Chapter 27: Ordinary Ghosts
The rain came in light, harmless waves, tapping gently against the windows of the safehouse. It had followed them back from the diner, but none of them minded. The city outside was still humming, but inside their world, things had gone still.
It was the first time in a long while that the team returned not to tension, or bloodied files, or frenzied briefings—but to silence. A good kind of silence.
Hana kicked off her boots the moment she walked in. "Finally. I forgot what sitting still felt like."
"Not for long," Damian warned, stretching with a loud yawn. "I give us six hours before the next existential crisis."
Audrey chuckled as she closed the door behind them, brushing off her coat. "Then we should use the time wisely."
Kenzo slipped past them with a quiet, habitual nod. Already halfway through calculating how much sleep they might squeeze in before chaos returned.
"Anyone hungry?" Audrey asked from the small kitchen.
Damian immediately raised his hand. "Always. Let me cook. I've been told I make a mean omelet."
"By who?" Hana asked, lifting a brow.
"Myself. Repeatedly."
Kenzo muttered, "This feels like a controlled disaster."
But Audrey had already handed Damian a frying pan and a look of amused surrender.
Minutes later, the kitchen was thick with sizzling sounds and a faint, ominous aroma.
"Damian, what is that smell?"
"It's flavor developing. Don't be judgmental."
Hana peeked into the pan and recoiled. "That egg is fighting for its life."
Audrey tried to hide her laugh behind a mug of tea but failed. The sound slipped out, genuine and light.
Kenzo looked over from the table, mildly alarmed. "Did Audrey just laugh?"
"Write it down," Hana said dryly. "Put it in the logbook."
"I'll bronze the spatula," Damian said proudly, flipping a very burnt something onto a plate.
It was absurd. Messy. Uncoordinated.
But it was the closest thing to normal they'd had in months.
Later, with plates mostly cleared and the smell of burned eggs slowly fading, Hana stepped out to the balcony. The rain had lessened into a drizzle.
Audrey joined her a few moments later, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate.
She handed one to Hana without a word.
They stood side by side, watching the reflections of neon lights shimmer across the wet street below.
"You're good with them," Hana said after a long moment.
"The team?"
"Yeah. The mission. The chaos. Kenzo. Even Damian somehow. You keep them together."
Audrey sipped her drink. "I just... try not to fall apart. So they don't, either."
"Still. It's something. You get people to trust you. Even when you don't say much."
"And you?" Audrey asked. "You see more than you let on. But you don't always say it."
"Because most of the time, it's not worth the breath. But... I see you. I get you."
Audrey turned slightly, searching Hana's expression. "You do?"
Hana nodded once. "You carry it all. Every scar. Every fear. Even when no one asks you to. That's INFJ energy right there."
Audrey laughed. "You looked that up, didn't you?"
"Kenzo wouldn't stop talking about it. I had to know what it meant."
"So what's ISTP energy, then?"
"Apparently, I'm a quiet weapon."
They both smiled, standing under the overhang as rain continued its quiet rhythm.
"I don't say this a lot," Hana said, voice low. "But I'm glad you're here. Not just because of the mission stuff. You made all of this feel... less heavy."
Audrey looked at her, surprised by the honesty.
"I used to think I had to carry everything alone," Audrey admitted. "That if I let go, everything would fall apart. But being with you guys—with you—it reminds me I don't have to be the only one holding it up."
Hana gave a small shrug. "Took me a while to realize you weren't just some perfect, composed strategist with a savior complex. You're human. And stubborn. And somehow exactly what this team needed."
They exchanged a look—one that said more than words could capture. Mutual respect. Shared pain. Quiet loyalty.
"For what it's worth," Hana added, softer now, "if you ever do fall apart, I got you."
Audrey's throat tightened. She gave a slow nod, touched. "And I've got you."
Inside, Damian had dozed off on the couch, a half-finished soda can in hand. Kenzo was typing again, but his shoulders were relaxed, his expression softer than usual.
But moments later, Kenzo set the laptop aside. Damian stirred and cracked one eye open.
"You know," Damian said, voice hoarse with sleep, "you don't always have to be the smartest guy in the room."
Kenzo arched a brow. "I'm not trying to be."
"Yeah, but you are. And I get it now. That's just... you. But it's nice to see you loosen up. You look less haunted."
