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Jimmy woke up rested and strangely peaceful. The sprouts of dreams that plagued him in the night faded to an immemorial blur as the sun nudged the world to consciousness, sleep bleeding from rested souls like open wounds.
He sat against his headboard, blinking the crust from his eyes, and studied the clouds through the window, glass ajar to allow wisps of crisp autumn air to creep inside.
It was nice, quiet.
Not that he minded loudness, the chaos that Grian brought everywhere with him made sure to beat any hesitation over his brain wiring at full speed all hours of the day from his body before the duo could even talk.
Back when they spoke it chirped and squeaked and everything seemed so simple.
The peace didn't last long, attention stolen by a continuous stream of buzzing somewhere buried within his sheets. Jimmy dug through the ruffle of pillows and blankets, bundled together and achingly warm until his hand landed on familiar smooth plastic.
His communication was shaking with how many notifications were being sent, loading on the front screen like the visual calmed any panic.
>>Grian: Tim where are u?
>>Grian: Meeting at 9
>>Grian: if you're late I'll kill u
>>Grian: Timmy
>>Grian: Tim?
>>Grian: ...
>>Grian: JIMMY ARE YOU SLEEPING
Jimmy winced at the flurry of messages, glancing at the time, half past eight. Oh. He was going to die. Before Grian could make that wish come true, Jimmy threw aside the sheets, the communicator momentarily forgotten as he rushed to brush his teeth, combing his hair back in a poor attempt to look more awake than he felt. His hair refused to cooperate, marly frizzing and puffing like a baby chicken with each pass of the brush.
He reluctantly gave up on taming the mess of gold and worked on dressing somewhat presentable.
Meetings were fairly casual, especially so easy in the morning when half his co-workers weren't bothered to change out of their pajamas and pretend to pay attention. Still, He replaced light blue pajamas with dark wash jeans and a nightshirt with a plain collared one, a jacket thrown over.
Impressed at his quick recovery, he snatched his communicator and checked the time as he closed the apartment door behind him, shoes still untied.
Ten minutes to ten.
How???
Maybe time passed differently in the morning, like a specific torture designed specifically for him but Jimmy wouldn't put it past whatever creature lurking in the depths of the universe that liked messing with him in particular. Passing in the evenings, slow before work let out, and speeding up when he woke too late for breakfast, again.
The crowd around him passed easily like he wasn’t even there.
Without Grians voice, no matter how squeaky and annoyed, something uncomfortable unfurled in his chest.
Jimmy wouldn't say he was lonely.
He had friends, Joel and Lizzie, Grian Pearl and Gem. Sure two of those may have been his cousins or friends of friends but—it was enough.
It had to be.
His communicator buzzed relentlessly on the way to the bus stop, and Jimmy was reluctant to answer the various death threats that awaited. But the people waiting with him were starting to share strange looks, weary at the noise. Not wanting to cause any scene, and not because Jimmy feared for his life if he didn't reply, he reluctantly opened the device.
Amongst the dings and beeps, a long drawn-out ring overtook them, starling him and a few nosy snoopers. Giving the best glare he could muster, which wasn't very intimidating, Jimmy answered. He immediately cringed upon Grian's loud screeches, yelling about the time management and tardiness reflecting poorly on him.
The squawks of annoyance made his heart leap out of his chest, twisting at the familiar sounds. Grian must be angry, not just playfully annoyed if he was making such instinctual sounds in what must have been a building full of half strangers.
“Sorry, overslept.” It was the first thing he said all morning, broken words whispered with sleep and stuttered. Grian paused mid-sentence and huffed. Jimmy could almost see his wings ruffled to a point, his back ached in tandem with his thought.
Not the time for that.
“How far away are you?” He breathed calmly, trying not to freak out again.
“Uhm,” he glanced at the bus stop, the Redstone sign indicating the next stop was five minutes off. “How mad would you be if I missed my bus and had to wait for the next?” Silence. And to Grians credit, the next time he spoke the words were laced with worry, anger temporarily forgotten.
“Jim you know how important this is…for both of us, for,” Grian choked on his words, another stab of guilt, and something unfamiliar at the use of his real name, at the implication.
He let the tension settle between them, not wanting to give an excuse, there was none. “I know I'm sorry G.” he whispered unsteadily, trying to ignore the sad chirp that threatened to rip his throat out with the force it took to keep down.
Grian hummed, whispered muffled words to someone in person, and yelped at whatever they said. “That utter bollocks—” Jimmy couldn't help but huff, glancing at the sign. Any minute now
Just as the thought finished processing, the Redstone blinked, surprising him and his fellow occupants. Yellow words flashed a bright orange and red, then—-’Next bus; ten minutes’. The crowd groaned in synch, some moved to sit on the pavement edge, the bench occupants smirked, and Jimmy—went limp with the dawning horror.
