The morning sunlight streamed through the living room window, casting a soft glow over the quiet scene. Jack shifted in the armchair, stretching his arms with a groan. The stiffness in his shoulder pulled at the fresh bandages, but he didn't let it stop him from sitting up straighter.
"Alright," he announced, his voice breaking the silence. "I need to get going."
Rachel, seated beside the couch where Alastor rested, blinked at him in surprise. "Going? You're still recovering. Where exactly do you think you're heading?"
Jack smirked, the faintest hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "I've got a date tonight."
The room collectively stilled for a moment. Mr. Thompson arched a brow, setting his hands on his hips. "A date?"
Emily, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, gave Jack a side glance before answering for him. "Yeah, with some girl. Hannah, right?"
Jack leaned back slightly, a proud grin spreading across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, yeah. Her name's Hannah. We met at the dojo—turns out she's been doing martial arts for a couple of years now. She's sharp, confident, and honestly? Pretty amazing."
Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "The dojo? Since when are you into martial arts—and I mean karate?"
Jack chuckled, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his tone. "Since recently. Figured it was time to learn something new—and, you know, be ready if anything happens again. She's the one who encouraged me to stick with it."
Emily gave a playful smirk, arms still crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. "So you're saying you joined a karate class and scored a date all in one go? Impressive, Jack."
Jack raised his hands in mock defense, his grin widening. "Hey, I'm just saying it pays to block punches and meet cool people at the same time."
Mr. Thompson chimed in, his tone teasing. "Well, I'll give it to you, Jack. A date and self-defense lessons? That's killing two birds with one stone."
Rachel leaned forward, her smile genuine. "Okay, but details! What's she like? And what are you planning for tonight?"
Jack shrugged, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. "She's... real. You know? Confident, funny, and not afraid to tell it like it is. As for tonight, nothing fancy—just grabbing some food, maybe a walk. Keeping it simple."
Mr. Thompson's brow furrowed thoughtfully, as he looked at Jack. "Have you always been into martial arts, or is this new?"
Rachel tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. "Actually, now that you mention it…" Her voice softened as a memory surfaced. "Jack, wasn't it after the Sarah Lee concert disaster? You said something about wanting to do more—be more prepared. Is that when this started?"
Jack nodded, his grin fading slightly. "Yeah. After everything that happened with the cult, I felt like I needed to step up, you know? So I've been taking classes for the past few weeks. It's been… good for me."
Emily smirked, her tone teasing as she interjected. "That explains why you fought so well against those masked guys last night."
Her words hung in the air for a beat. Mr. Thompson and Rachel exchanged a glance, their attention snapping back to Jack. Rachel's brows furrowed in concern, though her mind briefly flickered to Alastor, who had been the real focus of her worry. "Fought? You didn't mention fighting when you called."
Jack shrugged nonchalantly, though the motion made him wince slightly. "I don't remember all of it, to be honest. Just bits and pieces. But yeah… it got rough."
Rachel opened her mouth to press him further, but Mr. Thompson placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "Let him go for now. He's got enough on his plate without us interrogating him."
Jack shot Mr. Thompson a grateful smile and stood, stretching carefully. "Thanks, Thompson. And don't worry, I'm not jumping into anything crazy. Just heading home to clean up and get ready for tonight."
He turned to Emily, his expression softening. "Thanks for patching me up, Doc. You're a lifesaver." Before stepping out, he winked playfully. "Take care of Alastor for me, will you?"
Emily's cheeks flushed a faint pink as she glanced away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, yeah. Just go before you're late."
Rachel caught the subtle shift in Emily's demeanor, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. Blushing? Over Jack's comment? Or… something else? Her gaze flickered to Alastor briefly before returning to Emily, a tangle of emotions stirring in her chest.
"Have fun," Rachel said, her tone genuine but slightly distracted as she watched Jack grab his jacket and head out the door.
As the door clicked shut, silence fell over the room again. Rachel tilted her head, stealing another glance at Emily. She hesitated before speaking. "What was that about?"
Emily turned toward Rachel, her brow furrowing slightly. "What was what about?"
Rachel shook her head, looking briefly at Alastor, then back to Emily. "Nothing," she muttered, her voice softer now, but her unease lingered.
Emily didn't press further. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall and letting her gaze drift to Alastor, who still rested on the couch. Rachel's own gaze lingered on him as well, her conflicting feelings bubbling to the surface once more.
For now, neither woman spoke. The quiet tension in Emily's apartment lingered after Jack's departure, the sound of the door closing behind him barely registering. Mr. Thompson shifted uncomfortably near the couch where Alastor rested, his gaze flitting to the clock on the wall. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced toward Emily and Rachel, who were now standing near the doorway.
"Emily," he began, his tone hesitant but firm, "I really should get back to the café. There's a lot to do, but…" His eyes moved to Alastor, his brow furrowing. "I don't feel right leaving him like this."
Emily nodded, her expression softening. "You don't have to go just yet. Stay as long as you need," she said. She hesitated, exchanging a look with Rachel. "Actually, Rachel and I were going to step into my room for a bit to talk, if that's alright."
Mr. Thompson raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly. "Go ahead. I'll keep an eye on him."
