A/N: Late upload, I know. I couldn't stop writing and managed to write way more than I intended.
Enjoy the 4k words chapter.
-x-
Lily, who had watched the entire process from the kitchen counter without moving, caught Leon's eye. The exceed gave a small nod.
Leon rolled his shoulders and clapped his hands once, loud enough to get the room's attention.
"Okay. Who's hungry?"
The reaction was immediate and unanimous. Eyes widened. Heads turned. Even the kids who hadn't spoken beyond their names perked up at the word.
Right. Some of these kids haven't had a real meal for a long time.
Seeking to correct that as soon as he could, Leon moved to the kitchen.
The pantry and fridge were still obscenely well-stocked, the Suite's self-replenishing supplies showing no signs of slowing down. Fresh eggs, thick-cut bacon, vegetables, rice, loafs of bread that were somehow still warm and soft, butter, fruit, and about twelve different kinds of authentic Italian cheese.
It was every home cook's wet dream.
He had the cookware, the counter space, and the time. Now all that was left was to put together a feast.
Let's go all out.
Leon cooked. But it was far from the nutritious, protein-focused meals he'd been making for himself.
He scrambled eggs in large batches, seasoning each pan properly, making sure nothing came out rubbery or dry. Bacon went into the oven on sheet pans because there was no way he was frying twenty-three servings one strip at a time. He sliced fruit into bowls, toasted bread on the stove with butter until it was golden and put together a massive pot of rice with some of the vegetables for the kids who might want something warmer and more filling.
Lily, without being asked, began assisting.
The exceed's knife work was precise and efficient, his claws handling a blade with practiced ease. He diced onions, sliced tomatoes, and peeled what seemed like every piece of fruit in the fridge with an expression of calm focus.
"You don't have to help," Leon said, pouring another batch of eggs onto a pan.
"I want to," Lily replied, and that was the end of that discussion.
The smell hit the Suite like a wave. Butter and toast and sizzling bacon filled the air, cutting through the sterile, cedar-tinged atmosphere that had defined the space.
Leon noticed heads turning in the kitchen's direction. A few of the younger kids had drifted closer, drawn by the scent alone, watching from behind the marble island with wide eyes.
"Almost ready," Leon told them.
He laid out everything on the marble island and the table. Plates of scrambled eggs, stacked toast, the entire sheet pan of bacon, bowls of sliced fruit, a steaming pot of rice, and pitchers of water and juice. It was a lot of good food, made with care, for kids who deserved it.
The first few approached slowly, like they expected it to be taken away. Mia was the first to actually grab a plate, loading it with eggs and three strips of bacon before finding a spot on the couch. Caleb went next, and once the oldest kid started eating, it was like a dam had broken.
They ate.
And they ate.
Some of them made sounds Leon hadn't heard from them before. Small, involuntary noises of satisfaction, or surprise. A few of the younger ones ate so fast he had to gently tell them to slow down so they wouldn't choke or get sick.
Ellie, one of the twins, ate her toast with such careful, deliberate bites that Leon realized she was trying to make it last.
He made more toast for her and set it beside her plate without comment. She looked up at him, then at the toast before her brother Jonas nudged her with his elbow as if to say see, it's fine.
Lily sat at the end of the counter with a plate of his own, his tail swaying in that contented rhythm that Leon now recognized as the exceed's version of a smile.
Conversations started. Quiet ones, barely above whispers, but they were there.
Derek asked Miles to pass the juice. Sophie complimented the eggs to no one in particular, her voice still shaky but present. Marcus, a boy who hadn't said a word beyond his own name, laughed at something Deshawn whispered to him, and the sound was so sudden and so real that a few of the other kids turned to look.
Leon leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and watched.
They're just kids.
He'd known that, obviously. He'd known it when he broke their cages open, when he healed their bruises, and when he carried the weight of their terror through the branded connection in the back of his mind.
But knowing it and seeing it were different things.
These were kids who laughed at dumb jokes, ate bacon with their fingers, argued over the last piece of toast and leaned against each other for warmth on a couch.
The light was coming back to their eyes. Not all the way. Not yet. He doubted they would ever return to how they were before they were taken.
But Leon saw flickers and glimpses, in the way Tyler was actually making eye contact now, in the way Amara had stopped gripping the hem of her shirt like a lifeline, in the way Mia kept sneaking glances at Lily's tail as if she wanted to touch it but wasn't sure if she was allowed.
Leon smiled. He couldn't help it. It spread across his face before he could school it into something more composed, and he didn't bother trying to fix it.
