Micah could smell home before he could even sense it. Their whole neighborhood smelled musty and salty, like fish. He had no idea why. They were nowhere near the ocean and even further from the fish markets. It was just the way it was around here.

    He must've walked a mile, but it felt longer. His limbs were aching and heavy, and his head throbbed unceasingly. Every once in a while, his foot seemed to catch on something, and he found himself stumbling, nearly falling to the ground. If it weren't for his sister's steady, guiding grip, he likely would've gotten a face-full of concrete by now.

    He hated feeling so helpless. Having to rely on someone to help him along. But he reasoned that it was his own fault he was in this state, so he had no grounds to complain. Besides, he was grateful that he hadn't had to sleep on a park bench tonight. Things could've been a lot worse.

    Their walking pace slowed, and Micah tensed, feeling out with his sixth sense to try and detect an obstacle. But there was none. They were just approaching home.

    "Careful up the stairs," Adelaide mumbled in warning. "They're a bit slick."

    He nodded his thanks and picked his way up the steps of the apartment building. He winced as his stiff legs strained, twinging with just enough pain to make the process uncomfortable. He'd done a number on himself.

    He made it to the second floor without much trouble. To the third, too. But upon reaching the fourth, his foot slipped on a little puddle, and he found himself pinwheeling backward.

    "Addie!" He yelped, blindly flailing as he searched for a handhold to steady himself with.

    A hand shot out and grasped his shirt, yanking him forward with a strength that almost had him falling in the other direction. Sure, it would be preferable to falling backwards down the stairs, but he could only take so much before just giving up on trying to stay upright. He latched onto his savior's arm, his heart racing at the close call.

    "I warned you it was slick." Adelaide admonished with a click of her tongue. "Be more careful and listen to me. I'm the hard of hearing one, not you."

    "Oh, very funny." He muttered, having finally caught his balance. "You're a true comedian, Addie. You should go on tour."

    "Are you kidding? There's no way I could." She chuckled. "I'm too busy keeping your sorry ass from dying every five minutes. I would never be able to leave you unsupervised for that long."

    "You say that like I'm not almost a legal adult."

    "Emphasis on almost. You aren't quite there yet, my dear, troublesome child."

    He frowned a bit at that. "Child?" He started to say, but she wasn't finished.

    "Besides, Mikey, when have you ever cared about legality?"

    "Oh, shut up, Addie. You make me sound like some kind of criminal."

    She snorted. "Aren't you, though?"

    "I mean, yeah, but—"

    "Watch the last step." She quickly warned.

    He nearly tripped, overcorrecting his stride in his sudden panic at the tone in her voice. He latched harder onto her arm, steadying himself.

    "God, Addie. You scared me. It's just a step."

    "You always trip over that last step. Don't give me any grief, I was just trying to help."

    He muttered reluctant gratuitous words under his breath, releasing her arm as she pulled away to go open the apartment door. He heard a soft click of the lock releasing, then another as she turned the knob and pulled open the door. He grinned as he sensed a familiar energy signature within perk up at the sound.

    The pair hurried in, shutting the door as Micah's overzealous dog bounded towards them. He bowled into Micah's legs, nearly knocking him over. Micah laughed and reached down, ruffling the fur between the German Shepherd's ears.

    "Hey, buddy." He mumbled. "Missed ya'."

    The dog let out a quiet ruff, his tail wagging violently. He hadn't seen Micah all day, and it was clear that he'd missed the boy. Micah braved a bit of pain to squat down and pet his beloved companion at his level. He winced at the strain in his muscles and the pain in his bruises, but he could take it.

    The happy dog wiggled closer, investigating his boy with his keen nose. Micah grinned a little. He probably smelled like a sewer.

    "Sorry, Mace. I smell gross."

    "Yeah, you do." Addie nudged him, walking off.

    She went off ahead to the kitchen, it sounded like. Of course she had. She did everything there. Cooking, office work, sewing, sleeping. She'd done it all. But for whatever reason, she never ate in it. That, she did in her bedroom.

    "Ignore her." He muttered under his breath to his dog, who looked up at the sound of his voice. "She's just being an asshole."

