Archive of Our Own

Outside, the cold hit immediately, the stark chill of noon creeping over them. The streets were alive with the hum of the midday rush—cars honking in the distance, taxi cabs zipping past, and workers streaming from nearby office buildings, heading for lunch or huddling together in small groups. The usual chaos of the city seemed louder under the bright midday sun, and yet Richard felt out of place, as if the noise was a foreign language he didn’t quite understand.

Cass walked beside him, her steps steady, unfazed by the crowd. Her head remained low, her eyes scanning the movement around them, watching for any sign of a threat. Richard kept his gaze sharp, but the world outside felt overwhelming. People brushed by them without a second glance, immersed in their own lives, unaware of the reality they carried.

A man with a briefcase brushed past him, too close. A truck honked, jarring and sharp. Richard’s heartbeat stuttered, his hand tightening on the handle of the grocery bag like it was a weapon.

Cass glanced his way — subtle, brief. Just enough.

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer, just kept walking.

They passed a street vendor selling hot dogs, the smell of food mixing with the faint scent of exhaust fumes. A mother with a stroller walked past them, talking animatedly to a friend on her phone, the sound of children's laughter filling the air. It was all so… normal. So very, painfully normal.

Richard adjusted the bag of groceries in his hand, trying to focus. It was just another midday walk. Just another moment in the middle of this strange life they were building, far away from the shadows of the League.

But even as they stepped through the crowd, Richard couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all fragile. He wasn’t part of this world. Not really. And neither was Cass. And especially not Damian.

Still, they moved through it—no one noticing them, the hustle and bustle of the city swallowing them whole, as they made their way back.

Their building was further down behind them—a little worn around the edges, with chipped paint and creaky steps. It stood quietly, a humble refuge amid the city’s relentless rush, hidden in plain sight.

Richard unlocked it, the familiar click of the security system like a small sigh of relief. Inside, the apartment greeted them with the kind of silence that could only be found in a place designed to keep the outside world at bay. The noise of the street, the midday rush, disappeared behind them as they entered.

---

Inside, the flat was sparse, the furnishings functional but not much more. The walls were bare, save for a few carefully placed pieces—small touches that kept up the illusion of normalcy. A picture of a beach, a few plants, nothing too extravagant.

Scattered quietly on the floor were a few baby toys — soft blocks, a rattling ring, a plush dinosaur — worn but well-loved. Nearby, a small basket held an assortment of baby clothes, folded carefully but showing signs of frequent use. A gently used baby blanket was folded neatly on the couch. A baby bottle and pacifier rested on the coffee table, reminders of the constant care the tiny occupant required.

But underneath the surface, the flat was anything but ordinary.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, the atmosphere shifted. The air felt heavier, the tension returning like an old, unwelcome friend.

 Richard locked the door and turned carefully, mindful that Damian’s tiny fingers still clutched the edge of his sweatshirt against his chest. He slowly took off his glasses, tugged the hood a little lower over his head, then slipped off his outer jacket and hung it on a hook nearby. His eyes scanned the room quickly, checking the perimeter for anything out of place. It was an instinct, as natural to him as breathing. The blinds were drawn, the windows reinforced with a layer of mesh designed to prevent break-ins. The only source of light came from the harsh, white LED bulbs overhead.

Cass moved to the corner, sliding her jacket off and hanging it neatly on a hook. She pulled off her cap next, revealing short black hair flattened slightly from the fabric, then removed the oversized sunglasses and set them carefully on the shelf beneath. She didn’t need to check the room. She knew it was clear. Her eyes were always on the horizon, always focused on the next threat, but in here, she allowed herself a rare moment of stillness.

Richard’s fingers brushed the edge of the counter as he moved to place the groceries down. But his attention was already elsewhere—toward the small security hub set up on the far wall. A series of monitors blinked softly, showing live feeds from multiple cameras around their building. All of them were linked to encrypted servers that Richard had set up. No one was getting in unnoticed.

He checked each feed quickly, his eyes flicking over the faces of the few tenants who passed by, watching the way they moved. No one had noticed them yet, but that didn’t mean they were safe. They were never really safe.

A sharp click came from the hallway—a sound Richard knew all too well. He turned to find Cass pulling a small panel open on the wall. Behind it lay their arsenal, neatly arranged and hidden from plain sight. Weapons, knives, and a few larger pieces of gear glinted faintly under the dim light—silent reminders that this flat was more fortress than home.

Richard’s gaze drifted back to Damian, still curled against his chest, breathing slow and steady. Slowly and carefully, he reached down and unbuckled the baby carrier’s straps. He lifted Damian out gently, cradling him close so as not to wake him. The baby’s tiny fingers relaxed against Richard’s sweatshirt as he moved toward the crib, which sat quietly beside the couch. 

He lowered Damian onto the soft mattress with the utmost care, making sure the baby stayed asleep. For a moment, Richard simply stood there, staring down at the peaceful face—the reason for every risk, every sleepless night.

Letting his hand rest on the crib’s railing, he felt the faint echo of Damian’s heartbeat—small and steady, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

Another day. Another fight. Another chance to keep them all safe.

He closed the panel quietly, the weight of the world settling once again on his shoulders.

Outside, the city carried on—oblivious, loud, and alive.

Inside, they prepared for whatever came next.