy noted, but he followed suit immediately afterwards. Another apartment complex was being erected in the area; right now it was a mess of steel beams and half finished floors. The wind whistled eerily through it and Jeremy was certain he could hear the scrambling of little rodents.

This wasn’t any place Myles should be walking through.

He heard a metallic thud around the corner; instinctively his hand went to his gun. He withdrew it, expecting the worst. He heard a voice that sounded like Myles, and the sound of things crashing together.

Jeremy turned the corner, gun out and pointed. There was movement and color so he shouted, “Freeze!”

The man across from him froze—immediately. He was wearing a strange outfit—one of he gang members, probably. Jeremy cared less about that and more about the fact that Myles was gone.

“Turn around, hands up,” he instructed, and the stranger in front of him quickly shuffled to obey. Quickly and compliantly, but guns had a habit of making people react either much better or much worse.

“Jeremy!” the man exclaimed, knocking his attention back to the man.

This man who he did not recognize, who had identified him by name. Not ‘Officer Fischer’—Jeremy.

Caia knew he’d messed up. The expression was clear on his face as he stared at Jeremy—called him by name.

“Excuse me?” Jeremy replied, voice tense with anger.

“Please put that down,” Caia said quickly. “This isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“Isn’t what it looks like? What the hell does this look like?”

Caia swallowed. “Jeremy, please, put the gun away, I can’t think with it pointing at me.”

Truthfully, Jeremy didn’t care—not when he still had no idea where his brother was. “Where is he?” he demanded, gun still aimed.

“What?” Caia blurted, brows knit with worry. “There’s no one here, it’s just me.”

“Where’s Myles?” Jeremy clarified, voice even and steely.

There was a lump in Caia’s throat and he didn’t think words could describe how uncomfortable he was. “I’m right here,” he began, only Jeremy interrupted him quickly with a harsh, “Bullshit.”

There was a glamour in place, Caia knew—to keep him safe from enemies. Of course Jeremy wouldn’t recognize him. All Jeremy saw was Caia.

Or, rather, he must have seen Myles come here—where he usually came to power up. Quiet, away from the house, out of the way.

He wanted to lie, desperately, but staring down the barrel of a gun gave him less courage to do so. “I-I was making a bowl of cereal when you left, you said you picked up a shift. You said Jameson called out, and you had a Hot Pocket for dinner, and you told me to do the dishes before bed.”

Which was all true; Jeremy had said all of those things.

To Myles.

The gun lowered just slightly but his eyes narrowed. “What—did you bug my place or something?”

“No! You told me no one could do that!”

Okay. True, he said that to Myles, once, after a bout of feverish dreams.

Jeremy had seen a lot of things that didn’t make sense, and being told he was your brother by a man wearing a different face than the one you’d grown up knowing was just odd. Destiny City itself was odd. He wasn’t quite humoring the man, but there was a part of him that wanted to know where he was going.

There was a part of Jeremy that already knew the truth, even if the rest of him was still in denial. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing to the uniform he was wearing.

“I—It’s a Senshi uniform, Jeremy.”

“One of the gangs,” Jeremy pressed.

“No! Not gangs! We—I do this, and I protect people and I keep them safe. Like you!”

“No,” Jeremy argued. “No, I went to school to become a police officer—I didn’t just decide one day to wear some silly outfit and call myself some fancy name.”

“That’s not what this is,” Caia protested, defensive and desperate. “I didn’t choose this—a Cat came up to me and said that—"

Jeremy interrupted, “A Cat? Seriously? Myles, what the hell are you on? We talked about this, you promised me—”

“I’m telling the truth!”

Jeremy shook his head. “A talking cat? A talking cat? Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

“It’s the truth, Jeremy! You should know—you see all these weird things, all the time, why can’t you just trust me?”

“Because you’ve been sneaking out, lying to me—why should I trust anything that’s coming out of your mouth right now?”

Caia might not have looked like Myles, but he had a way of mimicking his expressions that sent a sensation of dread through Jeremy. His skin had gone cold and it felt like his body was leaden. His mind felt like gears, suddenly stuck and desperately grinding against each other.

Caia looked betrayed though held a faint determination. “I knew you’d act like this. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d get mad at me. But I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“Trespassing isn’t wrong? You know how dangerous gangs are, I tell you all the time. You’ve been fighting, have you? Is that why you come home limping, trying to hide the bruises?” Myles was clumsy, Jeremy knew that, but he liked to think he could tell the difference between when Myles hurt himself and when someone else hurt him. Jeremy grit his teeth and continued, “What about the destruction of city property? What about the murders?”

“I don’t do those things, I don’t do bad things,” Caia protested. Jeremy lowered the gun but it didn’t make it any easier for him to talk, not with the cold scowl directed towards him. “I just—It’s a superhero thing, Jeremy. I’ll explain it all if you just give me—”

“Myles.”

Jeremy’s face was dark; he was angry, in a way that surpassed blind rage. He hadn’t been angry at Myles like this in a long, long time. It was enough to shut Caia up; he didn’t dare to interrupt him. Jeremy put the safety back on his gun and slid it into the holster on his hip.

He continued speaking, slowly, “Of everyone I know you are by far the least qualified to be a superhero of any sort.”

It hurt, a bit. Jeremy could see it on the stranger’s—Myles’s—face. He could see the look of disappointment, betrayal.

