"I'm planning on leaving Mayview for a little while."

Zarei turned her gaze to Spender from where she stood beside him on the balcony of the dojo, a laugh itching at her throat because she knew better than he did. "You think that's a good idea?"

"I've battered my student, left her in the infirmary, and operated against the very organization I've sworn to uphold." He sounded drained, shattered, and she couldn't say she blamed him. He was coming down from weeks, conceivably months of mind washing. There was little qualm in her mind that such conditions would leave a soul stumbling over their- ethics, regrets, grief... "Why wouldn't it be a good idea?"

"You weren't here so you didn't see it." He glanced at her and she did her best to not look at him. She wasn't sure she could, not as she recalled his memorial. Sometimes she still smelled her crimson roses, still felt Master Guerra's arms around her as though the contact was customary for them. She'd never gotten the chance to visit his grave in the three months following his burial- rather, she'd never gathered the will. Patchworm tried to console her, tried to convince her it'd be in her benefit to stand over his tombstone and speak to him, but she'd known better. There wasn't going to be a weight off her shoulders; there'd only be a slow, painful descent into weakness. It was something she simply couldn't allow of herself. To let one wall down would be to let the entire house fall, and rebuilding it would have been far too much work. "Your family, your friends- everybody you claim to hold dear- we all gathered here" she gestured to the empty fields that spanned for miles after the dojo, yet somehow they were beginning to feel familiar again "to bury you. If I wanted, I could walk you to your grave. We didn't even have a body to bury and there still wasn't a soul without a tear in their eye."

"I see…" He sounded surprised, again, like he hadn't been expecting anyone to grieve. He was a martyr, she knew, and though she thought it one of his charming traits, she found it deadly at worst and gallingly inconvenient at best.

"Those students of yours were a mess while you were away. I swear the girl was driving herself into a stress-induced coma. Proof enough she was your student, honestly." He laughed and she clasped her hands together, leaning over the railing because the cold air of early spring felt good against the bruises Berenice had left. "If your funeral was any indication, your departure from this earth will be mourned for years to come. Leaving Mayview is conceivably the worst thing you could do, at least so soon."

She looked to him and he smiled kindly. It was an indulgent sort of happiness, an appreciation too deep to put into words- something they by and by avoided around each-other. She supposed that meant she'd gotten through to him, that he'd let her be that girl with sticky popsicle-soaked hands that he'd held all through summer all that time ago. He turned his eyes to the grassy fields below them, watching with great interest as a few students sparred under Master Guerra's vigilant gaze. She saw him clasp both his hands and start shaking them, perhaps unintentionally. "However long she had me down there, every day was like my worst nightmare. It was everything I expected of hell and more." Zarei frowned and set a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing without a word. She didn't need to say anything- they both knew it. "It was pitch black darkness for days, maybe weeks. I spent so long wherever she kept me I lost track of time entirely. As stubborn as I am, I almost contemplated ending my life."

That alarmed her, although he was speaking in the past tense. She'd never thought of it before, what it'd be like to long for death, but she had a suspicion that the feeling wouldn't just disappear for him, not when he'd nearly taken his dearest student's life. "Richard-?"

"But at the end of the day I overcame it, just as I've always done. My mind might have caved, she might have had control over me, but I fought her every step of the way- and now I'm home." The strained clench of his hands loosened, and he paused to take a breath of fresh air. "If the afterlife is anything like that," He smiled at her again, but behind the gratitude from before was ambition- drive, optimism. "Well, I'll go forth with no fear."

She concealed her laughter with a short huff of air, one hand over her mouth. "You romantic fool. Your wife missed you."

"Did you?"

The question came with no hesitation, and Zarei almost felt affronted, as though he'd attacked her while her defenses were down. She supposed he had, and she was willing to bet he knew it. Her wide eyed glance to his face proved little but his interest. His brows were furrowed, and in place of the grin that'd been there before was a frown. She opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn't quite manage a lone syllable. When she finally shook herself out of her reverie, she sighed.

"I've been missing you for years, Richard."