This right here makes all that stress and effort worth it.
"You're staring," Lily murmured from beside him, low enough that only Leon could hear.
"Yeah," Leon said. "I am."
Lily said nothing else, but his tail swayed a little faster.
As the kids settled into their food and the initial frenzy of grabbing plates slowed into something resembling an actual meal, Leon glanced at the Command Seals on his hand.
Right. I should bring Nyx out. She's been in there since before any of this started.
He called her forth. A soft flutter of dark wings materialized above the marble island, and Nyx landed on its edge.
Her head snapped left, towards the twenty-three children eating breakfast before snapping towards the bipedal black cat sitting at the end of the counter with a plate of fruit.
Nyx's feathers puffed. She let out a sharp, alarmed caw and spread her wings, her body tensing into a defensive posture as her eyes darted between the crowd of unfamiliar faces and the thing that was very clearly not a normal cat.
A few of the younger kids flinched at the sound. Mia looked up from her bacon with mild interest.
"Easy, easy," Leon said, extending his hand. "You're safe. A lot happened while you were in there."
Nyx's head swiveled back to him. She stared at him with one dark, accusatory eye.
"Yeah, I know. I owe you an explanation."
He scratched under her beak, and she leaned into it on reflex before catching herself and pulling back, her feathers still ruffled.
"…Short version," Leon said, keeping his voice low. "I raided a child trafficking ring last night and rescued these kids. They're staying here until the people coming to help them arrive later today. The cat over there is Lily, my new familiar."
Nyx's gaze locked onto Lily. She tilted her head one way, then the other, studying him with the sharp, evaluating focus Leon had come to recognize as her assessing a possible threat.
Lily, for his part, had stopped eating. He regarded the crow with a calm and measured look, his tail still.
"Leon mentioned you during our conversation this morning," Lily said, his deep voice carrying easily across the counter. "Nyx, was it? You were his first companion in this world."
Nyx stared at him for a long moment and turned to Leon, as if asking "He can talk?"
Perhaps it was because of his brand new Trait but reading Nyx's body language and the meaning she wished to convey had become effortless.
"He's a magical cat from another world," Leon offered, as if that explained everything. What else could he really say?
Nyx looked back at Lily. She cawed once, short and flat.
Lily's whiskers twitched. "Charming."
"She'll warm up to you," Leon said. "Give it a day."
"I wasn't concerned," Lily replied, returning to his fruit.
Leon set a bowl of mixed berries on the counter near Nyx.
She eyed them and eyed Lily one more time before hopping to the bowl, positioned so she could watch both the children and the door. She began picking through them with deliberate precision. Her feathers gradually smoothed as she ate.
Some things didn't change. Even in a five-star pocket dimension with no possible threats to their wellbeing, Nyx defaulted to overwatch.
OOO
Leon was in the middle of clearing dishes when his phone buzzed.
He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was the number Cecil gave him.
"Hello?"
"It's Cecil." The voice on the other end was clipped. "My team's ready. Seven people total. Three medical, two case workers, one child psychologist, and Donald. I've personally vetted every individual. They're cleared."
"That was fast."
"I don't sleep much. We'll be at the motel in fifteen minutes. I need you to open the door."
How did Cecil manage to do spend so much time doing what he does without much sleep? Did he have a way to negate sleep or reduce it to a short duration?
Questions for a later time.
"Understood. I'll be ready."
The line went dead. Leon pocketed the phone and turned to Lily. "Cecil's incoming. Fifteen minutes."
Lily stood, his posture straightening. "Shall I change to my smaller form? The last thing those people need is a seven-foot exceed with a greatsword looming over them while they try to do their jobs."
Leon thought about it. "Probably a good call. But stay vigilant."
"Naturally."
Leon looked at the children as Lily shrunk, golden energy enveloping his form for a moment.
Most of the kids were still in the living area, a few dozing on the couches with full stomachs. Others were talking in whispers or staring out the window. The breakfast had done its work. They were calmer now and more settled than he had seen them at any point since last night.
He crouched in front of the couch. Caleb was the one he addressed.
"Caleb. The people I told you about earlier are going to be here soon. Doctors, people who can help. The man from last night is bringing them."
Caleb's expression tightened, but he didn't look away. "The scary one."
"That's the one. I'll be here the whole time. Nobody's taking you anywhere you don't want to go. Okay?"
Caleb looked at the other children, then back at Leon. He nodded. It was a small, tight motion.
Mia, tucked against Caleb's side with her blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon, looked up. "You promise?"
Leon nodded, patting her head. "I promise."