He wasn't going to make it.
He told Grian as much, to the avian's quiet curse and subsequent agreement, acceptance, was almost worse than anger. Jimmy's heart pounded, guilt so visceral it turned to bile in his esophagus. And then an idea struck, recalling the finer details of the meeting.
It was an intercompany group call, all the agents on their floor stuffed into a cramped office to discuss upcoming events, villain attacks, and—Jimmy breathed—-potential heroes. The hope growing in his heart took an immediate swan dive, clinging to the edge of his sanity.
“I can make it.” He stated plainly, surprised at how confident it sounded. In reality, Jimmy was shaking at the thought of it. Grian was silent like he already knew. Another chirp and Jimmy knew he did.
“Act first, apologize later?” His cousin offered, Jimmy's eyes wandered the street, bustling even in the early morning cold.
“Act first, apologize later,” Jimmy confirmed, tentatively smirking, and allowed the humm deep in his stomach to grow in blinding power. Grian must have ended the call, at least he hoped. Jimmy, ducked into the nearest ally, dark and a bit grimy. It would do nicely.
It hurt a bit. Molten fire between his shoulders protruded evenly from between the muscles of his back and stretched into existence, gold feathers slick with blood blurred in the light radiating from him faded to a dim glow.
Blood slicked down his shoulders, without a doubt staining his shirt, disappointment panged him, it was a favorite. Jimmy cringed at how he would explain that one, then winced. Putting them away hurt far worse than growing them.
Hopefully, Grian kept up his glamor charm training.
The appendages fluttered slowly like they were afraid Jimmy might change his mind. He brought a wing to his chest and cradled the feathers between his palms. His magic hummed approvingly, vibrating in a distinctly coo-ing sensation.
It wasn’t every day he displayed his wings so openly. Well, as open as a dark alley could be. Normally it was reserved for training, in the dark hours of the night or when Pearl dragged him into the nest and preened his wings until he melted out his skin, a necessity of course.
But he never allowed himself to exist with them, not for long, not without consequences.
A flash of flowers, a pool of easy touches, hiccuped laughter, and warm hands locked together.
Jimmy set his jaw into a firm frown. Flying, especially with how unsteady he was recently and the sleep that stuck to his hollow bones, would take longer than was strictly plausible. But Jimmy would settle for slightly later than never showing up.
The brick wall next to him was bare, with a large dumpster and unbagged trash scattered around, some graffiti, and a tall gate that separated the alleyway in halves. Jimmy lifted his gaze and beamed. Just above the dumpster was a folded latter, an emergency escape that led right to the roof. It would be easier to have a launching point.
Satisfied with his plan, Jimmy began the descent upwards. Careful to avoid the rust, keeping creaky metal to a minimum volume, and halted heavy breaths when passing barred windows. The roof was bare, with no extras to the occasional air vent and a smoky chimney puffing gray smoke into the air. His wings flapped with anticipation, craving the wind between feathers that never failed to make him lightheaded.
He started with a slow ascent, levitating off the cement for a few seconds. The muscles of his back twinged but otherwise did not protest. At the very least all that training hadn’t been a complete waste of his and everyone's time.
But he didn't want it to be an even bigger waste. Hurry up .
A few feet, higher and higher rising until he was the same distance from the roof as he stood tall. The longer he let the powers trapped in his body seep into his limbs, skin tingling from fingertips to feathers, the stronger his flaps became until he was fairly confident he wouldn't immediately fall and die.
Now that would piss off Grian.
The thought shocked a small laugh from himself, shaking the nerves from his tense shoulders.
Right, he squinted forward, his enhanced sight better than any human, and spotted the bus line a street over easily. All he had to do was follow it, try his best to stay hidden, and get to the meeting without disappointing Grian and every Avian that came before him.
No pressure.
It was easy enough ducking between tall trees The City had recently made eco-centric political movements towards increasing ‘the environmental potential of downtown Hermitopia’ which Jimmy had no argument against, especially when they served as excellent cover from wandering eyes.
When he got tired of getting pine needles in his decently clean wings, and one or two close calls with cloud gazers catching movement in the corner of their eyes, Jimmy decided to fly just a teensy bit higher, almost halfway up the tallest skyscrapers.
The bus path turned into the dense portion of the city, cars packed within an inch of other death metal machines, traffic lights strung across the sections of road guided the cars and brave pedestrians bracing for action, and the tall trees had all but vanished.