He took one of her hands in his own and squeezed it. At that point in time, turning away was little but a fond notion. They kept each-other there, and she wasn't sure if it was her holding him or him holding her. She squeezed his hand back and let him take a step closer. He ran a tender thumb along the backs of her fingers. His eyes, although covered, read easier than any book she'd ever picked up. She saw shared memories of days long gone, moments that should have defined their future and failed- moments that led them to stand where they stood now. She tried to tell him that she remembered all of it too, every embrace and every laugh and every farewell and every fallout.

His hand slipped from her own, and just like that the fragment of time away from reality came to an end.

He remembered carrying Isabel's cringing, shuddering body from the cabin to the car. He'd memorized every wince in her eyes and every grunt and whine of her throat- locked it in his mind with a chain and anchor. He'd done that to her. A few days later, and she was fine, but he still hadn't forgiven himself. He was her teacher; he should have been able to stop himself, shake whatever hold Guillory had on him. Isabel was his student, his friend, and he'd dare call her his child. To know that he'd been the one to stand over her, dig a star into her back- it killed him, hurt deeper than any other mistake he'd made in his life. He'd gone his whole time as a teacher without manipulating his pupils with fear, and he worried greatly that his own slip would teach Isabel to fear him.

Yet she stood tall by his side as he helped her up the stairs to the second floor. Walking wasn't the easiest thing for her to do, but what mattered was her ability to at all. She had a limp, but it'd be gone in a month's time. She still smiled at him just the same, and she didn't flinch when he held her waist to hoist her over the last step. "I have to say, I'm honored Master has considered me for such an important role."

"Yeah, well…" Isabel shrugged. There was a trace of pain in her eyes, although she hid it well. He just knew how to read those brown blinking irises. "It's either you or me. If you don't take the job," she glanced away "then I'll take over as the next master."

It'd been so long and she still forgot he knew her.

"Do you want that?"

She winced again and turned her head to glance down the hall, as though her bedroom door was beckoning her. One of her hands came up and tugged a strand of her hair behind her ear, though more belligerently than one usually treated their hair. "Does it matter?"

"Well," Spender smiled and leaned against the railings that separated him from the good three feet he'd fall had it not been there "I'd like to know I'm not taking a job you want to do."

"Wait," Isabel's eyes widened, and her lips parted to say something meaningful- a question. "Um, are you saying…?"

"Isabel," he sighed and gestured to the training room below them. Her gaze followed his outstretched arm, tilted head silently encouraging him to continue. Students stood there, grunting as each one of them took their own spectral shots at the hay dummies that'd been so recently replaced with newer models. One student stood in place, swaying and sweating their clothes damp. Their shots hit five times out of eleven, but their balance was horribly off. They were a rookie, clearly, uncertain of their own stance and body language. Spender didn't have to second-glance to know that much. Another student was twisting in circles with each shot fired, something Master Guerra would have reamed her for had he not been monitoring the sparring match in the front field. The scene was oddly familiar, something Spender often times saw when he remembered a younger- ten or eleven years old- Isabel. It left a bittersweet taste on his tongue, but he swallowed it down and continued on. "You've spent your whole life here at the dojo. You need to have time for yourself, to live your life the way you want to live it." Her head turned to him slowly, and he mustered his most genuine smile, because he meant every single word. If it meant giving her a chance to explore the world for herself, do work for the consortium like she'd always dreamed of doing- he'd take that bullet for her with no hesitation, not even so much as time to blink. "I've had my time; it's your turn now."

Isabel jumped into his arms seconds before the last word left his throat, her arms wrapped snuggly around his neck and shoulders. She dug her face into his neck and quivered where she stood, so he wrapped both his arms around her and rubbed her upper back with one warm hand. "Thank you," he heard her whisper. "Thank you so much, Mister Spender- for everything."

Ed's room was full of tossed clothes, some worn only once and others disgustingly (mysteriously) damp. He wasn't sure he remembered half of his dirtied wardrobe, himself. Isaac helped him sort through the better stuff while Max went down a list of traveling essentials. Isaac would toss one shirt away and Max would follow his disgusted gropes with a checkmark on what was quickly becoming a never-ending list.

"Ugh! This shirt is from, like, eighth grade! You know there's a charity right down the street that would love this, right?"

"Do you have your toothbrush packed?"