    The dog let out a cheerful bark, giving Micah's face a wet kiss. The boy sputtered, pushing the dog back at the sudden intrusion.

    "Not the face, Mace! Not the—"

    He was interrupted as his dog finally succeeded in knocking him over and pinning him down, a paw on his chest as he bathed poor Micah's face in saliva. Micah pursed his lips and threw his arms over his face, shaking with suppressed laughter as he struggled to fight off his overexcited canine.

    "Stop, Mace! Down! Off! Jesus, stop licking my face!"

    The dog instantly clambered off of him, stiffly sitting at his side. Micah struggled to sit up, his head spinning as he grinned over at the enthusiastic animal.

    "You know, for a service animal, you don't act very well-trained half the time." Micah chided, reaching over to tap the dog on its nose. "You still act like a puppy."

    Mace let out another soft bark, shoving his nose into the palm of Micah's hand. Micah smiled and gave his snout a little scratch, then dropped his hand again. The dog scooted closer to him, then laid down and plopped his head into Micah's lap. Micah stroked the fur on his back, feeling soothed by the presence of his pet.

    "You're such a mess," Micah muttered, unsure if he was talking to himself or the dog.

    The dog whined softly at his tone, tilting his head to look up at him. Micah smiled down at Mace, ruffling his fur with a bit more energy.

    "I'll take you out to the park tomorrow, Mace. To make up for leaving you here all day."

    The dog's tail thumped on the carpet in happy agreement. Of all the words in his vocabulary, 'park' was certainly his favorite.

    Micah gave his dog some much-needed attention for a bit longer, perfectly content with just sitting there. He had no motivation to move and suffer the aches and pains that came with movement, and he loved spoiling his dog with love and attention. But when his head swam ferociously, he knew it was time to get moving. He didn't want to throw up or pass out in the hallway.

    "Time to get up, buddy." He stood slowly, allowing the dog to spring to his feet as he worked his way to a standing position. "Addie?" He called loudly. "My head is killing me."

    His sister's energy signature appeared at the other end of the hall. "What?"

    "My head hurts." He said lamely.

    She marched towards him. "Then come get medicated, you great big buffoon. Stop playing with your dog and come take care of yourself."

    "Playing with Mace is self-care, Addie."

    "Not the kind that cures concussions." She snorted.

    She dragged him to the kitchen table and plopped him in a chair. He didn't mind letting her lead him around. She definitely knew what she was doing, and he definitely didn't. He knew better than to resist Adelaide when she was trying to take care of him. She had an inherent aspect that so many women had, one that commanded respect and obedience. So he sat quietly, hands folded on the table as he waited for her to return.

    A soft rattling sound caught his attention. His head turned toward it, and he heard her footsteps returning.

    "Prescription pain medication." She announced. "I'm giving you one of these, and you're going straight to bed."

    He held out his hand for the bottle, but she shook her head. "You know the drill."

    He sighed and withdrew his hand. "Fine. Glad to see you trust me."

    "I don't." She said, shaking out a pill. "After last year, I'm not taking any chances. You know I love you, Micah, which is why I'm being careful."

    "No relapses on your watch." He muttered.

    She didn't hear, thankfully. A snide comment like that would've gotten him a prompt smack over the head, concussion or not. The thought had him wincing. He certainly wasn't fond of the idea of more pain.

    "Here you go." She dropped the pill into his palm. "I'll get you water. Don't you dare try to dry-swallow. You'll choke."

    "That's what—"

    "Don't you start." She said warningly. "I will not do the Heimlich on you if you choke over a stupid dirty joke."

    He sighed as she scurried off. "Fine, killjoy."

    "Boy, you're lucky I don't just dump this glass of water over your head with that attitude."

    He held up his hands defensively. "Sorry, sis. Please don't. I'm miserable enough already."

    "Sure you are." She drawled. "But not miserable enough to stop being so goddamn sassy. Seriously, Mike. You're a lost cause. No wonder you get beat up so often. You just can't stop with your little wisecracks."

    "Oh, there's nothing wise about them." He snorted.

