Backdated to May 4
Adria had been hurt. Not so badly that he'd die, but badly enough that he'd panicked.
And messaged Michel.
He hadn't known if his brother would show up, but he was injured, and hiding, and bleeding out, and--
Well, he'd almost been killed by a Negaverse agent once before.
He could have called any number of people to come help him.
But he wanted his brother.
It was a strange, primal logic. He hadn't really been aware of what was going on until suddenly Michel was there, and he heard the metal of sword on sword. Someone cried out in pain, too high pitched to be Michel, but there was a shrill hum in his ears, and the world was tilting--almost upside down. Adria was hot, overheated, but frozen too. He shivered violently and kept his arms wrapped around himself.
Michel found him like that. Picked him up and teleported to his Wonder.
His first aid skills were abysmal, but thankfully Adria wasn't badly injured.
Just poisoned.
As with most places on Saturn, Mont Saint Michel was dreary and unnerving--probably not the best place to take someone who was already hallucinating--but after a few stern words, Adria calmed down enough to listen. Michel made him power down first, and cleaned and dressed the wound. The poison was a weird, sticky substance, that mostly disappeared when he powered down. Michel cleaned the rest, and ten minutes later, Malcolm wasn't babbling anymore. He was tired. Mumbling.
Michel let him sleep for fifteen minutes, and watched him breathe for all of it. Then, he woke him up and forced him to eat, and drink.
Malcolm had sobered up by then and was able to explain what had happened--he'd powered up to take care of a youma and been ambushed. He hadn't been doing anything dangerous. He wasn't making trouble.
Michel nagged him for a bit, but Malcolm looked so tired and pathetic that it wasn't even worth it. The poison had worked its way out of his system, so then he was just tired, and wanted to go home. Of course he said he could get there himself. Michel had a million reasons why he shouldn't try.
Maybe the Negaverse was waiting to ambush him when they got back. Maybe someone would mug him while he was feeling weak. Maybe he'd pass out somewhere unsafe. Maybe he'd get hit by a car.
Having kids made Zac worry a bit more, and he just felt better when he was in control in all areas where things could go wrong.
Malcolm lost the battle even before he'd stood up too quickly, wilted, and nearly collapsed on himself.
The plan was supposed to be simple: Zac helps him home. Zac sneaks him inside. Zac smuggles him upstairs to his room. Zac leaves.
They made it home.
Malcolm still lived with their parents. Zac had grown up in the home and moved out after high school. Well--no. Zack had.
Zac had never stepped foot in the home.
Which was probably why his father looked like he was about to call the police when 'some stranger' showed up holding a dizzy, half-conscious Malcolm. His parents had always been protective of their youngest.
Malcolm's sputtering, half-slurred words were not very convincing, and no one was going to believe that he'd been out drinking.
Of course their father would assume some nefarious stranger was creeping in with plans to take advantage of his poor son.
He had a fire poker in one hand and his phone in the other, and Zac didn't want to deal with his father's wrath or the police.
But Malcolm hadn't let go. And if Zac didn't clear things up, it was going to end badly.
And, maybe, he'd always been looking for an excuse to tell them.
He'd spent years 'away'. Years 'overseas'. Years of reasons why he couldn't come home. Excuses for why he sounded different, why he never shared a picture.
Zac missed his family.
Missed his life.
So when the opportunity came to tell them--
Yeah. He caved.
Stressing, and sulking, and scowling.
Malcolm vouched for him, words tumbling out in an adrenaline-fueled rush before his father could think too seriously about calling the police
Mom showed up by then, awakened by the commotion.
That made it worse.
And, better.
She knew her son no matter what face he wore. She knew as soon as she looked at him. As soon as she heard him. As soon as she hugged him.
His father needed more reassurance, but twenty questions later, he was convinced.
And a hundred questions later, they knew about magic. The war. Senshi, Knights, the Negaverse.
Evan. Talia.
The boys.
Their concern rapidly shifted to excitement.
Once he started talking, they wouldn't let him leave.
He didn't mind.
Malcolm fell asleep around four in the morning.
Zac stayed up all night.
When the sun came up, his mother made him breakfast.
They didn't want him to leave.
He didn't want to leave.
And--he didn't. Not until they understood how important it was that they keep quiet about this. Until they understood how much danger they could be in.
For them, family was worth the risk.
It was too late to go back, anyway.