"Don't know and yes."

Max scowled and let the list in his hands fall into his lap where he stood, leaning his weight against Ed's desk. "What answer went to which question?"

Ed shrugged. "They're interchangeable really."

Max and Isaac groaned in unison. "Seriously," Isaac dropped the traveling bag on the floor with an irritated thud. "Why are we doing this again?"

"Oh boy, I'd love to remind you!" And so he did. Ed leaped onto the rolling chair beside Max, ignoring the cautious warnings from both of his friends. When he waved them off, Isaac went back to sorting through his unpacked essentials. Max only started laughing at him. "You're looking at Baxborough-Con's biggest guest star!"

It hadn't occurred to him, upon uploading his rant video, that the stupid thing would actually get views- and he certainly hadn't expected people to like it. People loved watching him play video games- loved his commentary and his jokes and his personality. There'd been near-instant demand for more. Within the month of posting his video, he'd reached a little over nine million followers. He'd been stopped on the street around four or five times by actual legitimate fans who wanted his physical autograph- in three days. He still couldn't believe it himself. Then, low and behold, the biggest comic convention known to, well, him, sent him a message around a day or two ago. He'd been so shocked that he'd fainted right there in the training room- gave Mister Spender quite the fright, actually.

"So, is that what you wanna do for a living?" Max raised an eyebrow. "Play video games for a camera?"

"For an audience, Max! And well," Ed shrugged and leaped down from the chair, only struggling a little to keep his balance when it rolled out from under his second foot. Isaac snorted an "I told you so".

"I mean, I love doing it, and the website I post them on is willing to pay me for the amount of views I get, so I might as well ride this out for as long as I can, right?" He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded to his old console, sitting like a trophy atop his television. He did, after all, owe that ol' girl his world. "This is the happiest I've been in a long time, and it could, ya know, turn into something bigger."

He met the blank, attentive faces of his friends, and felt relief when they both smiled at him.

"As long as you save that money up and don't spend it all like a moron."

"Yeah, ya could be set for life!"

Ed opened his mouth to retort, remind them that he might've been weird but he wasn't an idiot, but there was a commanding knock at his door.

His turned eyes fell on Isabel, who stood leaning against his doorway with her hair unlatched from its hairband. He watched the silky strands fall over her shoulders as she leaned her head against the wide-open door. She was smiling at him, chocolate eyes tapering in a way that made her entire face go soft. It was rare to see Isabel so calm- so happy, especially within the recent months. Then again, Ed figured, there really wasn't any reason to not be happy anymore.

"Hey guys?" Isaac and Max hummed. "Could you go and pick up some snacks and stuff for me? It's gonna be a long drive."

"Wait, what?" Max motioned madly to the mess that was Ed's room, even though it'd been there far before Isaac and Max helped him start packing. "We are not your errand boys!"

Isaac sighed and wrapped an arm around Max's shoulders, tugging him into his chest as they approached Ed's bedroom door. Ed didn't hear much, but he could distinctly make out Isaac's "just shut up and leave the room". Isabel nodded to them as they moved by her, and they both waved as they passed her on their way to the stairs.

Ed was already watching her when she turned around to meet his eyes again. She tried to keep her smile up, but it fell moments later, along with her head. She seemed to curl in on herself, head turned towards the floor as though she was looking for something interesting to say. He raised an eyebrow and forced his own smile.

"Conventions, huh? This one's pretty far away…"

Isabel shrugged and chuckled, one hand running up and down her other arm. He could still see bruises there from her fight with Spender, but she didn't seem to mind. She wore a short-sleeved t-shirt for the city to see them all, and some part of him- the twelve year old who followed her like a shadow- thought the world of her for it. Older him, a more mature, rational part of him, was nothing but grateful to see hints of the old Isabel again. She brought her gaze to his and opened her mouth to say something but didn't, so he said it for her.

"I'll miss you."