She studied him for two seconds, then burrowed deeper into the blanket and closed her eyes.
Cecil keeps his word. And so do I.
OOO
Fourteen minutes later, Leon heard the faint spatial disturbance of Cecil's teleporter on the other side of the motel bathroom door. He put on his mask and opened it before they could knock.
Cecil stood in the doorway, looking tired, but moving with the same sharp and deliberate energy as last night. Behind him, a small group of people waited in the narrow motel hallway. They wore civilian clothes. No uniforms, badges, or anything would scream government.
A man Leon recognized from the show stood at Cecil's right shoulder. Donald, his deputy. He had a messenger bag slung over one arm.
"Morning," Cecil said.
"Morning. Come in."
Leon stepped aside, and they filed through the bathroom door one by one. He watched each face as they crossed the threshold into the Suite. The reactions ranged from a sharp intake of breath to a full stop in the doorway.
A woman with gray-streaked hair pulled back in a low bun paused mid-step and stared at the nebula through the window. Then she looked at the children scattered across the living area, and the nebula seemed to stop mattering. Her expression changed to one of focus.
"This is the team," Cecil said, gesturing briefly. "Dr. Reeves, Dr. Kwan, Nurse Okafor. Yara Singh and Matt Deluca here are case workers, and Dr. Ellison is the psychologist. This is Donald, though I doubt you don't already know him."
Donald offered a handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, White Mask."
"The pleasure's all mine." Leon shook the offered hand with a firm grip. "The children know you're coming." He turned to the group. "I told them this morning. They're nervous, but they've eaten and they're calmer than they were last night. But before I let you guys in, there are a few things you should know."
He paused, making sure he had everyone's attention.
"First, don't touch them without asking. Some of them are okay with physical contact. The others will shut down the moment you reach for them. Read the room and let them come to you." He glanced at Dr. Ellison. "Second, some of them haven't spoken much. That's fine, so don't force it. Third, there's a bipedal black cat in there. Small, about the size of medium stuffed toy. His name is Lily. He's with me, so don't be alarmed. A crow is in there, too."
"A… cat and… a crow," one of the medical staff repeated.
"They're friendly," Leon said, pausing to add suspense as he smiled to himself. "Mostly."
Cecil cut in before anyone could ask follow-up questions. "You have your assignments. Dr. Reeves, start triage. Keep it non-invasive. Kwan, Okafor, assist. Singh, Deluca, I want an intake sheet for every child by the end of the day. Ellison, observe first, engage when they're ready. Don't rush anything."
The team moved into the Suite with practiced efficiency. Leon watched Dr. Ellison approach the living area first, keeping a respectful distance from the couch as she surveyed the room. Dr. Reeves followed, already pulling a stethoscope from her bag, her face settling into a stoic calm.
Mia watched them from the couch, her eyes tracking each new adult with sharp attention. Caleb was already on his feet, positioning himself slightly in front of the younger kids.
Cecil stepped up beside Leon, his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Twenty-three," Cecil said, his eyes moving across the room. "All accounted for?"
"All accounted for."
Cecil watched Dr. Ellison crouch near the couch and offer Mia a small, unhurried wave. Mia didn't wave back, but she didn't hide either.
Cecil glanced at the kitchen, the remaining plates, and the evidence of a meal that had fed over two dozen people.
"You must've held a feast," Cecil observed.
"They were hungry."
Cecil turned and walked toward Donald, speaking in a low voice about logistics and transport timelines and secure housing. The machinery of the GDA was spinning up, and the children were at the center of it now, surrounded by people who could give them what Leon couldn't.
Proper care. Proper safety. A way back home to their families.
Leon stayed by the door, watching. Lily, now in his small cat form, sat on the kitchen counter, his red eyes tracking every new face with silent vigilance.
A part of Leon wanted to continue protecting and taking care of them, but he pressed it down. There were other ways he could do that.
Unprecedented dangers, known and unknown, continued to loom over their heads and everyone else's. Leon planned on facing those dangers head on. He had to if he wanted to ensure his and the planet's survival.
But now, he had twenty-three lives he had already fought for. Twenty-three names attached to twenty-three faces he wasn't going to forget anytime soon.
Leon would be facing the same fights. But somehow, the twenty-three lives he had looked after made all the difference in the world.
"White Mask," Cecil called, knocking him out of his daze.
Leon turned. Cecil had stepped away from Donald and was standing a few feet from the kitchen island, his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Got a minute? There's something you should hear."