Kenzo gave a soft chuckle. "Coming from you, that's oddly comforting."
Damian sat up, stretching with a grunt. "You've changed, man. Since our first mission. Since... all of it. It's a good change."
Kenzo hesitated, then said, "I didn't think I'd fit into this team. Thought I'd be the one in the background, the analyst. But turns out... I like being in the room."
Damian grinned. "You're more than in the room now. You're part of the damn spine."
They sat there for a moment, not needing more words.
From the outside, it was just a group of strangers playing house. But inside?
Inside, it was a team. Bruised, broken, stitched together by vengeance and purpose—but a team nonetheless.
And in that fragile pause between storms, they were something else too.
They were almost... ordinary.
Later that night, when the safehouse had gone quiet again, Kenzo found Audrey on the rooftop. The rain had stopped. The stars—rare and faint in the city—blinked shyly through wisps of passing clouds.
She didn't turn as he approached, but he heard her say softly, "Can't sleep either?"
"Not really," Kenzo replied, joining her at the railing. "Too much still spinning in my head."
"Yeah. Me too."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the skyline blink.
"You looked... different that night," he said eventually.
Audrey turned slightly, curious. "At Club Zero?"
"Yeah. Like... you became someone else, but also more yourself than I've ever seen. Confident. Terrifying, honestly. But in a good way."
She smiled, tilting her head. "I felt like I was standing at the edge of everything I ever feared. And I still walked forward."
Kenzo nodded, but his eyes lingered on her face. The starlight caught in her lashes, in the curve of her cheek. He was quiet for a moment too long.
"I wanted to tell you something that night. At the diner. But I didn't."
Audrey looked at him, patient. "What was it?"
He hesitated, then offered a small smile, but his voice was softer this time. "Just... that I've never seen anyone carry the weight you do. And somehow still walk like you're not crushed by it."
Audrey blinked.
"You were brilliant," he added. "Still are. Every damn day."
She looked away, lips pressed into a line that trembled slightly. "You should say things like that more often. It helps. More than you think."
Kenzo leaned on the railing a bit closer to her. "I'll work on it."
She smiled again. Not politely. But warmly.
And this time, the silence between them felt like a promise.
Below, a lighter flicked in the dark.
On a different edge of the rooftop, Hana lit a cigarette, pulling the smoke slowly into her lungs. She exhaled toward the night sky, eyes narrowed.
Footsteps approached.
"You're gonna get lung cancer, you know," Damian muttered, leaning against the opposite side of the wall.
"We're already dead, technically," Hana replied, not looking at him.
"Touché."
They stood in silence for a bit, the smoke curling between them.
"You did good," Damian said eventually.
Hana didn't respond. But she didn't argue either.
He added, "I know we don't talk about the... emotional crap much. But I see it. You care. Even if you pretend not to."
"Only about the mission," she said.
He gave a lopsided grin. "Sure. Just the mission."
Their eyes met. No one smiled.
But something settled.
They were learning each other. Like soldiers after battle, peeling back armor—not to be soft, but to breathe.
Minutes later, Damian and Hana were joined by Audrey and Kenzo up on the rooftop, none of them quite ready to sleep. They sat in a quiet circle, bundled in hoodies or jackets, sharing leftover drinks and city starlight.
Hana was the one who spoke first.
"Hey... do any of you ever think about... relationships?" she asked, exhaling a puff of smoke, not looking at anyone. "Like, if you had someone before all this—or maybe outside this?"
Kenzo shook his head. "Never really had time. I was always buried in work. Research, field ops, chasing ghosts with data. Relationships never made sense to me."
Damian scratched the back of his neck. "I mean... sure, I had a few things. Hookups. Stuff that didn't last. I never brought anyone home, though. My family—they always expected perfection. The idea of someone meeting them? Terrified me. Still does."
Audrey watched him for a moment. "Because if they didn't approve, you'd have to let them go?"
He gave a short laugh. "Exactly. So I just kept it casual. Easier that way. Safer."
Hana nodded slowly, thoughtful. "I never really let anyone get close. Didn't think they'd stick around anyway. So why bother? But... lately, I don't know. After all this... after everything we've seen, everything we've done—"
She paused, looking out into the city lights. "I think I want something real. Someone. Life's too damn short. I've been trying to be selfless for so long, focusing on my students, on saving people. But look where it got me."
