I would like to thank Rioludoodle, Numbuh 777 and Numbuh 10.4 for their help in reviewing this chapter. On top of posting this Chapter, I have also updated chapters 1-5, correcting any errors I found upon rereading them. I aim to have improved versions of the rest of the chapters up within the next couple weeks.

And now, for a chapter I know that a lot of people have been waiting for…

Chapter 13

Sore. Everything felt sore.

That was Nigel's first conscious thought as he started to wake. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, not daring to move a muscle. The bed he was tucked into didn't seem familiar. What happened? Then his memory kicked in: the recommissioning module, Numbuh Zero, the moon base, Citizombies, Grandfather. No, surely it was just a dream. Only a nightmare; a terrible figment of his imagination. He'd open his eyes and it would all be over.

To his horror, when he cracked his eyelids, he saw that his nose colored in black and red, silhouetted without any source of light to make it so.

Shoot! Don't panic, don't panic.

He fought his instinct to recoil and instead lay still, forcing himself to stay calm. He closed his eyes quickly, trying to will the sight away.

Alright, it wasn't a dream. This was really happening…so what now?

Nigel turned his focus inward.

Closely examining what he wanted to do at that very moment, Nigel was extremely relieved to find that he did not, in fact, suddenly possess the urge to go out and rain misery down on the heads of kids everywhere. He would have expected such evil thoughts to accompany these powers and a silhouette suit as part and parcel, a package deal.

In fact, his mind seemed to work the way it always had.

Of course, there was the possibility that the psychological transformation could occur more slowly. It could be a long process, a creeping, gradual thing with effects that would go unnoticed until it was far too late. He hoped not. The last thing he wanted to be when he grew up was an evil, child hating monster.

Whatever his ultimate fate was, he supposed worrying about it could wait until later. For the moment, Nigel would simply be thankful that he was still himself.

Feeling much calmer after a bout of self-reflection, he allowed himself to focus on the present. He rubbed his fingers together, expecting to feel some alien film or strange fabric om his skin. However, the silhouette suit itself did not appear to have any substantial weight or texture to it, which seemed quite peculiar now that he was hyper aware of its presence clinging to him.

He was in a bed, tucked under some sheets. Judging by the warmth and weight he felt, there must have been a quilt atop them. He could feel that with his eyes closed.

He could hear sounds from elsewhere in the building, voices. One of which was Grandfather but the other…

It was his dad.

Nigel opened his eyes again and this time he refused to let himself be deterred by shadows, even if they were perched on his nose and bounded with a type of red glow he had long learned to fear from experiences with Father. He forced himself into sitting position, his muscles aching as if he had spent the previous day as a cadet running training simulations he wasn't ready for.

The covers fell back and more of his own silhouetted form was exposed to his view. Nigel breathed in sharply through clenched teeth as he took the sight of his torso, arms and hands, despite knowing that they would all be covered in the same shadows that had so frightened him when he saw them on tip of his nose.

He turned his attention once more to the comforting cadence of his dad's voice and took a deep breath to calm himself. Then, he looked at his surroundings. He was in a bed in the corner of a dimly lit room. There was a second bed directly beside him, the two separated by a bed post with a small lamp on top of it. Judging by the antique style of all these objects, Nigel guessed that Grandfather had used his powers on the space much like he had done to the convention center.

Above this lamp there was a window with its curtains drawn to the side. Nigel looked out to gaze upon a dark, smoggy sky. Even if he wasn't nearsighted, there would not have been much to see in the murkiness beyond. It looked like the world was either just about to settle in for the night or brighten for the day. Having no idea how long he had been out, he had no way to tell which one it was.

Turning his gaze from the window to the nightstand, Nigel realized that the lamp was not the only thing occupying the space on the tabletop. Also resting on the smooth surface were his sunglasses. He immediately picked up the shades and put them on and put them on and the fuzzy edges of his world became crisp and clear. Oddly enough, it seemed to be one of the few times that the lenses made the room seem too dark, as the place had already been perfectly lit for his light sensitive eyes.

Nigel pulled back the covers the rest of the way and was met by the sight of twirling tendrils of shadows, reminiscent of Grandfather's. He reached out and grabbed one, which he held for a mere moment before it suddenly lost its physical qualities and shifted through his grip as elusively as any shadow on the wall.

Nigel looked away and forced himself to get out of the bed. He moved slowly, in respect of the exhausted sort of pain wracking his body. Toes that he could not distinguish through the silhouette covering them squished soft carpet. He appreciated the sensation of the texture for a short while before further studying the room he was in. Scrutinizing his surroundings, Nigel took notice of a dresser, a half open closet, a full length mirror and, most importantly, a door on the far wall.