Leon glanced at the living area. The medical team had settled into a rhythm. Dr. Reeves was conducting quiet, patient check-ups on the couch while Dr. Kwan assisted. Dr. Ellison had found a spot near the window where she could observe without crowding anyone, a notepad open on her knee. The case workers were speaking softly with a few of the older children. Caleb was watching the whole thing with his arms crossed, but he hadn't moved to block anyone. A good sign.
"Sure," Leon said.
Cecil led him toward the hallway, far enough from the living area that the conversation wouldn't carry.
"You remember what you told me last night about D.A. Sinclair?"
Leon's posture shifted. "Yeah. What about him?"
"I had agents at Upstate University within three hours of leaving this room." Cecil's voice was flat and clinical. "Pulled his academic records, his lab access, his housing, his movements. Nothing stood out on paper, but one of my people noticed a pattern in his off-campus activity. He was renting a storage unit under a fake name about half a mile from the university. Paid in cash."
Leon said nothing. He already knew where this was going.
"We caught the lunatic in the middle of a lobotomy procedure in an underground sewer lab beneath the unit," Cecil said. "He'd converted the space into a surgical theater. Homemade cybernetic components, surgical tools, restraints. The works. The kid on the table was a sophomore who'd been reported missing four days ago."
Leon frowned. "Is the student alive?"
"Alive. Barely. Sinclair had already started the neural integration process. Our medical team managed to stabilize him, but the damage to his prefrontal cortex is…" Cecil paused, choosing his next words. "Significant. We don't know yet if it's reversible."
Leon looked at the floor.
Four days. That student has been missing for four days, strapped to a table while Sinclair cut into his brain. And if I hadn't told Cecil last night, no one would have found him until it was too late.
"How many?" Leon asked. "Before the sophomore."
"We found remains of at least two prior subjects in the lab. Both too far gone to identify on-site. Forensics is working on it." Cecil's expression didn't change, but the weight behind the words was there. "Your intel was accurate. Down to the lobotomy."
Leon exhaled through his nose. A quiet, controlled sound.
"Where is Sinclair now?"
"GDA custody. Secure facility. He's not going anywhere." Cecil studied Leon for a moment. "I'll be honest with you, this one validated more of your information than anything else you've given me so far. I can attribute some of what you told me last night to good intel networks or lucky guesses. But knowing a specific college student was conducting illegal cybernetic surgery before anyone in my organization had heard his name? That's harder to explain away."
"I told you my vision was real."
"You did. And I told you I'd verify before I believed." Cecil's lips pressed into a thin line. "Consider this one verified."
Good thing nothing changed with Sinclair.
"What's the plan with him?" Leon asked. "You already know what he's capable of building. And you know what's coming."
Cecil didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted back toward the living area, where Dr. Ellison was now sitting cross-legged on the floor near Mia, maintaining a respectful distance while the girl watched her with those sharp, evaluating eyes.
"I'm weighing my options," Cecil said. "His methods are reprehensible. The fact that he was using living subjects tells me everything I need to know about his moral compass. But the technology itself…"
"Is too useful to throw away," Leon finished.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Cecil looked at him in silence for a moment.
"If I were to make use of his expertise," Cecil said slowly, "it would be under conditions so restrictive he wouldn't be able to sneeze without authorization. Dead subjects only. Full GDA oversight. And if he so much as looks at a living person the wrong way, he goes into a hole so deep even I'd need a map to find him."
"That's more or less what happened in my vision," Leon said. "Just make sure the leash is short. The man's deranged, Cecil. He doesn't see people as people. Well, not right now, anyway. He comes around. Eventually."
Cecil grunted. "Noted."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, matte-black device roughly the size of a pager. He held it out to Leon.
"Encrypted communicator. Direct line to me and Donald. More reliable than a phone number on a card, and it won't show up on any civilian network."
Leon took it, turning it over once before storing it in his subspace. "Appreciated."
"One more thing," Cecil said. He lowered his voice further. "The student Sinclair was operating on. His name is Rick Sheridan. Twenty years old. Engineering major. His family's been notified, but they don't know the full extent of what was done to him. They think it was an abduction."
Leon filed the name. Rick Sheridan.
"If there are other students Sinclair targeted before him that we haven't found," Cecil continued, "I'll need you to think hard about whether your visions showed you anything else related to his operation. Names, locations, how many ReAnimen he produced before he was caught in your timeline. Anything."
"I'll go through what I remember and get back to you," Leon said. "But from what I saw, the number wasn't high before Mark got involved. You caught him early."
"Early enough for Rick Sheridan?"
The question hung between them.
"I don't know," Leon whispered. "I hope so."