She looked at them, then added with a small, self-aware laugh, "So after this? I think I'm gonna live my life. Just a little. Maybe a lot."
Damian raised his bottle in mock salute. "Hell yeah, you are."
"Maybe we're all a little broken," Audrey murmured. "But not beyond repair."
"Depends who you ask," Kenzo said.
"I'd ask you," Audrey replied, looking at him.
He met her eyes. And for a moment, it wasn't about saving the world. It was just four people trying to figure out what came after surviving.
Then Damian cleared his throat. "Alright, my turn. Audrey," he said, tilting his bottle toward her. "Was there someone special back home? Before... all of this?"
Audrey blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She didn't answer right away. Her fingers tapped lightly against her mug, thinking.
Kenzo, beside her, felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The air around him shifted. He wasn't sure if it was anger or sadness—only that the thought of someone hurting her made something deep in him twist. And yet, under all that, something else stirred—an ache he couldn't quite name. A quiet, jealous kind of ache, for not being the one she'd turned to then.
Audrey finally said, "There was someone. I thought he was the one. At first, everything felt... right. He made me feel seen, wanted. I don't know when it changed. Maybe I didn't want to see it. Maybe I thought I could fix it. But it didn't last... because it wasn't love. Not really. It was control."
She paused. The silence stretched, but no one interrupted.
"He was powerful. Obsessive. At first, he made me feel seen. Wanted. And then... he made me small. Unworthy. Everything I did had to be perfect. For him. When I tried to leave... he didn't let me. He hurt me. Badly."
Her voice didn't shake, but it dropped to something rawer.
"That's how I ended up in the hospital. Coma, broken ribs, the works. They never caught him. He had too many connections. And when I woke up... I didn't even know if he'd still be out there waiting. I had this gut feeling he might be. That he'd still be watching. Still angry. Still waiting for a chance to finish what he started."
She looked up toward the stars, her breath steady but hollow. "After that, I didn't get the chance to decide anything. I was in a coma. Time just... stopped. And when I woke up, the world had moved on without me. But I hadn't moved past him. I was stuck in that moment, in that fear. And maybe part of me still is."
Kenzo's breath caught slightly. His eyes shifted toward Audrey with something deeper than concern—grief, maybe, or guilt that he hadn't been there. And underneath it all, a quiet, stubborn need to protect her. Audrey noticed, and for a split second, her gaze softened in return.
"But lately... I've been wondering if I made the right choice. Maybe it's not about avoiding the fall. Maybe it's about knowing who's going to catch you."
Her voice gentled, but something solid remained beneath it.
Damian gave a thoughtful nod. "That's deep."
"You asked," she said, cracking the faintest smile.
Kenzo looked down, then up at her again. "I hope next time, you let someone try."
Audrey met his gaze. "Maybe I already have."
Just a few feet away, Hana and Damian exchanged a glance. Hana's expression softened, and she nudged Damian gently with her elbow.
"She deserves better," Hana said quietly.
Damian nodded. "She does. And I think he knows it."
Then Hana turned toward Audrey, her voice unexpectedly tender. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Aud. No one should ever... not like that."
Audrey's eyes shimmered slightly, but she nodded. "Thanks, Hana. I wish we all had each other before everything happened. Before the coma."
She looked around the rooftop at all of them, her voice steady but warm. "But at least we do now. And that counts for something."
Kenzo looked at her again. Not as a teammate. Not as a tactician. But simply as Audrey.
And in that fragile pause between storms, they were something else too.
They were almost... ordinary.
Too tired to say goodnight or separate into their rooms, they all ended up asleep in the common space—spread across couches and cushions and blankets dragged off the backs of chairs. The soft hum of the city outside faded behind the stillness inside.
Kenzo leaned back in a chair with a book on his chest, long forgotten. Hana curled into a corner, hoodie pulled over her head. Damian lay on his back with one arm flung across his eyes. Audrey, wrapped in a blanket, had fallen asleep sitting up, her head tilted toward Kenzo's shoulder.
For a few hours, none of them were warriors, or ghosts in between worlds, or broken souls chasing justice.
They were just people.
And they looked peaceful.
For now, it was enough.