Nigel paused to silently reprimand himself. As a KND operative, he had learned to always take note of all his surroundings at the first opportunity. Sure, he was tired, aching, scared and confused but that was no excuse for slipping up on something that training and experience had drilled into him so many times. Considering the circumstances, he needed to be focused now more than ever.

Nigel began to make his way toward the door. Initially, he intended to pass the mirror by, intentionally avoiding his own reflection - but he couldn't stop himself from taking a peek from the corner of his eyes. What was supposed to be a cursory glance turned into flat-out staring at the strange figure in the mirror. Hidden behind his shades, his eyes seemed red, but upon lowering his glasses, he could see their true yellow color. He noted the myriad of similarities and differences between this silhouetted figure in the mirror and those of Father and Grandfather.

For several moments, Nigel could do naught but stare at his own, terrible reflection. Then he clenched his fists and drew himself tall, as if he was staring down Father. Wait, no. That was the last person he wanted on his mind!

He glared at the figured in the mirror and began to say; "Well, Matchstick…" only to slap his hands over his mouth, horrified by the strange, warped voice that issued from his throat.

Looking at his reflection, he saw the fear in his own, glowing eyes. All attempts to distance himself from the form in the mirror fell away. That boy wrapped in the silhouette suit so reminiscent of those of the two greatest villains of the seventh age, that was him. Not someone else he could fight or flee from. Just him.

A small whimper escaped his throat, still in that lower, unfamiliar register. Suddenly, a crack formed the mirror's surface. Nigel attempted to back away from the looking glass, only to have the shadowy tendrils choose that moment to solidify again. They tripped him as the reflection he was trying to escape shattered into a thousand pieces. Shards of glass scattered across the floor to show him the horrid image he'd wanted nothing more than to flee from at a thousand new angles.

He closed his eyes at the traumatic sight and called out, "Dad!"

In moments, he heard thumping footsteps and the door swinging open. Then, he felt himself being pulled into the embrace of an adult he knew very well. "I'm right here, Old Bean. It's going to be okay."

Nigel wrapped his arms around his dad and finally let himself cry. There was a maelstrom of emotions behind those tears. In the past day, he had been through so much. Father had used him to unleash the horrific evil that was Grandfather. In the only purely positive experience he could recall in the last twenty-four hours, he had found out that Numbuh Zero and Monty Uno were one and the same. And then, to ruin that for him, there had come the revelation that Father was his uncle and Grandfather, his grandfather. He had discovered that the Delightful Children were Sector Z and failed to retake the moon base with them. He had freed his friends and teammates from Grandfather's control only to be separated from them and captured by Citizombies. And finally, for a grand finally to the worst day of his life, he'd been handed over to Grandfather, who had promptly welcomed him into the family by activating latent powers he was terrified of.

Nigel began to calm down as his dad whispered to him. He wasn't really taking in the words he stated themselves so much as their comforting tones and the feeling of safety and warmth that came with them. He couldn't help but be reminded of when he had woken up in hospital after the incident that had cost him his hair and almost his life. His dad had been the first thing he saw when he woke up, and had behaved almost exactly as he was now.

Much calmer now as he was held in his dad's arms, Nigel felt the shadows fall away from him as he calmed in his dad's grip. The sight of his own pale hands and the red sleeves of his sweater had never been such a relief.

Eventually, Nigel pulled away from his dad's embrace to look up into the man's eyes and he saw that the great Numbuh Zero had been crying, too.

Nigel sniffled, "I'm sorry. I tried. I did everything I could. Really, I…"

"Hey now, you have nothing to apologize for. I know you tried your hardest. That's all that really matters, Nigel, dear boy." Monty Uno smiled at him lovingly.

Despite how much his chest hurt with anguish, Nigel found himself soon wearing a smile mirroring his dad's and even a small chuckle escaping his throat. He might now have powers like his uncle and his grandfather, but he was still his father's son.

Monty gave Nigel a comforting pat on the back as the boy pulled away.

Nigel started to use his sleeve to wipe his face dry. When the child glanced at his dad to see a brow raised in mild disapproval, he stated, "Dad, after all the stuff that's happened to this shirt, I doubt some tears and snot are going to do much more damage."

"Probably not," Monty acquiesced as his son proceeded to use said sleeve to wipe off his face. "And now, I think you'd better come with me. I'm surprise that your Grandpappy was able to wait even this long and let me have a moment alone with you. If we don't go out, he'll come bursting in here. In fact," Nigel watched his dad turn toward the doorway and ask, "Pappy? Are you standing right in the hallway?"

"Of course I am." Grandfather's head popped into view around the door frame and the ancient being snapped, "You didn't actually expect me to wait downstairs, did you." With that, he slithered his floating form through the doorway like a gaunt serpent before standing upright, his head nearing the ceiling and his feet still a few inches above the ground. He smiled at Nigel and asked, "And how did you sleep?"