    She sighed heavily, returning with a glass full of water. "I know."

    He shook his head, a sideways smile on his face, then popped the pill and downed the glass of water. Refreshed and looking forward to a night free of aches and pains. He set the glass on the table and pushed to his feet.

    "I guess I'm off to bed, then." He announced, stumbling forward.

    But a hand clamped on his shoulder before he got too far, halting him. They stood there for a moment in pure silence.

    Then Adelaide sighed and said: "No, I— Micah, we've got to talk about this. Seriously."

    "We'll talk about it in the morning, Addie. My head hurts, and I'm tired."   

    "Come on, Micah. Don't give that crap. You and I both know we won't talk about it in the morning. I'll be lucky if you don't try and leave the apartment before I wake up altogether. I can't remember the last time we spent a morning eating breakfast together. It's been ages."

    "It's just breakfast, Addie."

    "You know it's more than that. You're avoiding me. You're out on the streets, picking fights, pretending like this isn't just another way to satisfy your need to—"

    "Don't you say it." He growled, jerking his shoulder out of her grip. "This isn't that. I— I fight because I want to. I'm doing what you're doing. Fighting bad guys, right? Why is it when you're out on the streets fighting criminals, you're on God's errand, but when I do it, it's— it's an addiction or some bullsh—."

    "If you did it the right way, within the law—"

    "Yeah, well, I've never done anything within the law. You know that. You just want me to be like you, and I'm not. I'm never going to be some caped crusader. I'd literally rather die."

    "Micah." She said sharply. "You have to change. You're not a mercenary anymore. You aren't working for anyone. You're with me now, and you're safe! Why can't you just try to live a normal life? Take your aggression out on a punching bag, for Christ's sake, not some drunks in an alley. Can't you see that—"

    "No, Addie, I can't 'see'." He drawled. "Forgot already?"

    "Stop that." She snapped. "Stop making excuses. Your little street fights have nothing to do with—"

    "Actually, Adelaide, they have everything to do with it." He snapped right back. "I'm blind now, and I've made my peace with it. But what I haven't made peace with is how horrible of a fighter I've become in the meantime. I spent all that time relearning how to live, but none of it relearning how to fight. And I refuse to go to a hero school to do that. I'd get kicked out in a matter of seconds, anyways. I don't belong there and you know it."

    "No, I don't, and neither do you." She pressed. "You're just making assumptions."

    "And you haven't been?" He shot back.

    They glared at each other, each too stubborn to concede to the other's point. Micah gritted his teeth, absolutely livid at everything they'd finally said. How dare she think this was his new addiction? How dare she assume he could just 'move on' and become some normal kid? Or worse, a hero? She hadn't gone through what he had. She had no idea why he did what he did. And he wasn't about to enlighten her.

    That was his business and his alone.

    "I'm going to bed." He ground out. "Good night."

    Before she could stop him again, he pivoted and marched to his room, his body throbbing as he slammed the door and collapsed against it. Suddenly, he felt so drained. He hated this. He hated fighting with his sister. But worse, he hated everything that had led up to the fight.

    He just couldn't do this. This city was killing him. It was so peaceful and quiet and dull. He craved excitement and danger. He was wired for it. But more so, his heart ached to relive his old life. The life he could never return to, thanks to his sister's dreams of becoming a hero.

    She ruined everything.

    He groaned and instantly banished the wayward thought. She certainly hadn't. She'd saved him from an abusive, horrible situation. That's what she had done. As much as he longed for the thrills of his past, he certainly didn't miss the pain and punishment that had come along with it.

    It's her fault that you're blind and your brother is—

    He shook his head, forcing the next horrible thought away. He couldn't seem to stop them, lately, and it was eating him up inside. He didn't need this. His relationship with her was already testy, what with all the crimes he'd committed lately and her status as a hero technically requiring her to arrest him for them. She hadn't yet, but he was just waiting to cross that line someday.

    He itched at the side of his face, just beside the scars on his eyes. His mood, which had already started off rather low today, had only sunk further. His dreary surroundings, his constant bickering at home, his seeming lack of purpose. It was all adding up, weighing him down. What was the point, anymore? He certainly didn't know.