Isabel leaped in her skin, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a brighter red than he'd ever seen them. The hand at her arm fell to her wrist and clutched the muscle and bone there as firm as a lifeline. There were a few grating noises from her throat, tell-tale signs that she was struggling to say something, but she wouldn't let herself. That was fine; if he had to take the reins for once, then he would. "I didn't want to put my problems on you. You already had so much going on." Isabel's eyes narrowed at him, but her brows furrowed the way they would if she were concerned. He guessed it wasn't too wild for her to feel concerned and be mad at him at the same time. "I just couldn't tell you what I was going through, not when you were going through worse-!"

"That's exactly the reason why you should have come to me, you absolute dork!" He sighed when Isabel's hitched voice rang like massive bells in his ears. "That's when we need each-other the most!"

"And I know that now."

Isabel's fists fell limp, palms dropping to her thighs just as he tucked his own in the pockets of his pants. They both stood there, eyeing each-other up and down, both too scared to make a move.

Isabel frowned when his gaze narrowed, and soon she was staring at the floor with one hand tucking her hair behind her ear. He stepped closer, and she sighed and set one of her hands at the nape of her neck. "Ed…" Her voice was low like it usually was, but just as leveled and calm as the situation called for her to be. He didn't want that; he wanted the real Isabel, the Isabel that kicked his butt and kept him in line and always knew what to do. He wanted the Isabel he'd grown up with back, the Isabel that knew she could open up to him because he was back to himself knowing he could go to her.

She turned her head up to meet his eyes again, so he cupped her face in his hands and pressed a long, hard kiss to her lips. She gasped into his mouth, so he turned his head to the side. He could feel her melt into him, feel her hands drop to his chest and grip his shirt like he wasn't already as close as he could be. Ed pulled away, but only far enough for their noses to brush together. He wasn't sure if he'd done it or she'd started it, but her lips were red hot on his own in blinding seconds, and he found that it didn't much matter who'd made the first move. He parted his lips and Isabel took the lead from there, hands skimming painfully up his chest so that she could use one hand to hold him by the collar and the other to wrap around his neck. His hands slid deliberately from her shoulders, to her waist where she shivered, to her hips where he squeezed her. They pulled away, but every new breath was met with another kiss, each as profound and tender as the last. He'd lost track of who kissed who by the third time Isabel pulled at his hair. Eventually the kisses became soft, like feathers sweeping against each-other in heaven. When they touched, their lips brushed against each-other. Ed was huffing when he pressed his forehead to hers, and she was too. "Oh yeah, Izzy." He laughed, and she raised an eyebrow. "I'd totally hook up with my cousin. Yep. Totally not grossed out by the idea at all."

As the words itemized in her mind, the eyebrow grew higher, and Isabel strained to keep her laughter behind tight lips, but she was snickering and snorting and he loved it. "Oh please," the hand at his collar came up to meet the other behind his neck, arms wrapping over his shoulders and holding him closer than he ever thought they'd be. Her narrowed eyes spoke of danger, but the ring of her voice read frisky. "Wouldn't be the first odd thing you've done."

Ed grinned from ear-to-ear and brought her chin up so he could kiss her again.

Max didn't know what was worse, the fact that Isabel had scared her college dorm mate away within three hours, or that Isaac had gotten paired with the worst person possible.

"No," Isaac slammed his hand down on his designated desk, blue eyes wide and frantic "No, no way! Nu-uh! We're not doing this! I'm marching down to student services and I'm getting this sorted out!"

"Dude," Max leaned against the desk by his side, biting back a snicker every time Isaac hit the cheap wood that he wasn't even sure was properly put together. Ed was positively howling with laughter from his bed, holding his sides and rolling side-to-side like he wasn't in danger of falling off. "So Ed's your roomie. What's the big deal?"

"The deal, Max," Isaac scrunched his nose and rubbed the bridge between his eyes "Is that Ed is a slob, he's loud, and I'm pretty sure he's already got three-week old chips under his bed."

"We've been here a day."

"I know!"

Max sighed and the last of Ed's obnoxious laughter died off with his interest in the conversation at hand. Isaac huffed and crossed his arms, leaving the perfect opportunity for Max to slip one of his own over Isaac's shoulders. Isaac fell into him with no pause, and Max rejoiced in the feel of Isaac's head falling against his chest. "Look, it's not like you can't kick Ed out every once in a while. Isabel's got no roommate right?" He turned his narrowed gaze on Ed, who had paused in his mission to unpack his comforters and sheets. It was the best mocking brow Max had pulled off in a while, and it showed on Ed's steaming red face. "Unless, of course, Ed wants to just move in with her completely- like a married couple."