Glaring at him angrily, Nigel responded, "I hardly see why how it's any concern of yours." Suddenly, the boy heard his dad softly grunt as the steady, comforting grip on his shoulder disappeared. "Dad? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." The man responded too quickly, with a forced calm that raised fright in Nigel's mind.

Grandfather emotionlessly stated, "You burned him."

"What?!" Exclaimed Nigel, shocked.

"Pappy!" Monty shouted furiously even as his face paled.

"I'd never do anything to hurt him." Nigel retorted indignantly, only to be startled as a flickering, ephemeral layer of orange flames began hovering over his skin before dissipating just as quickly as it appeared. Nigel recoiled in shock before turning back to his dad, only to find that the man had his hands tucked behind his back, completely hidden from his son's line of sight.

"Of course you wouldn't," said Grandfather from behind him. "Not on purpose, at least. But you're new to your powers and it takes practice to learn to control them."

Nigel reached out for his dad's hand and timidly asked, "Did I?"

"Nigel, I'm alright. Really."

"Then show him your hand, Monty. And if not, show him anyway. The sooner he learns the better."

Monty turned an angry glare at his own father until Nigel begged, "Show me, Dad. Please."

The man looked at his son in clear anguish and slowly presented his hand to his son's grasping fingers. The damage wasn't terrible. The skin on his fingers and the base of his thumb was red and would almost certainly blister but it would probably clear up quickly. Still Nigel let go and looked away, feeling a tear of shame roll down his face. The first person to be hurt by his powers was his own dad.

"Nigel, it was an accident."

"That doesn't change the fact that I still did it."

Monty looked up at Grandfather's tall form and angrily insisted, "You shouldn't have said anything, Pappy."

"He needs to see what he's capable of before he's powerful enough to do real damage. Don't worry," declared Grandfather haughtily, almost victoriously, "He'll learn to control it. I'll teach him."

Fueled by disbelief and sheer outrage, Nigel spun around to face his grandfather and exclaimed, "Teach me?" Then he clenched his fists and yelled, "I don't want anything to do with you. You're the one who did this to me!"

Unrepentant, Grandfather replied, "Yes, I did and better that I did it for you rather than leave you to wait for it to happen during an emotional outburst."

"I didn't want this…this…at all!" As Nigel shouted, his silhouette suit reformed from the pool of shadows around his own feet. He cast a cautious glance at his dad to make sure he hadn't accidentally hurt him again before returning his attention to Grandfather.

"Well that's too bad, because you have them now." The old man stated blandly, quickly becoming annoyed with the child.

Nigel glowered at him with hatred in his eyes. That was when he got his next big shock. A weak burst of fire shot from his marrow glare directly at Grandfather, It covered a third of the distance between the two of them before completely fizzling out. The boy jumped back and would have fallen over again if Grandfather hadn't reached down and pulled him back to a standing position.

The old man studied him for a moment before announcing, "Well Monty, I'm glad you convinced me not to crush his sunglasses, now. I like the red glow they give his eyes."

"That's enough, Pappy."

With the warning evident in his voice, Grandfather growled "I'll decide when enough is enough."

"Why?" Nigel asked, the distress in his warped voice cutting off the building confrontation between his older relatives.

Grandfather answered harshly, "Because it is your heritage, your birthright and your destiny," his tone became gentler as he added, "Give it some time, boy. You'll come to like them soon enough. You'll see."

"In the first few minutes since I've woken up with these powers, I've broken a mirror, burned my dad and shot flames at you. I've watched you and Father use these same powers to do the most horrid things. I see nothing redeeming about them…And don't you dare use baking. No amount of cake could ever possibly make this okay."

"Monty told me that you didn't even know about being a part of this family until yesterday." With that, he shot an accusatory glare at said adult as if charging him guilty of child neglect. Returning his attention to Nigel, he continued. "I'm sorry that your only experience thus far is that of being on the receiving end of attacks. There's more to this than that, I promise."

"You'll have to excuse me if I seem more than a little skeptical." Nigel responded bitterly.

Grandfather was about to snap at the boy when Monty interrupted, "Pappy, I think this conversation can wait. Nigel has been through enough for now and I think what he needs is a bath, some food and probably more rest. Certainly not a lecture, no matter how important it may be."

Grandfather considered Nigel's tired, bedraggled appearance and decided that Monty's decision was probably for the best. "Later then."

"Heck," Monty pointed out, "if you want to make a point about good uses for powers, you could start by using them to get the food and make breakfast, eh?"

Grandfather looked at Nigel thoughtfully and agreed, "Fine, but first…" he glided over to the spot on the floor in front of the mirror frame where most of the glass shards had landed. He summoned a flame, its light reflecting off the fragments so that they were easily visible in the otherwise dim room.

