To Pancake Tortoise, who brought me back and inspired this piece, and an especial Thank You note to my wonderful beta, RiaKitsuneYoukai, whose work made this piece a better fic.

The facts: On the 1st season's finale, Ace and Rev are supposed to be dead. And while the rest of the team cried out for their leader's 'demise', no-one did the same for the fast-mouthed roadrunner. Not even Tech.

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Extant -- \EK-stunt; ek-STANT\, adjective: Still existing; not destroyed, lost, or extinct

Rev's POV

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What a way to celebrate our anniversary!

Sure, there were scary moments now and then, but I had plenty of confidence that we would, in the end, be victorious. We are the heroes, after all, aren't we? The chosen; those who Zodavia called to create the team… no, no-no: The Team. There, with capitals.

Still…

There is this particular event that has been bothering me; the one when they believed we were dead. Ace and I, I mean. Not because they dispatched us on their minds, no… although that's a quite disturbing thing to believe, if you ask me. No, it was the team's reaction afterwards, when it became obvious that we were alive and kicking. They were so relieved.

I didn't knew we were that close.

True, we've been living together for a year, willingly putting ourselves in risk, trusting the others to come on our aid were something to turn wrong and, of course, doing the same thing for them. But, now that I think about it, having their lives on my hands is a disturbing thought, too.

Whatever.

I guess that what I felt then is similar to what you feel watching an image of the planet for the first time, when compared to being indoctrinated all your life to blindly believe it is a sphere. It's like, wow, a thing just too big to believe… yet you do, because deep down you know it is true. But really, truly, be given proof of it? It definitely blows out of existence any doubt you could have.

Maybe that's why it disconcerts me this much. I mean, there was this superspeed-gifted roadrunner, being loved by his team mates, even if sharing the spot and good wishes with Ace. Because, I mean, he is the leader and all, right? It's an honor to be there with him. And then this young hero turns around, looking for the one he internally calls his best friend, and what he finds?

That is the question, one that I still don't know how to answer.

Yeah, Tech was there, but he really wasn't… you know what I mean? And even if he smiled and seemed to agree with all the things being said, there was some strange quality about him, which I could notice no matter how hard he tried not to meet my eyes. Sadness, regret. Guilt.

There wasn't time to ponder about it, not with plenty of villains to take to justice; and right after that we still had the anniversary celebration. A little bruised and shaken, but still very happy to be there, I went through the rest of the day acting the way they expected me to. Smile, wave your hand, say some rushed thing they can barely understand, not that they really care about what you say, anyway…

sigh

Okay, that was unfair. I know they care about me; the team and Acmetropolis' citizens, that is. It was just that Tech's silence had been rubbing on me, his moodiness wearing me out. Just because he's a quiet, lab-locked genius that prefers solitude doesn't means he has to act the part of a statue. And maybe the rest of them didn't notice, because he still waved his hand, smiled, and shared some techno-babble as expected, but he couldn't fool me.

That's it, until he disappeared.

I'm supposed to be the fast one of the team, but it only took a moment's distraction for him to leave. It was way too late in the night, the party was still going on even if to a more relaxed pace. About half of the guests were already gone, but the rest of the Loonatics were still there. They didn't notice when I, quietly, left.

This brings us to the present moment, with me trying to decide where to look for him. Most would go to his lab first – I would, on a normal day, but I got the feeling that this time that wasn't the place. Neither his room, I decide, while I make up my mind and move to my quarters.

And there is where I find him, by the window, gazing at the stars. The lights are off, but the outside illumination allows me to notice the sank-down shoulders, the tension on his stance. If I know him well enough – and 'till this point, I thought I did -, he has to be fighting a killer headache.

What should I say? What should I do? All I know is that he is suffering, so I wonder if he got hurt and is hiding something from us. But another part of my mind keeps nagging and telling that I already know. Is it me? Is this about me? And as much as I want to believe it, there's the part that I don't understand. I can see where the pain comes from; it would be the same with me, were I to almost lose a close friend.

But the sadness, the regret? The guilt he is so obviously full of? I am here, alive and mostly unharmed. Shouldn't he be happy for that?

Did he just swear?

As in slow motion, I see him turn. The anger on his face tells me he definitely swore, before being replaced by surprise to finding me here, and then by pain, just so much pain. And then he just... cracks. In front of me.