    His hand dropped from his face, his fingers digging into his arm.

    That was why he went out to fight. Fighting was the one thing he knew he could do. It had been his purpose his whole life, but now? Without his sight? Even with his sixth sense, it was damn near impossible for him to get back to where he had been. He would never be excellent again. He'd be lucky if he was subpar. He was chasing an impossible dream. It never felt like a fight for him.

    It felt like a punishment.

    Punishment for being such a failure.

    A soft whining at the other side of the door startled him from his heavy thoughts. He belatedly noticed the stinging pricks of pain in his arm as his nails dug into his skin and released himself, massaging the sore spot. What was he doing? He already hurt badly enough.

    He scooted out of the way of the door and cracked it open, letting in his beloved dog. Mace squeezed through the crack, flopping into Micah's lap. Micah quickly shut the door again, locking it, then leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh. At least he could rely on Mace to never judge him. The dog loved him, no matter what he did. Good or bad.

    "What did I do to deserve a dog like you?" He muttered, scratching the canine's back.

    Mace's tail thumped on the floor, but he otherwise remained still, detecting his boy's blue mood. He gave Micah's arm a comforting lick, whining quietly. Micah couldn't muster a smile. He didn't have the energy to.

    "I should probably go to bed, huh, boy?" He ran his fingers through the dog's fur.

    The dog let out a little yip at the sound of his voice, stretching and scampering off his lap. Micah followed suit, pushing up to his feet and lumbering over to his bed. He sat heavily on it, flopping backward. Mace leapt up with him, curling at the boy's side, his head rested on Micah's chest. Micah reached up to fluff the fur between his ears.

    He shut his eyes, fully intending to sleep, but also fully aware that sleep likely wouldn't come for a very long time. It rarely did. Images swam in the darkness as he tried to clear his mind and rest, images that only rose up when he didn't actively block them out. Memories. Horrible memories.

    Sounds of shouting, crashes, and screams.

    Blood. His blood.

    His brother, crying his name, his voice breaking with desperation.

    Pain and suffering.

    He shuddered, opening his eyes again. Still, all was dark. But he threw up the walls in his mind, and it all went away. Tucked into the far corners of his subconsciousness. Of course he'd remember that. Of all the terrible memories he had, that was the one his mind loved to torture him with.

    It was the day everything had changed. The day he'd lost it all, save for Adelaide.

    He carefully maneuvered his now-sleeping dog off his chest and moved to the edge of the bed, his face stretching in a massive yawn. God, he was tired. But he couldn't sleep. Not if he knew just what nightmares he'd be plagued with the moment he let his guard down.

    No, after today, he wasn't just going to go to bed. He had to do something.

    A slight whisper of wind whistled through the screen of his open window, sending chills down his spine. He turned to face it, lamenting, as always, that he was so high up. It would be a perfect window for sneaking out if it had been on the bottom floor. He strolled over to it, sitting in the chair he left by it for nights like these.

    He wished he could see the night sky. He knew he wouldn't see much of one, in a city like this, or in weather like this, but... he missed stargazing. He missed sitting on the roof with the ones he loved and counting the stars in the sky. He missed joking about horoscopes and telling widely altered versions of the ancient myths of the constellations.

    He missed his brother. And Ben, wherever she was. His first friend in the real world, outside of all of the mercenary nonsense. He hoped that she was safe. He'd tried to contact her, but to no avail. She was gone.

    He sighed and traced a design in the dust on his windowsill, doing his best to reorder his thoughts. Thinking of her, of Matthew, was dangerous territory. Too close to that memory that haunted his dreams. Better to think of the future. Not the friends and family he'd left behind when he ran away with Addie.

    He froze. That was it.

    Not a solution to his problems, necessarily. But a way to find a solution.

    Adelaide had gotten her clean break. Her rebirth into a new life of her own design. He needed that too. But he wasn't going to find that here, just as she hadn't been able to find that back in Amberchase. He knew what he needed to do. And his sister wasn't going to like it.

    Which is why he wasn't going to tell her.

    By the time she found out what he planned... it would be far too late.