“Easy, soldier, easy. I’m not getting in your way. He’s just tired, that’s all.” Marshall relinquished his hold and allowed Fourteen to take Cym from him.

Jack kneeled and took Marshall’s hand in his. He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze at Cym before turning back to Marshall and asking, “Cym did all of that?”

“He could have done twice that much and been fine. And don’t worry,” Marshall said as Adelle crouched to touch his other hand. “I’m not going to fade. Cym tapped into his stillbringer power before I had a chance to do something stupid.”

“Stupid, huh? Sounds like you.” Jack punched Marshall’s arm none-too-gently then turned to Cym, who was busy getting manhandled by Fourteen who seemed convinced Cym was sporting numerous secret injuries. “Good for you, I had a feeling you were special.”

“I knew he was,” Adelle said. Even after being in the middle of a warzone, she was the epitome of calm and far better groomed than she had any right to be. “Thank you for rescuing my brother from himself.”

Cym pressed his face against the now-familiar buzz of Fourteen’s jacket and said, “He wouldn’t have had to be here if it wasn’t for me.”

The stillness had receded from him entirely now. With its departure, all of Cym’s old insecurities had returned. Only a small, quiet part of him could remember now that they were merely illusions. It seemed like something he should explore further at some point, but for right now, he had a hard-earned snuggle he’d been promising himself.

“It’s our job to be here, and from where I’m sitting, you’re worth it,” Adelle said just a touch too forcefully. “Your family has a lot to answer for. Where is Elanor? Did she survive?”

Did Cym want her to have survived? He didn’t have the first clue. Before he could get too emotionally involved in the issue, he heard Jack say, “Over here.”

Cym stayed put and watched as Jack and Adelle went over to inspect a shivering mess of a human.

Jack poked her with a toe. “She’s alive,” Jack smirked and poked her again. “Look at you, you great big lump. You got away with being a sack of garbage for a long time, didn’t you?”

Hester didn’t move, or answer, but from where Cym stood, he could see her staring up at Jack and Adelle in terror.

Adelle pulled Jack away when it looked like he was going to continue poking Hester. “Stop it, dork, or the new Blaike patriarch is going to think you’re unprofessional.”

“The new what now?” Cym blurted. They weren’t talking about him, were they? No fucking way. Cym was a walking disaster disguised as a human being and should never be put in charge of anything larger than a decision involving dinner options.

He threw a panicked look at Fourteen and realized that Fourteen wasn’t following the conversation at all. Instead, he was looking at Cym like he was the only person there.

All of the exhaustion and stress slammed down on Cym at once. Fuck closure; Cym just wanted to leave. “Can you get me out of here?” he whispered to Fourteen.

Instead of answering, Fourteen simply turned and walked away with Cym in his arms.

“Hold up, Stillbringer,” Marshall called out in a tired voice.

Fourteen didn’t pause, but Cym tapped his chest and said, “Can you hang on a second and turn us around, please?”

Cym made sure to not make any statement to Fourteen that could be interpreted as a command. He’d already fucked up big time when he’d ordered Fourteen to retreat, and he didn’t want to make it worse. From now on, he was only asking Fourteen to do things until the man had his own autonomy back.

Fourteen complied wordlessly, but there was a glint of irritation in his eyes that told Cym he wasn’t being rolled by Cym’s handler status over him. He was complying reluctantly because he chose to.

Once they reached Marshall, Cym announced, “Marshall, if you call me Stillbringer one more time without explaining what it means, I am going to go fucking feral on you.”

“Later, short stack. Let’s deal with this crap bag first,” Jack called, giving Hester one final poke before allowing Adelle to drag him out of poking range.

“Ugh. Fine.” Apparently, Cym was getting closure whether he wanted it or not. “Can you put me down?” Cym whispered. He realized he was petting Fourteen like he was a comfort animal, and he forced himself to stop.

“No.”

“I’m not going to run away again.”

