The air was painfully humid; the smell of rotting fish, stagnant puddles, waterlogged ruins and rapidly-growing mold stunk up the place, and there were more than a few corpses, carefully ignored.

Aside from all of that, though, I was happy.

Perched on Apex's slightly-broader-than-before shoulders to not slow him down, my hands gripped tightly (but carefully) on his horns, I was above it all, a passenger, riding the most glorious of mounts. Apex's cheerful humming—a low growl that shook my bones in a most pleasing way—was contagious, and I found myself humming an alto accompaniment. It was a melody from one of his first albums, "Jack Offs King", although I wasn't sure if he'd know that if asked. But what did that matter? If he needed to know, I could remind him. I would remember for the both of us.

We raced across the city this way, following his nose. He would sniff the air, head zeroing in on the right direction like an English Pointer, and then his cilia would tighten its grip on my hips and legs, the only warning I got before he launched himself over rubble, bounced off of wrecked walls and soared over still-standing rooftops. Then he would dig, assisted by the two rubbery, ten-foot long tentacles that had grown from his back fighting an Endbringer—why yes I was rather pleased with this development—gingerly pull out an injured or trapped survivor, and I'd call it in for pickup. Rinse and repeat. Meditative, almost, if you ignored the devastation and the knowledge that these were, until a few hours ago, the homes and businesses of actual people.

More lived than would have otherwise, though, thanks to my Apex. That's what mattered, really.

Well, that's what we would tell the public. Between me and Apex, I thought we were both more excited about the tentacles. And his post-fight afterglow, his eyes bright and many-hued, thanks to a gift from Sunshine. Who was apparently Legend.

Yeah, my boyfriend got wrecked by Legend. By request. How cool was that?

And he still wore the bones. In a moment of stillness, waiting for the wind to change directions and a new scent to cross our path, I slid down my grip on his left horn, feeling the ridges beneath my fingertips, until the edge of my hand hit the still-intact leather circlet, the pieces of me unscratched. He had tilted his head out of the way of a lot of water echoes, he had said, when he returned to me, back on that hill.

I had the feeling he would remember me, now, even without it. And if he didn't, I was confident I could remind him. I could accept all of him, strengths and weaknesses alike. There were worse flaws in a partner.

My smile faded only slightly when I thought about how he got that way. That video…

I still had a lot of questions. Things Pizza said would be explained in time. Maybe. When Apex felt up for it. I wouldn't push. It was hard enough watching him mourn his… brother. Which fit better than 'his past self', because, really, it wasn't him anymore. That man was dead. Whatever plans, notes, schemes and legacy he'd set up for Apex had ended. Whoever he had been, Apex was his own monster. His own beautiful, talented, wonderful monster, who decided his own fate.

Just like I did. And there, leaned forward so I wouldn't slide off of his back even while he perched on the side of a building, fishing survivors out from collapsed stairs and piles of shattered furniture, I thought—what do I actually want, now?

The same as before, really. A life of adventure. Full of music. Highlighted by travel, seeing the world. And I wanted to do it by his side. I nodded to myself, shifting out of the way slightly as tentacles grabbed exhausted, mildly alarmed, very water-logged office workers and gently clutched them by his side, somewhat mollified by his quietly rumbled reassurances and my presence.

And what did he want?

"Apex, sweetheart," I asked him, as he laid out the survivors on the ground and I tapped the wristband he'd brought from the fighting, alerting the other S&R folks. He tilted his horned head, one eye aimed up at me, just so I'd know he had heard me. "What do you want to do now? After all this, I mean."

The wristband beeped and flashed green, so he started walking down the street, one middle hand pulling at the fur beneath his chin, thoughtful. I could almost feel the way his tail shifted behind him with each step, counterbalancing with long, slow sweeps.

"I think," he began, his voice pitched low, quiet for him. "I think I've earned a vacation." He paused, his head tilting up, looking at the gray, overcast sky. "I was on a beach once. A nice one. Sunny." His tongues flicked out briefly, tasting the air, quick as lightning. "There was… a boat, I think."

I hid my grimace, because I knew he would have seen it. Beaches weren't… really my thing. What with the whole outdoors and bright sun plus pale skin thing. But that didn't matter. As long as I was with him, I'd… heh. I felt myself smiling, scratching idly with my claws on the fur of the back of his neck. I would adapt.

Least I could do, really.

The moment was interrupted by a different sort of buzzing, on my belt. My work phone. I pulled it out, thumbed it on, saw it was a message from Kurt, to Apex. Why wouldn't he have just—oh, right. Leviathan. That made sense. I felt as much as heard Apex's low questioning sound, so I read the message and summarized.

"Apparently you've got a new appointment request Kurt thinks you'll enjoy. Someone named... 'Long'?"

I felt Apex shudder slightly beneath me, between my legs, and his cilia flared up, waving and turning silver and red for a moment before settling down. My, he was excited by this. I made a note to actually… eugh. To actually thank Kurt later.

"I'm not sure why, but I think this one will be fun," Apex rumbled cheerfully. Then he paused, slowing mid-stride, and turned his head back towards me, his one rainbow eye checking in, his unspoken question.

I smiled. Yeah. I could get used to this. Actually…

"Maybe this time… I could watch?"