With that, Emily motioned Rachel toward the hallway, her movements calm but deliberate. The tension between them was palpable as they entered Emily's small, cluttered room, and Emily closed the door behind them. For a moment, the two women stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
Rachel broke the silence first. "So, you know," she said, her voice quiet but tinged with disbelief. Her arms crossed defensively, but there was curiosity in her gaze. "What exactly do you know?"
Emily leaned against the doorframe, her arms loosely crossed. "Enough to know that Alastor isn't exactly… normal," she admitted, her voice measured. "And enough to realize that you've known for a while."
Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly, her defenses rising. "How did you figure it out?"
Emily sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to collect her thoughts. "Last night," she started, her tone steady. "I was at the bar. Everything was fine until this group of masked men showed up. They were looking for someone… someone named Solvaris Tharion."
Rachel's breath hitched slightly, and Emily caught the subtle shift in her posture. "You know that name, don't you?" Emily pressed.
Rachel hesitated but nodded slowly. "That's Alastor. Or, at least, that's one of his names."
"Thought so," Emily muttered. "They kept shouting it, demanding to know where he was. I didn't know what was happening, so I stayed out of sight. But then…" She paused, her brow furrowing. "One of them said something else. 'Astraliros.' Does that ring a bell?"
Rachel's eyes widened, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across her face. "No," she admitted, her voice quiet. "He's never told me that. But… it doesn't surprise me. There's so much he hasn't said."
Emily nodded, her gaze dropping briefly. "I didn't understand it at first, but I think it's tied to who—or what—he really is. Anyway, I stayed hidden for as long as I could, but when things started escalating, I ran back into the bar. That's when I saw him fighting."
Rachel's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze sharpening. "You saw?"
"I saw everything," Emily confirmed, her voice growing quieter. "The way he moved, the way he fought… it wasn't human. And then there was this… energy. It came off him like heat, like something alive."
Rachel swallowed hard, her defenses softening slightly. "He's… complicated," she said simply.
Emily let out a small, bitter laugh. "That's one way to put it." Her expression turned serious again as she continued. "Jack got involved too. I don't know what he was thinking, but he jumped into the fight. He held his own for a while, but he got hurt—his shoulder, I mean. And that's when everything fell apart."
Rachel's gaze darkened. "What happened?"
Emily's voice wavered slightly as she replied, the memory still vivid in her mind. "Alastor tried to protect him. He jumped in front of Jack, and the leader of the masked men threw this blade. It… it went right through his chest." She paused, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I thought he was going to die, Rachel. I've never seen anything like it."
Rachel's expression hardened, her emotions clearly in turmoil. "But he didn't."
"No," Emily said softly. "He didn't. Somehow, he destroyed the blade—and every other weapon in that place—with just a clap. The force of it was… terrifying. It's what gave Jack that head injury, I think. He was too close to the blast."
Rachel's jaw tightened, her mind racing. "And Jack doesn't remember any of this?"
Emily shook her head. "No. He remembers bits and pieces, but not Alastor's powers. And I think it's better that way." She hesitated before adding, "We need to keep it that way. For his sake."
Rachel's eyes softened, though the weight of everything Emily had shared was clearly weighing on her. "You're right," she said quietly. "It's better if Jack doesn't know."
Emily nodded, her expression unreadable. For a moment, the two women stood in silence, the enormity of the situation settling over them. Finally, Emily spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's so much I don't understand. About him. About all of this. But… I want to help him, Rachel. Even if I don't know how."
Rachel met her gaze, a flicker of gratitude crossing her face. "You already have," she said simply.
Emily glanced away, her thoughts clouded with questions and uncertainties. "Let's just hope it's enough."
Rachel's brow furrowed as her gaze dropped to the floor, her lips pursed in thought. Then, she raised her eyes back to Emily. "The blade… the one that pierced his chest. How did it get through him? That shouldn't be possible."
Emily tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Rachel took a breath, leaning back against the wall. "Normally, sharp objects—or any kind of weapon—shouldn't even scratch him. Alastor's… condition makes him almost untouchable by conventional means."
Emily's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. "But this wasn't exactly conventional, was it?"
Rachel shook her head. "No. It couldn't have been. It was probably a Starbreaker weapon."
The name sent a chill through Emily, sparking a memory. "Starbreaker…" she murmured, her brow furrowing. "That sounds familiar. Wait—when we were dealing with the Eclipsed Order cult a few weeks back, they mentioned something about the Starbreaker. They even had some sort of weapon they used against him—it was like a gun, but it wasn't anything I've ever seen before."
Rachel nodded slowly, her expression grim. "That makes sense. Starbreakers are classified weapons, enhanced with dark magic. They're specifically designed to counter Alastor's abilities, neutralizing or weakening his star powers. It's the only way they could have hurt him like that."
Emily's mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "That explains so much," she murmured. Her gaze drifted toward the door, her thoughts returning to the scene at the bar. "He seemed so… diminished. I've never seen him like that. I didn't understand why it hit him so hard, but now… it makes sense."
Rachel's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's the only explanation. Those weapons were made to take someone like him down."
