Reggie Rowe knew fear. He was a cop, after all. He'd been through a few tough situations. Been hit, stabbed, punched, shot. Sometimes he worried, perhaps for vanity's sake, that he'd end up with a few too many scars. But, for all his fistfights and gunfights and worries, he couldn't remember ever being afraid that he was going to die.

And yet. Delsin's face - that terrible, pained look - hurt Reggie more than the ice crystallizing on his cheeks, more than the way his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. There was only one other time he'd seen that look on his brother's face. It was the day their parents died. Then he got that look, of utter suffering and torment, the look of someone having their heart ripped from their chest and shredded.

As Reggie sank to the bottom of the ocean, he heard the muffled sound of explosions and screaming coming from the surface. As the water ripped above him, light shone through, the orange and yellow glow of flames and sparks. Reggie's eyes fell shut. Delsin was fighting for him. Delsin wouldn't let his death go without vengeance.

Distantly, Reggie wondered if a person could cry underwater.

His chest panged, and his whole body twisted in miserable agony. He opened his mouth to scream, but a cascade of bubbles rose from his lips instead. He knew he had to die, he knew it. He knew Delsin was too stubborn to let go, and he knew that if he hadn't released his brother's arm, then they'd both be trapped here, drowning and cold. He knew it was the right thing to do. But he couldn't stop screaming.

Within his concrete shell, Reggie pulled his limbs together, curling into the fetal position as best he could as his last bubbles of air escaped him. He clutched at his clothes with freezing hands, and the further he drifted from the surface, the darker it became, until he couldn't tell when his eyes were open and when they weren't.

And so Reggie Rowe awaited death.

It all happened so fast.

Augustine, fleeing before he could finish her. Him, Fetch and Eugene, ascending Augustine's tower and crashing through the window at the top. Watching her tower fall. At the time, Delsin knew he had to press the advantage, had to push onward while the fire still burned in his chest. He had to finish this before the flames turned to tears. So he did. He fought, lost, followed her, fought again, and won. And as the sun rose over Seattle that night, Delsin fell into a deep and fitful sleep.

He didn't say anything to his friends. Just got up and took a bus to the tribe. He remembered plastering on a blank, numb expression, and just walking through the Longhouse, pulling concrete from people's legs without a word. He remembered Betty's face when he healed her, and then the way she looked at him when he told her Reggie was dead. After that, when he could no longer stand the drowning waves of pity from everyone else, he said he still had business in Seattle.

Then he went back to his apartment, in Seattle, and fell asleep again.

Now he woke up to a high-risen sun, and the sounds of people walking back and forth along the sidewalk below his second-story window. He could hear Fetch and Eugene talking lowly in the other room. Life, it seems, went on, without paying attention to him in the slightest.

He stood and went to the window, watching the people and families milling about outside. Did they know? he wondered. Did they understand? Could anyone understand? How could so many people go on with their lives, totally oblivious to what he'd lost and what he'd been through? Or even- even what they had lost? Did they understand the depths of their oppression? Did they know that, without him, they'd probably still be going through thumbprint checkpoints and assuring heavily armored officers that, no, their children weren't terrorists?

Did they understand the cost of a normal life?

The young man stepped away from the window and laid back on the bed. At the back of his mind, he remembered that rent would be due soon. It felt comically domestic. "Yeah, I'm the smoke guy, neon guy, angel guy, and - oh right, concrete guy. I just saved America from becoming a police state under the thumb of an authoritarian militia that had everyone convinced that a terrorist attack was just around the corner. Is that five or six hundred I owe you?"

Delsin groaned softly and sat up. A hand drifted down his chest, checking the pins on his jacket. He hadn't bothered to change clothes for a few days. Just floated from place to place and bed to bed like a ghost. Probably for the best. Getting dressed, changing clothes, leaving behind the scent of saltwater and blood - if felt like a crime. It felt like choosing to leave Reggie behind, and he couldn't bear that.

Heat pressed at the back of his eyes, making his throat tighten and his fingers curl into the fabric of his jeans. His knuckles shone white as he grit his teeth, choking back tears. He couldn't cry. Could he? He didn't know why he shouldn't. Except, Fetch and Eugene were in the other room, though. He couldn't stand the thought of them coming in, seeing him like this. Seeing him cry.

He shook off his emotions, staggering to his feet and going back to the window, sight blurred by tears. Why was he here? Why had he come back to Seattle? To get away from the tribe? That couldn't be it. That couldn't be the whole reason. What was his excuse? What did he want to happen?

Then, unbidden, he thought: He wanted to see Reggie again.

A soft cry escaped his lips, muffled by the hand he jerked up to stifle it. Reggie had been all the family he had left. Not counting the tribe, but... the tribe was different. Reggie was his brother. The uptight, stoic, hardass, boring, responsible counterweight to Delsin's unconventional nature. Sometimes he swore he could punch Reggie in the face and not regret it, but they were still brothers. Despite their differences, never once had Delsin dared to imagine a life without him.

Delsin pressed his eyes tight and wiped away the small, rebellious tears that threatened to fall. He didn't want to grieve. He didn't want a funeral, he didn't want to think, he didn't want to pretend that this was the new normal and that everything was going to be fine. He couldn't deal with this. He just wanted to go to sleep. He didn't want to die, he just - he just wanted to stop existing for a while.

