The Vanguard's temporary base in Manchester was a gutted high-rise overlooking the city's shattered skyline. The team worked tirelessly to secure their hold on the city, but Dark Ant kept his distance, retreating to the highest floor of the building to be alone with his thoughts.
The rusted charm from Lana's necklace rested in his palm, its edges digging into his skin as he clutched it tightly. The memory of her mechanical body—her distorted voice, her lifeless eyes—played on an endless loop in his mind.
The door creaked open behind him, and Christopher stepped inside, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a familiar grin tugging at his mouth.
"Mind if I join you, mate?" Christopher asked, his voice carrying its usual irreverence.
Ant didn't turn around. "Do what you want."
Christopher sauntered over, dropping down onto a crumbling chair with a groan. "Hell of a view, isn't it?" he said, gesturing to the ruined city. "Nothing like a post-apocalyptic wasteland to really make you appreciate the little things."
Ant's silence stretched between them.
Christopher leaned back, reaching into his jacket to pull out a small tin. He popped it open, revealing a collection of brightly coloured pills and neatly rolled joints.
"Look," Christopher said, his tone softer now. "I know what it's like to lose someone. Hell, I've been having tea with ghosts since I was a kid. If you want, I've got something here that'll take the edge off. Just for a bit."
Ant's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "You think I want to forget her?"
Christopher raised an eyebrow. "I think you want to stop the hurt. And this—" he shook the tin slightly, the pills rattling inside—"helps."
Ant finally turned to face him, his eyes blazing with anger. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it? Numb the pain, drown it out, pretend it's not there."
Christopher frowned, his usual smirk fading. "It's not about pretending. It's about survival."
"No," Ant snapped, his voice rising. "It's about giving up. If you want to waste your life in a drug-induced haze, that's your choice. But don't you dare offer your misery to me."
Christopher sat back, exhaling a long plume of smoke. "You think I like this?" he asked, his voice low. "You think I wake up every day and decide, 'Oh, let's see how much I can mess myself up today?'"
Ant crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. "You're not doing anything to fix it. You're just running away."
Christopher's laugh was bitter. "And what are you doing? Sitting up here, wallowing in guilt and rage, pretending you're better than me because you're not popping pills?"
Ant's fists clenched, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I'm trying to face it. To deal with it. Not drown it in whatever poison you've got in that tin."
Christopher met his gaze, the tension between them thick and heavy. For a moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Christopher sighed, snapping the tin shut and tucking it back into his jacket. "Fair enough," he said, his tone begrudgingly respectful. "But for what it's worth, mate, facing it doesn't mean doing it alone."
After Christopher left, Ant remained by the window, his thoughts a turbulent storm. He wanted to hate Christopher for his flippant attitude, for offering an escape that felt like a betrayal of Lana's memory. But part of him couldn't.
He understood the appeal of forgetting, of numbing the pain. But he also knew that wasn't what Lana would have wanted.
He opened his hand, staring down at the rusted charm. It was all he had left of her, a fragment of a life stolen too soon.
"I'll make it mean something," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
The next morning, Ant joined the rest of the team in the makeshift command centre. His steps were heavy, but his resolve was firm.
Swift Angel looked up from the map spread across the table, his grey eyes narrowing slightly. "Good to see you, Ant. You ready to get back to work?"
Ant nodded. "I'm ready."
Shadowleaf raised an eyebrow, her expression sceptical. "You sure about that? Last night you looked ready to burn the city to the ground."
Ant's gaze met hers, his voice steady. "I'm sure. But I'm not just fighting for us anymore. I'm fighting for her."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over the team.
Christopher smirked, though there was a trace of genuine respect in his eyes. "Welcome back, mate."
As The Vanguard prepared for their next move, Ant found himself feeling... lighter. The pain was still there, sharp and unrelenting, but it no longer felt like it would swallow him whole.
He wasn't sure if he'd ever fully heal, but for now, he had a purpose. And that was enough.