The largest shards floated up into the air before shooting off into a dust bin tucked behind the bed, a small, unlined bronze thing that Nigel failed to notice. The many smaller pieces of glass continued to rise up from the carpet until there was nothing to reflect the fire light. At that point, Grandfather stopped focusing on the flame and it ceased to exist. The room seemed considerably darker afterward.

"A pity, I'll have to replace that mirror at some point." He glanced at Nigel and asked, "Did you break it physically or was it your powers?"

Nigel's silence seemed to be answer enough for the old man, who said, "impressive, hardly had them for a few hours and you can already…"

"Dad…" interrupted Monty, annoyed.

"Fine, fine. I'm going."

Grandfather flew past the two, out the door.

"Breakfast should keep him occupied for a while," Monty sighed, relived to have resolved the situation, at for the moment.

"Does he really plan to just…. insert himself into my life like this?" Nigel asked, hoping for any answer but the obvious.

"It could be much worse, old bean." Monty replied tiredly.

Clearly, Nigel had heard something catch in his voice that spoke if truth in those words of consolation. "Could it?"

"Let's just say, there are reasons Pappy turned out the way he is, and his Gran Gram's… approach when she awakened his powers is one of the biggest."

Nigel looked down the hallway where the old man had disappeared, "his grandmother did to him what he did to me?"

Though the boy's expression was hardly visible under the silhouette suit, his yellow eyes seemed to waver like candlelight in the breeze.

Monty nodded, "And then hid him away from the world for a year. No contact with anyone else, including his own parents. She let him see one of them but he had to choose which one he wanted to see the most."

"That's horrible."

"That's how our family often does things. Generation after generation, I've found hints of stories like that, over and over again. Pappy probably thinks he's being an excellent grandparent by comparison, simply by letting me be here and trying to get your mom for you, too."

"And no one's stood up and said enough?" Nigel exclaimed in disgust.

He startled backward when steam blew out of his ears in a short, shrill whistle. The boy froze, scared of his own body doing something else unexpected.

"I did, even after I forgot the truth of our lineage." Monty said.

The man barely reacted to the eruption of steam. It was as if he was used to it. And of course, he was. He had grown up under Grandfather's roof, after all and at some point he had to have dealt with his little brother's powers as well.

The lack of reaction on his father's part helped Nigel calm down again. After collecting himself, he nodded thoughtfully. "I won't let it fall back to that. I promise."

"I know you'll do everything in your power to keep it from happening," his dad said.

Monty knew Nigel would try but he wasn't sure he could.

Nigel was about to say something to reassure him but Monty interrupted his son by clapping his good hand gently across the boy's shoulder despite the possible risk to himself, and said, "But let's not focus on such things right now, eh? As I said, this isn't the time for such conversations. The bathroom is the door directly across from the stairs. We ought to have some of the old clothes up in the attic. They're bound to be a bit worse for wear but they'll be cleaner than what you've got on right now. I'll have some out for you by the time you get done with a shower."

"There's soap in there already?"

"Oh yes. It's actually been there since I was ten. Pappy's powers make everything in this house like new again - err, well, not exactly new; mint condition's more like. In all honesty, the place ought to have been condemned. We'd probably have fallen through the floor by now if it weren't for Pappy. But off you go now. Get yourself clean, son."

Nigel looked around the room with new eyes before he started down the hallway. He tread lightly as he walked toward the bathroom, half-expecting the magic supporting the floor to vanish at any moment.

Within a minute of the door closing, Monty heard the sound of the shower being turned on.

Monty shook his head as he thought about the mess he and Nigel now occupied. He would have to figure some way to fix things but for now, he was stuck. Nigel was clearly in no shape, physically or emotionally, to be doing much of anything. Although being Nigel, the boy would push himself to the limit trying.

'Oh well, best not get ahead of myself,' he thought, 'We'll just work through this one step at a time.'

And the first step was to take care of his son while the boy got back up to snuff. With that goal in mind, he leapt to the task of finding a box of old clothes that would hopefully fit Nigel.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it was worth the wait. I've been playing around with how I wanted to do this one since when I first wrote chapter 5. This chapter's structure has changed so many times, it's not even funny. I didn't expect it to take this long to bring Nigel back in but now he is back.

I also have a general idea of how I want the rest of this story to go and have several partial chapters written up based on my plans.

Unfortunately, I do not know when the next chapter will be up. I am getting a new job this summer that will keep me extremely busy and I don't foresee myself having much time to work on Fan Fiction. I also might have a fall position lined up that will keep me just as busy. So, for now, although I eventually plan on coming back to this story someday, it is once again on hiatus. You will see me updating stiff on other Fandoms if you follow me, but it is all material that I have had built up for a while and am just releasing over the course of the summer. I will try to get back to writing this story again as soon as possible.