A pinch of fear leaped in his throat and he flew higher, until his feet scraped the rooftops below, trying to dart over windows before someone could glance through and see him. While distracted by a group of cawing birds, who froze in his presence, he looked down and panicked when he couldn’t see the crimson bus he’d been following.
Logically he knew he could just call Grian and be directed from there, but his hands were fumbling and his breath was pitching. He floated closer to the street than he probably should have, eyes daring for any sign. A few red cars caught his attention, and eventually whatever remained of that specific bus camouflaged with the crowd, replaced by identical buses traveling twenty different paths.
Ah, Freak out time. No, no, think logically.
WWGD. What would Grian do?
He sucked in a calming breath, the air above the blur of traffic clean and sharp. Logically, their meeting took place at one of the most distinct buildings in the city, red and blue with sharp edges and a large H atop. Logically, Jimmy had been there many times, whether in passing or with Grian as his guest that day. He knew what he was looking for, even the vague direction, and if his bird brain started functioning for at least half a second he could find it fairly easily.
Problem One, his bird brain.
Second problem, he'd been flying aimlessly, just to feel the wind in his hair and calm the tension in his chest, and crossed over into a dim section of the city that seemed so stark to the street a block over that Jimmy needed to do a double take.
The third problem, the first, and the second were the same. He was falling fast and hard, not above a tall, hard roof but still close, but the streets below were so far that the thin wisps of fog blocked his sight.
Why he was falling, Jimmy couldn't decipher, all he knew was the stone-cold knowledge that he was going to die as he plummeted towards the unforgiving Earth. All his breath exited his lungs but they didn't seem to get the memo, chest pounding up and down as panic had no time to settle.
He was going to die. He failed Grian, Pearl, and himself. Anyone who told him he could do it, silly Jimmy, of course, you failed, we tried to warn you. They were right, and the worst part was he couldn't be mad about it, couldn't feel anything but dread and lightheaded, body not quite getting the memo that he was not flying.
But falling,
Falling,
Falling,
Falling.
Until he hit the ground with a shutter, ears ringing as the world settled into darkness. Breath faded like it might have never existed at all. Jimmy had seen death before, watched the people closest to him shed their final breaths and embrace the cold of whatever awaited.
They never said how much it hurt, or how long it took.
Jimmy shuttered, groaning at the bright flash of light and movement around him.
Wait. What?
At the realization that he could move, albeit hardly more than a few inches, he blinked his eyes open, halfway unaware tears gathered in his water line until his vision unfocused. Everything hurt if he hadn’t been born to survive longer distances and faster falls, it wasn't enough to curb the ache in his bones or the blood on his hands, skin rubbed off on the sidewalk.
Jimmy tried to laugh, at the memory of being a small child flying barely two feet off the ground and playing tag with Grian and Pearl, crying when pushed down.
Crying sounded nice right now, and so did being with his cousins. Anything was better than laying on the cold, hard—-Jimmy went limp, flinching, and confused when the touch below was distinctly not blood-stained cement.
No crying yet, his eyelashes fluttered and he wiped away the tears that were surely from falling fast and not instinctual fear with the back of his hand. After what could have been years the world came into focus with a pop. The sound of the city, chirping birds and crickets hidden in the dark spots of trees, and soft barely there whispering.
Jimmy looked down. Two wide red eyes stared back.
Oh.
Oh no
Had he died after all? Because void—-if this was real Jimmy had so much explaining to do, and a hospital to be taken to, but all that could wait because—-surely this was some dream or nightmare or paradise after death.
Before he could speak or confirm, the man below him shuffled his weight onto his forearms and sat up, staring back in what must have been an identical expression. His head felt a little funny, better let the blonde speak first. Not because Jimmy couldn't do much more than turn his head. Chirps soft and broken, nope.
“Did you fall from heaven?” Dark pupils dilated.
Jimmy must have made a face because the other laughed, out of breath. He winced, if falling hurt then being fallen onto must have been much more painful. Jimmy managed to relieve a little of his weight but his bones felt too mushy for much more. Somehow he understood, laying a standing hand on his waist.
The man he fell on, because he couldn't deny that. Jimmy fell from the sky (he was going to have to figure out why now, huh. Maybe death wasn’t too bad..) and what looked to be a hybrid of some sort, face partially obscured by a dark red mask, caught him, unwillingly.
Finally the first thing he said registered, color returned to his face in a warm pink flush. “Because my face is messed up—-yeah yeah.” Jimmy heard that phrase one too many times in high school and was frankly tired of it. At Least come up with something original!
The strange hybrid smiled behind his mask tail, long and thin with a small yellow flame, swung back and forth, “because you swept me off my feet?”
