As full and bright as I am
This light is not my own and
Familiar light reflections
Pass over me

The battle was over now, but he was falling so fast, so horribly fast, a blur of red in the grey skies of the Netherworld and there was nothing they could do. Frustration tore at Rowan, blind panic stole his breath away, because he was bound and weak, but Ryo needed him and he hadn't the strength to halt the whistling plummet of his comrade.

The impact reverberated through the roof tiles, into the very stones of the fortress, knocking loose dust and already broken frames. He felt it in his teeth and his body ached in sympathy as a crater blossomed around the Armor of Wildfire.

Strata had returned to him seconds before the shocking collision, but it was too late. All he could do now was sprint across the shaky and slippery tiles, racing towards his friend. Cye kept pace on his left, determined to reach the focus of their concern before any more Dynasty surprises were revealed. Rowan couldn't have cared less about possible dangers at that point. He would tear apart anything that crossed his path, to the possibility of even the remaining Ronins. His panic was receding, but he was too scattered and shocked to recognize the armor bonds.

He was crouching, removing Ryo's helmet, and there was blood, too much to be a simple wound and he was convinced the leader of their motley group was dying or already dead. Hysteria was rising, wrapping around his chest and squeezing tight until he could barely breathe and all that escaped his mouth was a moan, like a wounded animal, as he cradled Ryo's head against the fabric of his subarmor.

"He'll be fine. He's fine." Cye was muttering a litany of heart-rending reassurances, more for his teammates' sakes than a product of his own doubt, as he placed weary hand over the wounds to heal them. Sage was limping painfully, half-supported by Kento, as they struggled forward to assist. The Warlords stayed wisely away.

"Head wounds always bleed worse. The blood vessels are closer to the skin. It just looks worse, but he's fine. He'll be all right. He's fine." Cye kept repeating it over and over, until Rowan just wanted to shriek at him.

Angry words bubbled up his throat, frothing against his tongue like bitter acid, but he kept quiet. He needed to be cool, calm, logical. He was the sane one; he never lost control. Seeing the black-red-rust slick fingers of his gloves, the life dripping from his fingertips like rain water from a leaf, Rowan fought amazingly hard to keep his self-possession.

He wanted to open his mouth, to ask if there were internal injuries they couldn't see, if it was still Ryo in there and not some empty broken husk, but his lips were glued shut by his own indrawn breath and grinding teeth. Instead, he ground his knees into the cold grey concrete tiles and ran his slick fingers through matted brown hair, spreading the redness and trying so hard not to, but unable to stop his hand from moving. He needed to touch, needed the physical connection, because Wildfire was so weak in the bond, barely registering where once it burned scorching bright.

Light blue and green gloved hands rested on the battered armored chest, glowing and pure and Rowan willed Strata to join them, just as Hardrock poured his power into the link, covering them like damp earth. With narrowed eyes, Rowan was able to free a hand and lay it gently over Sage's, feeling the exhausted tremors vibrating beneath his.

They had come so far they could not lose now.

*******

A cool ocean breeze teased his lips, anointing his cheeks with a light salty spray. Ryo opened his eyes slowly, but found they were already tracking bright swirls of light in the darkness.

In his subarmor, he was floating, but grounded; dizzy, but perfectly clear. There was nothing around him, yet the pressure of a thousand years crowded him until he thought his arms would not move. But they were free. He was free, and he had no idea where he was or who he was or why he should worry.

The darkness was comforting and he found himself watching the ribbons of color with bemusement. They might have been right behind his eyelids, or fifty meters away, but his perspective was skewed and he couldn't focus on any specific points for reference.

The breeze became more insistent, and he inhaled but didn't inhale the scent of brine and salt and sand and sunshine. A memory was urging him to do. . . .something. . . . After a moment, he let the demand fade from his thoughts.

A warmth started spreading through his chest, igniting his cells until it felt like his body was melting. The heat was scorching, burning away the inside of his chest cavity and peeling back layers of his skin in charred flakes. A scream welled from deep within, but the flames were licking the backs of his teeth and he had no body left.

As suddenly as the warmth began, a blanket of soft coolness wrapped around his aching flesh, soothing his agony but engendering a different pain. He felt secure and protected, yet numb and lost in his lack of reality.

A ghostly touch on his hair, his chest, his shoulders, imposed his self-awareness once more. Familiar and anxious, the touch pulled him into himself, into his memories and senses with a persistent tug that would not be denied.

We will not lose you.

And he felt loved.

*******

He justified it by telling himself he was merely inordinately hungry today. The door to Ryo's room just happened to be on his way to the kitchen, and if it happened to be ajar- unlocked- locked- well, it wouldn't hurt to stick his head in and check up on the sleeping warrior.

On his sixth trip to the fridge that hour, he wondered if he was fooling anyone.

The temptation to stare was irresistible, though, and he found himself leaning against the doorjamb for endless minutes, just watching the rise and fall of his chest. There was an astounding difference in Ryo when he was asleep. The unnatural stillness was disconcerting. Ryo twitched even when he was sitting in front of the television, and always seemed ready to bound off to the next adventure at any given moment. This silence, this lack of vitality, was just wrong.

"Odd, isn't it?" Sage whispered in his ear, and he had to curb the impulse to strike out.

"What?" Rowan murmured back as he shut the door lightly behind him.

"I think that's the most peaceful we've seen him since the beginning of everything." An elegant shrug. "He's unconscious and completely at ease. Yet, the rest of us know the Dynasty has been defeated and can't seem to relax."

"Old habits." Rowan mirrored the shrug and moved towards their room.

"Speaking of which," Sage paused in the middle of the room as Rowan lay down on his bed. "When are you going to tell him?"

"Huh?" With studied nonchalance, Rowan flipped through a sci-fi novel until he found his current page. The worn paper was comforting beneath his fingers.

After a moment of silence, he glanced over the edge of the book and blushed when he met Sage's level gaze.

"I can't exactly have a heart to heart with him right now, in case you haven't noticed."

"He's not going to sleep forever, Ro." Sage quirked an eyebrow and Rowan had the urge to hurl the book at him.

"It's not that simple," he muttered as he gestured ineffectually, giving up on the pretence of reading. "I can't just dump it on him right after all this."

"It's as simple or as complicated as you want it to be." Sage sighed and perched on the edge of his bed.

"Easy for you to say. You're the one who has all the socially inept fools stumbling over themselves to curry your favor. You've never had to be the one doing the asking."

"This isn't about me. It's about you and Ryo. He gets a nosebleed at just the thought of dating so I don't think he'll mind if you're not exactly the epitome of suave."

"That's just it!" Rowan sat up straighter. "It's Ryo. Everyone knows he's only interested in Mia. I mean, compared to her I've got no chance."

Having the audacity to snort derisively, Sage rose and moved to leave. "If that's what you think, then you never will have one. Why don't you let Ryo decide who he wants?"

With that, he shut the door behind him.

Rowan picked up his novel again, but couldn't see the words.