The more he thought, the more Delsin's heart ached. He pulled himself together and adjusted his jacket, smoothing out his expression. He'd never been very good at concealing his emotions, but maybe if he concentrated on the numbness in his chest he wouldn't have to. He emerged from his bedroom and staggered out towards the kitchen, stifling a wince as Fetch and Eugene caught sight of him.

The woman spoke first. "Hey," she offered, her voice soft. "How ya doin', D?"

"Fine," Delsin rasped.

Eugene and Fetch shared a look. "We, uh," Eugene stammered. "We l-let you sleep in."

Delsin nodded blankly, offering no verbal response. "You wanna go out today?" Fetch prodded. The pink in her hair grew a little brighter, her tense emotions making her power flicker. "Maybe go for a walk?"

"No." At last, the older man looked away and arrived at the kitchen. In the fridge, a cereal box and a carton of milk beckoned to him. He served himself a bowl of Cheerios and just stood beside the kitchen counter, staring off into space as his hand mechanically lifted his spoon to his lips.

Behind him, he heard Eugene's careful steps as the geek shuffled into the room. Without looking, Delsin knew the kid's position. Hunched over, shoulders up to his ears, hands in his pockets, trying to make himself as small as possible. "H-Hey, Delsin?"

"What."

He sensed Eugene's flinch. "I-I just, I wanted to say...or see if you were..."

See if you were okay. Delsin held in a sigh. "... No."

He let the spoon clink against the bowl as he set the dish on the counter, the motions sounding too loud in the silent room. Eugene stayed still for a few moments. Then, without warning, he threw himself at Delsin's back, burying his face between the older man's shoulderblades and clutching his arms around Delsin's sides. Delsin turned, surprised, and lifted one arm to hug Eugene to his side.

"I'm sorry, Delsin," Eugene said, voice muffled by Delsin's jacket. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

Delsin faltered, and trembled. He turned completely and let his arms curl around the teen, hugging Eugene to him as tightly as he could. Water rose to his eyes and dampened his eyelashes. He grit his teeth and resisted the urge to sob into the hug.

Then, stepping into the doorway of the kitchen - "Ha. Gaaaaay." Fetch smirked and leaned against the doorframe, waiting for the pair to look up at her. Delsin offered a weak smile and tossed a teasing bolt of smoke her way. She didn't bother to dodge, letting the weak shot land in the wall beside her without leaving a scratch.

Eugene sniffled and pulled away, embarrassed. He removed his glasses to dry his eyes with his sleeve, and Delsin did the same, taking a breath and trying to compose himself. "You guys are awesome, you know that?" the Akomish man chuckled weakly.

"You're damn right we are, D," Fetch said, stepping to his side and placing a hand on his arm. "And we're a team, too. So don't go locking yourself in your room and ignoring us, yeah? We're here for you."

Eugene nodded quickly, eyes red but tears dried. "Y-Yeah."

Delsin swallowed, his throat tight, and took another moment to collect himself. "I know," he mumbled. "I just... I can't..."

"Y-You're not the only one who's lost people, Delsin," Eugene said, his lips pressed together and his eyes wide with sadness. "And we're not going to let you suffer alone."

Fetch regarded the teen with a smile before looking back to the other man. "Yeah."

Delsin felt another gush of heat rise behind his eyes, but this time he smiled. "Alright, fan club. Group hug time."

And so Reggie Rowe awaited death.

But the strange ache in his chest traveled down, across his arms, through his spine, sending slow but intense sparks down his body. His fingers twisted and curled, his hair standing on end and the water in his shell surrounding him, creating a small, undersea tornado. Starting slow, it went faster, and faster, blurring the darkness into a small, glowing swirl of bubbles that circled his prison at breakneck speeds.

Then, he felt the concrete splinter and fall away from his body, and the ice that had encrusted his lips didn't feel so suffocating. He grit his teeth and climbed out of the concrete, pushing aside the crumbling shards of rock as the water swirled faster, easing the pain and cold. Now free, the darkness of the sea still blinded him, and he tossed his head around until he saw glimmers of light coming from the surface.

Stretching his arm up as far as it would go, he aimed high, and the bubbles followed him. The watery tornado propelled him up, and the light got larger, brighter, until he broke the surface. Upon reaching air he took to swimming, with the water still swirling and keeping him afloat. He pushed hair back from his face, and realized the "light" he'd been seeing was really burning flames on the water, and the flickering lights that illuminated Augustine's fortress.

Off in the distance, he heard shouting and screaming, and watched as the tossed geometric creation sitting above the ocean wavered and began to fall, sinking into the water and being absorbed into the black. Reggie knew he didn't have much time. Cold, and fueled by adrenaline, he turned towards the shore and the water carried him there. He kept his head down, chin tucked to his chest, too weak for tears or words or anything else. Without understanding how, he guided the water towards an area under one of the docks, hidden in shadow.

Reggie pulled himself up and out of the waves, and the water clung to him as he did so. He felt cool tendrils of liquid pull at his jeans, and he welcomed it. He pulled the water close to him, let it sink into his jacket, let it soothe him with a sudden and otherworldly heat. His breathing, rapid and gasping, slowed. Then, moments later, he passed out.