He is crying when I hug him, and I've never before seen him cry. He's not wailing, or weeping, or anything like that. It is quiet, just like him, and you would never believe he's in tears if not for the occasional and almost silent sob. Or the strangling embrace I'm being subjected to.

"Hey," I say, on a voice much quiet and lower than my usual one. "I'm-here-okay?-I'm-fine." It calms him down -- not that he needed it, to begin with. "It'll-be-fine.-Everything-will-be-fine.-I-promise."

"You can't promise that," he says, and lets me go.

He looks better, so I smile and he smiles back, a true smirk this time, but he still seems to be carrying an unknown weight on his shoulders. And I understand what he means; on this line of work, there are no promises. If anything, that's what we learned this day.

Then I'm surprised one more time, as he chuckles.

I look at him, trying to understand what's going on. He has sat on my bed, with his palms covering his eyes and the attached elbows resting on his knees. And he's smiling.

"What-is-it?" I question, my mind racing while I try to understand a joke that should not be there.

"Nothing," is his answer, "I'm just being stupid."

Pondering about it, there's only one thing I can say.

"Because-you're-feeling-guilty?" And now he's the one surprised, I can say, as he looks up. Good, I'm not the only one anymore. "You're-not-that-hard-to-read-Tech.-It's-not-as-if-you-were-The-Phantom-Lord-or-Batman-anyway."

He just smiles. I haven't been able to make him appreciate the wonders of old comic books. Yet.

"It's not…" he starts, just to take a pause and start again. "I don't blame myself for what happened to Ace and you. There was nothing I could do, that any of us could do, right then."

I ponder it for a while, wondering how it felt, knowing that your hands are tied and you can't save your friends.

"What-is-it-then?" I finally ask.

I'm standing right in front of him, so he has to look up. But then, when he does, he seems incapable of looking directly at my eyes, and the guilt is more present than ever.

"When it happened, I… I didn't worry about you, just Ace. It was like, you know, 'Dang! Chief is dead'."

So, I heard him swear twice in a day, so what? Second time didn't really register. It just hurt, and I didn't know words could do so much damage. I had to sit down on the bed, by his side, but even then he didn't dare look up at me.

"What?" I asked, quietly.

Maybe I'm just being ignored, I think, as he shows not indication of hearing it, and keeps talking as if I said nothing at all.

"I just remember thinking 'He can't be dead, right? I would have known if Rev died', and nothing more."

His words are quiet too, but I hear them as if somebody keeps shouting them again and again, and again, each time louder than the one before. And the pain just disappears -- puff! Just like that. Then I push him, and he lands on the floor with a thud.

"Hey!" he manages to complain, before I hit him with a pillow.

"You-jerk!" I accuse, even if I'm smiling like a mad. "You-knew-what-I-would-think-and-still-you-told-me!" I toss another pillow, this one less forcefully. "And-you've-been-bashing-yourself-all-night-over-it? You-idiot."

"I told you it was stupid," he says with a smile, moving to a sitting position.

There are so many things I could say, but most of them I think he already knows.

"No-it's-not," I say instead, and the pause that follows is long, like, a day or two. "I'd-like-to-believe-it's-possible," I finally manage to add.

He grunts in response, and somehow I know he agrees with me. But his eyes are closed and his breathing is slowing down; obviously the day's events are taking a toll on him.

"I should go to my room," he says with a weary voice.

"Goodnight-then," I concur, getting up.

It really wasn't a surprise, when I got out of the bathroom, to find a sleeping coyote still there. Sure, it probably won't do wonders for him, to sleep on the hard floor, in uniform, and right after a really taxing battle. But he looked so… peaceful… there. Besides, he already has two pillows.

As I get into my bed, after covering him with a sparse sheet, I can't help but smile and imagine what his reaction will be. Well, I'm not mad anymore, but he still owes me. After all, I could have enjoyed today's celebrations a little more, were it not for the fault of certain particular one.

The End

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The fiction (author's note): You need to know that a) I haven't seen the chapter this fic was inspired in; b) English is not my mother tongue; and c) I'm usually not that much of a sucker for angst and fluff, but this story has potential to become the exception. That said, I really would appreciate any correction and/or suggestion you might have. And, if somebody offers to beta it, I'll welcome you.

Plus, I do believe Rev's thoughts are not as intelligible as his speech; yes, he might think fast, but also would be perfectly capable to understand it, might he not?