Emily let out a slow breath, her arms dropping to her sides. "And here I thought I'd seen everything," she said softly. Her gaze returned to Rachel. "So, without something like a Starbreaker, nothing can hurt him?"
"Not unless it's magical or infused with some kind of energy that disrupts his condition," Rachel replied. "Otherwise, his durability is absolute."
Emily's mind lingered on the thought, the reality of Alastor's condition weighing heavily. "It's terrifying," she said after a pause. "And incredible."
Rachel's expression softened slightly, her voice quiet. "It's who he is. And it's also why he keeps so much to himself."
Emily nodded slowly, understanding dawning on her. "Because if people knew… they'd come after him. Like those masked men did."
"Exactly," Rachel said. Her tone carried an undercurrent of frustration. "And it's why he pushes people away. It's easier than risking anyone getting caught in the crossfire."
Emily leaned back against her desk, her hands gripping the edge tightly. "Well, I don't care," she said firmly. "He saved Jack's life. He fought to protect everyone at that bar, even though it almost killed him. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines while people like those masked men keep coming for him."
Rachel studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she offered a small nod. "He's lucky to have you on his side, Emily."
Emily blinked at the unexpected compliment, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "Thanks," she said softly.
For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of their conversation settling over them.
Emily hesitated, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as she watched Rachel carefully. The weight of their conversation lingered, but a new question burned at the forefront of her mind. She looked down, her voice quieter this time.
"Rachel," Emily began slowly, "there's something else I need to know."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in tone. "What is it?"
Emily exhaled deeply, meeting Rachel's gaze with a mix of determination and unease. "Derek. Or… Levanzo. Whatever the hell happened there. I need to know the truth."
Rachel's expression darkened, her posture stiffening. Her jaw tightened as she looked away, her hands gripping the edge of the desk behind her. "Emily… that's not for me to say."
"Not for you to say?" Emily repeated, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I've been chasing this for weeks. Derek was my best friend. I deserve answers."
Rachel sighed, her voice low but firm. "I get it. I do. But this… it's complicated. And it's not my story to tell."
Emily stared at her, disbelief flickering in her eyes. "You know something, don't you? About Derek. About Levanzo."
Rachel's gaze softened, but her resolve didn't waver. "You're not wrong," she admitted quietly. "But if you want the whole truth, you're going to have to ask Alastor. He's the one who can tell you."
Emily clenched her fists at her sides, torn between anger and understanding. She knew Rachel wasn't withholding out of malice, but the evasion only fueled her frustration. "Fine," she muttered, her tone clipped. "I'll wait until he wakes up."
Rachel gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. "It's better that way. Alastor… he has a way of explaining things that I can't."
Emily's lips pressed, shifting uneasily, with her arms still crossed. She could feel the weight of Rachel's gaze on her, but her own thoughts were spiraling.
"There's… one more thing," Emily murmured, her voice low, almost hesitant.
Rachel's brow furrowed as she straightened up slightly. "What is it?"
Emily took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before she forced herself to look at Rachel. "Back at the bar, when everything was going down… I did something impulsive. Stupid, even."
Rachel tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What kind of impulsive?"
Emily hesitated, the words sticking in her throat. But she knew she had to get it out, if only to ease the awkwardness building inside her. "I kissed him," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rachel's eyes widened, her surprise momentarily breaking through her usually composed demeanor. "You kissed Alastor?"
Emily nodded, her face flushing. "Yeah. I don't even know why I did it. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the alcohol or…" She trailed off, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. "I just wanted to be honest about it because, well… it's been eating at me."
Rachel's nails dug into her palm as her expression quickly shifted back to something more neutral, though her internal thoughts were a storm. She kissed him. Emily kissed Alastor. The words repeated in her mind, accompanied by an unfamiliar pang of jealousy she wasn't prepared to face. But she refused to let it show.
Instead, Rachel spoke in an even tone, choosing her words carefully. "Did he… kiss you back?"
Emily looked away briefly before meeting Rachel's gaze. "Yeah, he did. But only for a second. He pulled away."
Rachel swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She kept her tone calm, though the undercurrent of emotion threatened to seep through. "Were you drunk?" she asked, her voice soft but probing.
Emily let out a small, nervous laugh. "Probably. I mean, I was at a bar, and I'd had a few drinks. It's the most likely explanation."
Rachel gave a subtle nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly. That explanation brought a measure of relief, though the knot of jealousy in her chest remained. She wanted to say more, to ask more, but she held back. Instead, she managed a faint smile. "Well, at least you're honest about it."
Emily shrugged, her lips quirking in a self-deprecating smile. "Honest and awkward, yeah. I just… didn't want it to feel like some weird secret. Especially after… everything."
Rachel nodded again, though her mind was racing. The image of Alastor and Emily kissing played on an endless loop in her thoughts, feeding a conflict she didn't fully understand. She told herself it didn't matter—after all, Alastor wasn't hers to feel anything about. But the tension in her chest refused to dissipate.
The two women exchanged a brief, strained glance before Emily turned away, pacing toward the window. Rachel remained seated, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as her own internal storm brewed.
The conversation had ended, but the unease lingered, unspoken and unresolved.