“Still no.”

“No one is going to respect me if I’m getting carried around like a spoiled little prince,” Cym hissed. He was trying to keep their little squabble private, but Fourteen wasn’t making it easy.

“Suck it up.”

Cym huffed and then turned back to the Hester situation and proceeded to act like he was perfectly happy to use Fourteen as a lounge chair and that he’d planned to do so all along. “You can take us over there when ready.” He waved toward Hester.

Fourteen gave a soft sound that could have been a laugh to an optimistic observer and carried Cym over to stand with Jack and Adelle. After a moment, they were joined by a weary but satisfied looking Marshall.

“Sure must be nice to have a human chariot. I could go for one of those right about now,” Marshall said.

“Don’t look at me, asshole,” Adelle said in a snotty tone and flicked her hair. “I only carry people who don’t try to get themselves killed on a regular basis.”

Jack just smiled at him with mischief in his eyes and said, “Any time, pookie,” and threw Marshall a wink.

Marshall gave him a helpless little laugh. “You’re both useless.”

Cym could tell from Marshall’s tone that he didn’t mean it at all, and that he probably loved both of his teammates more than his own life. Cym’s gut twisted in envy before he looked up at Fourteen as covertly as possible. Would it be possible for him to have something like this with Fourteen?

Marshall’s fond expression faded, and he pulled on an air of responsibility so abruptly Cym was startled. “All right Hester, enough putting this off. I’ve got more than enough authority and reason to cut you from the Source right here, but I’ll give you your say before I sentence you.”

Cym made a little wow shape with his mouth. Where the hell did the gentle, easy-going man Cym had met earlier go? If Marshall was directing that energy at him he’d be attempting to crawl inside Fourteen and never come out again.

Jack stood smirking cockily beside him and Adelle bracketed Marshall on his other side, looking like she was a loyal guard dog poised and ready to eagerly obey the order to kill the moment Marshall gave the command.

What the shit? Guardians didn’t fuck around, did they?

Cym’s hand began to pet Fourteen again without his permission, and he went to pull his hand away but stopped when Fourteen juggled Cym around enough to free one hand and place Cym’s hand back on his chest. Fourteen stayed silent the entire time, but he’d made his feelings loud and clear.

Cym shrugged and whispered, “Fine by me. I’m more than happy to treat you as my personal stress toy.” He went back to stroking Fourteen’s leather-covered pecs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Hester was muttering something under her breath that sounded like monster, but Cym didn’t catch the rest.

“Excuse me, Hester, can you say that a little louder for the kids in the back of the classroom?” Jack’s words were light, but his tone made Cym think she’d said something nasty.

“I said, you’ve still got one more monster to kill, Guardian. If you’re so excited about your self-righteous quest to rid the Real of monsters, don’t ignore the one at your back.” Hester spat in Cym’s direction. “Just because he’s small and pretty doesn’t mean he’s not just as dangerous as Sekt is… was.” Her voice wobbled and her vitriolic diatribe trailed away awkwardly.

“Oh yes. He’s definitely dead.” Marshall walked around Adelle and kneeled down next to another body Cym hadn’t noticed. When Marshall turned it over, Cym saw the lifeless eyes of his aunt Stella staring up at the sky. Motes of shimmering glitter drifted up from her body, and it was an oddly beautiful, if gruesome sight as it sparkled in the firelight.

“Then get on with it and kill the other monster before you sentence me. I’m still the Blaike matriarch, and I have the right to request justice for my family before I go.”

“Justice? What could a nineteen-year-old kid who’s spent most of his life locked away possibly have done to deserve a call for family justice?” Marshall’s voice was more amused than anything, and Cym had a feeling he was putting on a show for Cym to make up for killing Sekt before he could get his closure.

Marinating in Marshall’s soul for the better part of an hour had apparently given Cym some insight into how the man worked.

“He’s not a kid,” Fourteen said in a sullen tone.