Cecil held his gaze for another second, then nodded once and turned back toward the living area. "My team will be here for the rest of the day. I'll have transport arranged by tomorrow morning. You'll be notified before anyone is moved."
"Cecil."
The director paused.
"Thank you for acting on it quickly," Leon said. "Most people would have waited for more evidence."
"Most people don't have a precog telling them a college student is performing brain surgery in a basement." Cecil adjusted his collar. "Besides, I told you I'd verify. Can't verify by sitting on my ass."
He walked back toward Donald, and the conversation was over.
OOO
The GDA team worked through the morning and into the early afternoon. Leon stayed in the Suite the entire time, available but not hovering. He answered questions when the case workers needed context about how the children were found, provided what medical history he could based on the injuries he'd healed, and kept his distance when the professionals were doing their jobs.
Around one in the afternoon, Cecil left with Donald. The medical team stayed behind, continuing their assessments. Dr. Ellison had made remarkable progress with a few of the children. Mia still hadn't spoken to her directly, but she'd stopped tracking the woman's every movement with that vigilant stare, which was progress in its own right.
By mid-afternoon, the team had settled into a self-sufficient rhythm that no longer required Leon's presence in the room. The children were being cared for by people trained to do exactly this.
Which meant Leon was out of excuses.
He found Lily on the kitchen counter, still in his small form, finishing the last of a kiwi. Nyx was asleep on the armchair, her head tucked under one wing.
"They don't need me anymore," Leon said.
"They haven't needed you since the medical team arrived," Lily corrected, not unkindly. "You stayed because you wanted to. There's no shame in that."
Leon leaned against the counter and let out a long breath. "Yeah. Guess I did."
A pause settled between them.
"You mentioned this morning that my preparation should go beyond physical conditioning," Leon said.
"I did."
"You also told me during our first meeting that you wouldn't go easy on me during our sparring sessions."
Lily's tail stopped mid-sway. He looked up at Leon, and something shifted in his expression. The soft, patient presence that had defined him throughout the morning, the Lily who peeled fruit and watched over children and tolerated a crow's territorial cawing, receded.
What replaced it was older. Harder. The red eyes that met Leon's were those of a commander who had led soldiers through a war.
"I did say that," Lily confirmed. His voice dropped half an octave. "Are you certain? You've had a long night and an even longer morning. There's no dishonor in resting first."
"I've been resting." Leon straightened up. "The threats I told you about this morning aren't going to wait for me to feel ready. Every day I don't train is a day closer to a fight I'm not prepared for."
Lily set the kiwi down. He hopped off the counter and landed on the floor without a sound.
"Very well. Change into something you don't mind ruining. I'll meet you in the gym."
Leon pushed off the counter and headed for his room. Behind him, he heard the faint hum of energy that preceded Lily's transformation, the air in the kitchen thickening for a half-second before the sound of heavy footsteps replaced the soft padding of small paws.
By the time Leon reached the gym in a plain black shirt and training pants, Lily was already there.
The exceed stood at the center of the reinforced mats in his full battle form, seven feet of corded muscle and midnight fur. The Musica Sword rested across his back, its blade sheathed. His arms were crossed, his tail perfectly still, and his red eyes tracked Leon the moment he stepped through the doorway.
The gym felt smaller with Lily in it.
"Ground rules," Lily said. "You fight me with your body and nothing else."
Leon blinked. "That takes away most of my toolkit."
"That's the point. Your toolkit is a crutch." Lily uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulders, the motion rippling through his frame with a predatory fluidity. "You've taught yourself to fight by watching videos and hitting bags that don't hit back. You have raw ability and you have instincts, but you don't have discipline. Furthermore, the people you've fought so far relied solely on their powers and weapons. You don't know what it feels like to be outclassed by someone yet."
"And you're going to teach me that?"
"No." Lily's lips pulled back, exposing a row of fangs in what was technically a smile. "I'm going to show you."
He drew the Musica Sword. The blade expanded as it cleared the sheath, growing from a greatsword into something closer to a slab of sharpened iron that caught the gym's light along its edge. He planted it tip-down into the mat and rested both hands on the pommel.
"Removal is permitted. Fight Mode is permitted. You may use Reinforcement on your body only. Come at me however you wish." Lily's tail gave a single, slow flick. "When I decide you've had enough, I'll tell you."
Leon rolled his neck. His skin flushed purple as Removal and Fight Mode kicked in, veins surfacing along his entire body.
"Fine by me." He grinned, his heart pounding for a fight. "Let's dance!"