Ed stuttered and tripped over his words for a good thirty seconds, with which Isaac had started sniggering and patting Max's cheek- a vain attempt to make him stop teasing Ed. "I- you-! You know what?" Ed turned his nose in the air and twisted on his toes to the window between his half of the room and Isaac's. "I think you're just trying to get me out of here so you can move in with your boyfriend! That's the pot calling the kettle black if I've ever heard it. I think I'll keep my room just to spite you!"

Max clicked his tongue and turned his head, tipping the top of his cap over his burning cheeks. "Whatever, man. That's not true. Besides, I just so happened to get Cody as a roommate. The dude's got a clean streak a mile long and a pretty friggin' good Rice Krispy recipe, so I think I'll keep him, thanks!"

"Wait, dude really?" Ed blinked, face devoid of any emotion but mild curiosity. "You could be hittin' that every night." He pointed directly at Isaac, who turned beat red in the face.

"Ed!"

He only snorted and turned back to his packed supplies, waving Isaac's hissy fit off with a familial casualness. Isaac took a deep breath, letting the argument go because he knew it was better to- something Max knew thirteen-year-old Isaac never would have understood. Max's eyes fell to his forearm where Isaac had gripped and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. "Come on," he sounded exasperated, but he could see the smile itching to make an appearance. "I'll walk you back to your room."

There was only a floor between the two of them, a simple elevator ride away, but it still felt like three oceans and a desert. Max snickered as Isaac let the door close behind them. "I couldn't help but notice our resident scowl-machine didn't take the bait?"

Isaac looked to Max, cheeks dusting a much lighter pink than they had been when Ed was poking fun at him. He liked to think it was because it was him, because Isaac couldn't stay mad at him too long. "Max." His voice came low, like a warning- a little yellow flag Max was glad to trample over.

He smirked and nudged Isaac with his shoulder. "Weaboo Storm? Hurricane Broody? Ginger Sprinkles?"

Isaac rolled his eyes and nudged Max right back, albeit with a finality to the sway of his arm. "Shut up, Max!"

As they pressed the door for the elevator to come, a companionable silence fell over them. Standing there, waiting for the signal 'ding' of the sliding doors, they were quiet. There was no exchange of playful offenses or the irritated glances Max had become so accustomed to. The moment was welcome. It felt like time had stopped to leave them there at that very second, alone with nothing but the future ahead of them. It was just that, he supposed, there was no urgency between them, no fear of what was ahead or tension around each-other; all of that was gone, creeping away with every step they took forward. That was where Max focused, then- forward.

The elevator doors on the right slid open, and Max and Isaac fit through the door seamlessly without a word.

The elevator jolted as most elevators did, and thus began their short journey to the next level. Max watched the numbers on the wall light up as they grew closer to his floor, and for some odd reason, he felt serene. Nothing was wrong, for once. Spirits- threats, friends, grudges- they'd all come and go. He just didn't feel like a horrible fate was looming over his head anymore. Conall happened in such a short time after he'd become a spectral, he'd never really had the chance to take pride in honing his abilities. Now that all three threats had been met, he finally had the time to feel at peace with the paranatural world; he finally had time to focus on living, like a normal human being.

"I love you."

Isaac said it so calmly, so evenly that he almost didn't think he'd heard him right. Max glanced at him from the side, turned back to face the elevator doors, and then let his lips stretch into a small grin.

"I know."

Isaac chuckled and glared at Max, eyebrow raised as spiritedly as the smile on his face. He turned his head, then shook it with a sigh and faced the door of the elevator once more.

It wasn't long before the small box's chime rang in their ears, and the doors slid open before them with the ease of a fresh year.

Max reached out and grabbed Isaac's hand as they parted from the elevator, noting the shock of electricity that ran up his arm. The spark was familiar, and he rejoiced in every raised hair. Isaac let go, if only for a moment, to bring their palms together between them, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. Max pressed right back.

After all, he knew Isaac was feeling every bit of the electrical shock he felt.