#and my burritos been in the microwave for the past 30 min

[fishfraud]

I can't believe that to make things I have to actually make the things. Ridiculous.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

30 min writings 1

Prompt: Sidestep, Herald, blink and it’s Jed. Thanks Smute. Not proofread.

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"Where are we going?" You don't cling tighter, Daniel doesn't fly too fast, not tonight. You're in his arms, with one of your own wrapped around his shoulder. Companionable. Both in civilian clothes, despite the way the wind cuts into you when airborne.

"It's not far," Danny says, a little too loudly in your ear, used to the wind stealing words and meaning. For you, it wouldn't have mattered, his thoughts are clear enough to provide what meaning your ears might have missed.

Clear like the skies above.

There's a red tint to the distant hills, another autumn fire. If it had been the old days, and if it had been Sentinel carrying you, you would have been dropped to the streets already. He would have been needed back there, fighting the flames, but Danny can't control winds. Just his own body. Others fight the flames these days.

You're a little grateful for that.

"You're getting better with your shields," you say, tightening your grip as Daniel descends, a little too fast as always, your stomach twisting in familiar alarm.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." The landing is soft, and you collect your guts before your feet hit the ground, leaning against him for a moment as gravity asserts itself.

It feels so different than flying with Sentinel, there you were always conscious of the wind, of how the air buffeted you, fought with you, even though it carried you both without complaining. With Daniel it's falling forward, the vertigo turning your sense of direction upside down, his body suddenly the planet you're drawn towards. Perhaps it's Heartbreak, that memory of falling that still lingers.

Won't die. Just like you.

"I don't like surprises," you growl, because it's true, but it's also true that your frown softens into a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss. Weak. Soft. Wanting. Him or you?

"It's been here for years." Danny's voice is soft, as soft as his steps as he half walks, half drifts along the street. It's late, even by Los Diablos standards, and there's nobody around to care. Residential area. The stores closed. Well, most of them. There's a corner store ahead, tired minds awake despite the hour, just a clerk and people in need of smokes. Or a beer. Or a microwave burrito before bed.

It's so familiar, you've seen hundreds of these tired little stores, surrounded by the ordinary lives of Los Diablos. Broke. Worn down. Still hanging in there.

"What's been here?" You scan the street but there's nothing here, except the store, and Danny holds your hand and drags you past it, into the alley, behind the dumpster, there's...

There's light there. Candles. Long burning ones in jars, fit for gravesites and fond memories. They illuminate a mural on the wall opposite the dumpster. Massive, larger than life, layers of paint, years of flaking and being filled in. Sprayed. Brushed on. Not by the same hand, though Danny's the expert there. This is the work of a community, people taking care and fixing up, adding details, bringing offerings. There's flowers there, not the fancy ones you've seen in the Memorial Park, but simple ones, growing wild in deserted lots and cracked roadways. Maybe it's the scale of it that makes you take a step back, trying to parse what it is you're seeing.

The hooded face. The familiar, stylized mask. The brilliant turquoise almost glowing in the dark, the grays and blacks mixing with the dirt, in stark contrast to the golden halo that surrounds you.

Surrounds Sidestep.

"What the fuck." The word slips out, not even a question.

"They remember you. There's half a dozen scattered across town, but this is my favorite." Danny looks up at the wall, not touching, but taking in the mural, illuminated by the candles below.

"Why..." You take another step back, but there's a dumpster behind you, a far more fitting memorial. Is this familiar? Were you here? In that store? Did you help someone? Save someone? Danny doesn't know, and you don't remember. You don't remember.

Did you use to save people? You want to shake your head, but you feel frozen, watching Danny, all soft gold and happy smile, sharing what should have been a happy memory with you. Showing you that people remember, even if you have forgotten. That someone comes here to light candles and place flowers. Too many for one pair of hands. People. No. This is...

Wrong. This is wrong. This is the past, no matter how much Danny wants to drag it into the present.

It takes a while for Daniel to notice that you have turned and left.

Into the dark.