It extended more than just expressions, though; Caia’s limbs felt numb. He was cold and clammy and felt like he was naked in a room full of people laughing at him.

“Jeremy,” he tried after a few seconds of silence.

Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t care. I really, really don’t care, Myles. I’m so disappointed in you. I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

Caia swallowed the lump in his throat and took a hesitant step forward, but Jeremy shook his head—a silent warning to stay put. “I didn’t do this to hurt you,” he said, trying to push through the lump in his throat. His voice sounded like a weak croak and he tried to sound more confident. He failed, but he tried. “I just wanted to help.”

“If you wanted to help, you should have stayed home and focused on school. You don’t need to be out here, you don’t need to be listening to whatever lies these people have been telling you. Take that—take that stupid outfit off, Myles. I can’t even look at you.”

Caia swallowed and opened his mouth to protest, but he’d given up before he even tried. He powered down while Jeremy was shaking his head and glowering off into the shadows.

“I’m sorry,” Myles said softly, wringing his hands together in front of him.

Jeremy turned to say something scathing, though seeing Myles there stalled him for a second. He was looking at his brother.

His brother was just wearing that. His brother was involved with them.

“Give them to me.”

Myles blinked. “What?”

“The clothes. Give them to me. You’re done with this.”

Myles faltered. I don’t—I don’t have…it doesn’t work like that, I just have this,” he said, hesitantly presenting the pen he’d been given.

Jeremy didn’t seem to be satisfied with that but he crossed the distance between them and snatched it up, anyway. “You’re done, Myles. I’m not doing this again. You’re going to go home, and you’re going to stay there. I’m not going to let you throw your life away like this.”

The intent was good, Myles knew that. But he also knew that Jeremy was incredibly unrealistic and stubborn and rude and insensitive. He couldn’t stand up to him. Jeremy had always been his rock—someone he relied on, and who he trusted.

He didn’t always like the things that Jeremy said, but he knew they were for the best.

Usually.

This, he agreed with.

He knew how bad the Negaverse could be. He knew how important it was to fight them.

He knew what quitting might mean for Destiny City. For his friends.

“Jeremy,” he protested softly, but his brother cut him off before he could provide an argument.

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care if you’re sorry, I don’t care if you thought you were doing something right. I told you I wasn’t going to let you get involved in any s**t—that was the whole point of me bringing you in, taking care of you, helping you get your life straightened out. And this is how you repaid me? What were you going to do when you got arrested, hauled in? What was I going to do when I had to go pick you out of a morgue?”

Myles bit his lip and tried to draw in a breath, tried to force himself to stay calm. He could feel warmth in his eyes but he didn’t focus on them. “I have friends. We work together.”

“No, you don’t. Those people aren’t your friends. None of them would let you do this if they knew how dangerous it was. This is reckless, and stupid, and it ends now. I’m keeping this,” he said, holding the pen up for Myles to see before he shoved it into his pocket.

A look of concern passed over Myles’ face. “Jeremy, you don’t understand, you can’t do that.”

“I can, and I have. This isn’t negotiable. I’m taking you home, Myles.”

Pleadingly, Myles looked at him. “You aren’t listening.”

“I don’t have to, Myles. You brought this on yourself. You should have just ******** talked to me.” He reached over and grabbed Myles by the elbow, jerking him towards the archway they’d come in through.

He hadn’t expected Myles to pull away so suddenly, or to turn and look at his brother’s wide eyed expression.

He knew that look.

He knew what the bent legs meant.

He knew that he had one chance to grab Myles before he bolted—and he missed.

Myles slid by him with a dexterity he shouldn’t have expected from a man who looked like he’d tripped over himself and knocked over a stack of boxes just before Jeremy had caught him. Jeremy had hope that Myles’ clumsiness would slow him down but it didn’t; Myles had the advantage of long legs and an adrenaline boost that was only just blossoming in Jeremy.

By the time Jeremy made it out of the building, Myles was halfway down the street—and though Jeremy was fast, Myles was faster.

Jeremy was stubborn enough to shout after him and try to catch him, but Myles had disappeared around a corner and by the time Jeremy reached it—only seconds later—he was gone.

Jeremy swore; he stomped around the area and called his name, and when he was met with only silence, he kicked over a trashcan and a stack of boxes.

He was brimming with anger and pulled out his phone; he called Myles. The first time it rang and went to voicemail. He couldn’t hear any ringing in the area so he had to assume that Myles wasn’t nearby. He headed down the next street and called again—only, this time the phone went straight to voicemail.

The anger had yet to subside, but a new emotion was rolling in; he felt guilty. He was trembling in anger and worry. Myles wasn’t supposed to do things like this, he was better than this. He shouldn’t have been in some gang, he shouldn’t have been fighting.

He shouldn’t have been keeping secrets.

He shouldn’t have run.

But then, Jeremy shouldn’t have yelled. Not like this. He should have known better—no matter how mad he was.

Yelling, screaming, demanding.

That was something his father would have done. It wasn’t something Jeremy should have done.

He swore under his breath once more and hung his head; desperation was slowly filling in.

He’d messed up. He’d messed this all up,

Whatever Myles had done before wasn’t as bad as what he could do, especially if he thought Jeremy was mad at him. Especially if he thought he was alone.

He was mad—furious—at everything.

But he was worried more than anything else.

He had to find Myles before he got hurt.