And if Jimmy hadn’t been utterly frazzled and taken aback from the sudden events, breath halted behind his teeth, he’d find it in himself to scramble off his legs and apologize for using him as an impromptu… human. Cushion. Compensate him with whatever money he could scrape together and drop off the face of the planet together. They stared at each other for a long time, and then, he laughed, unbothered giggles coming out easily, like Jimmy wasn't still crushing him.
Oh
“Dunno if swepts’ the right word,” he quipped, with all the breath regathered. He almost regretted it when a pang of suffocation seized his heart but the hybrid's sudden flush of pure excitement stole that too.
The shorter, which yeah, his feet barely came to Jimmy's mid-calf, void his shins hurt, grinned. Jimmy was really starting to get tired of losing his breath. The last few minutes enough for several lifetimes, never mind one.
Grian , an unhelpful reminder chimed, and Jimmy shoved it down.
“I'm in so much trouble,” He suddenly realized, wanting to do anything but check the time. The hybrid squawked as Jimmy began to shuffle off, embarrassingly, his lap. “Sorry sorry—” Apologies would have to be rushed, “I'm so late—” The other said something but Jimmy couldn't quite make out the words, seeing as the world came into itself with a violent pulse and the headache he tried to fight off ramped up for another round.
“Hey—” Jimmy wavered, light on his feet for non-avian reasons. Had he eaten breakfast that morning it probably would have landed somewhere on the ground. The second he swayed dangerously the Hybrid jumped up to steady him, one hand around his shoulder and one around his head. He pressed down lightly but the sting of something made him hiss.
“You hit your head.” He deadpanned, staring into his eyes. Jimmy tried not to show how horrified he was, but if it mirrored even half of the others' desperate expressions, then it was a given. “I—when you landed on me—you’re welcome by the way. But your head landed above my shoulder and smacked , hard on the sidewalk.” His voice broke between reverent words, clutching his shoulders.
Jimmy suddenly felt a horrible twist in his gut, unrelated to the various splotches of blood on the shorter that must have transferred from Jimmy.
“Jimmy.” The name came from somewhere hopeful, something grateful in his soul. The avian blinked at the sudden direction change of topic, glaring at his forehead and then meeting his eyes. For a dreadful moment, Jimmy wanted nothing more than to keep looking.
“Blaze…” The hybrid gave, a twinkle in crimson eyes. Ah, that made sense, Blaze…a Blaze hybrid then. His nose wrinkled “a bit on the nose.”
The exchange was painfully surface, not nearly enough, but the same ugly feeling inside told him to be wary, dodge his touch in fear of burns, and mask a name he didn't recognize. Blaze wasn’t a hero, Jimmy was made well aware of major and minor ones throughout the city, and it was hard not knowing the names of villains who wandered the streets at all hours. So why was the hybrid walking around, seeming to have been on some type of patrol? An eyebrow rose involuntarily, Blaze returned it equally.
Yeah. Deserved. “You gonna tell me why you fell from the sky, Jimmy” The avian floundered, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder. But the heavy weight of Canary wings was absent. When did that happen? So he shrugged, much to Blaze's pouting disappointment.
“Well, I'm glad I caught you” Jimmy's breath stuttered in his stomach, a sharp burst of warmth up his spine. “So am I.”
Blaze laughed loudly despite the force at which he landed on top of him. “I'd hope so.” They were staring at each other again. Jimmy didn't know why it wasn't awkward but he was too concussed to properly question it.
It had to be a weird trauma bond.
The hand in his hair swiped his bangs from his eyes, allowing him to see his smile better. The hand on his arm squeezed, and then—-- ping! The pair startled. Blaze let go of him completely and Jimmy fumbled for his comm, surprised it wasn't smashed into bits of circuit and Redstone.
It was Grian again, as always, with a stray message or two from Joel and even Bdubs. He sighed, not quite ready to start the meticulous task of typing. “All alright there?” Jimmy glanced, Blaze looked sick.
“I have to go—-”
“Jimmy..” He flinched, not quite used to his name being said so— so. Yeah.
They were strangers, but Blaze saved his life, that was worth something right? Something that made his chest stutter with guilt.
With a burst of something, probably the concussion, Jimmy stepped forward, hand to his masked cheek. To Blaze's credit, he hardly flinched looking on with concern. “You still got a concussion y’know, at least I'm pretty sure.” His gaze softened.
“Thank you.” Jimmy wanted to say so much more, his communicator chimed angrily.
“‘Of course.” Blaze murmured, leaning in a bit just to feel the scrape of calloused palms on the temples of his forehead.
Jimmy stepped back, trying to douse the flame in his stomach, walking without a stumble.
When he got to the corner and glanced back, Blaze was gone. His head spun.
It wasn't enough.