The words emerge soft, almost inaudible, but they seem to detonate in the stillness of the room with the force of a thunderclap. I feel my breath catch in my chest, head whipping around almost of its own accord to find Gale regarding us all with an oddly pensive expression.

I look anywhere but her, and end up meeting gazes with Spindle, who has remained mostly quiet this whole meeting. He is the newest member of the team, so I don't really blame him, but it feels weird to stare at him, so I stop.

"Sorry in advance," She says. She takes a steadying breath, dark eyes flicking towards me for the barest instant before flickering away once more. "I... I've been giving my role on the team a lot of thought lately," she begins, the words seeming to emerge with a palpable weight of reluctance. "Ever since the incident out near the Schuylkill, really. And... well, the truth is, I'm just not sure this is something I can keep doing anymore. Not with the way things have been escalating lately."

A thick, leaden silence falls over the room, the weight of Gale's confession seeming to drain the very air from the space around us. I feel my heart plummet into my stomach, a sudden, nauseating vertigo sweeping through me as her words seem to detonate against the inside of my skull.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight off the urge to be sick, dimly aware of the flurry of muted exclamations and hushed protests erupting in the wake of Gale's bombshell revelation. Beside me, I can sense Blink tensing, body rigid with shock, while Gossamer seems poised on the verge of tears, lips trembling mutely.

Puppeteer is the first to find her voice, the regal tones of her measured baritone cutting through the swelling tumult like a razor's edge. "Gale... please, help us to understand," she murmurs, dark eyes shimmering with naked concern. "Does this mean you intend to leave the Young Defenders altogether? Or merely take a step back from active duty for a time?"

Gale crunches her face up, visibly struggling to maintain her composure as every eye in the room turns towards her. There's a palpable aura of fragility surrounding her, as if the slightest errant breath might shatter her into a thousand irreparable pieces.

"I... I'm not sure, to be honest," she admits at last, words emerging in a breathless rush. "I just... after everything that happened, all the destruction and... and violence , I can't seem to get it out of my head, you know?" Her gaze flicks towards me again, dark eyes haunted by a bone-deep weariness I've only ever glimpsed in fleeting flashes before. "I talked to Sam about it, too. I just..."

Everyone glances at me, and I feel like I need to explode and also die. I look at the floor.

Blink lets out a soft, strangled sound at that, while Playback shifts uncomfortably in his seat, lips pressed into an uncharacteristically grim line. I can feel the weight of their collective gazes settling on me, a thousand unspoken questions and silent pleas for intervention swirling through the air.

But the words won't come. My tongue feels like lead, the air thick and stagnant in my lungs. All I can do is stare at the floor.

"Gale... I know things have been... intense , to say the least, these past few months," he begins, voice pitched low and soothing as one might use to gentle a spooked animal. "After everything we saw out there, everything we had to deal with... well, I'd be lying if I said it didn't shake me up too, you know?"

He pauses, grimacing faintly as his eyes flick towards the bandages still swathing his torso. "To be honest, I'm not even sure I'd be here right now if it weren't for all of you - my team, my family - keeping me grounded and reminding me why we signed up for this gig in the first place." Reaching out, he rests one massive hand atop Gale's in a gesture of quiet reassurance, the gesture almost grandfatherlike.

"So I get it, kid. I really do. And whatever you decide to do from here, just know that none of us are gonna judge you for it, alright? We're here for you, one hundred percent of the way. No matter what." His gaze sweeps across the rest of us, dark eyes shining with a quiet, unshakable conviction. "Ain't that right, y'all?"

A ragged chorus of murmured assent rises from the assembled Young Defenders, punctuated by a few emphatic nods and tight smiles. Gale manages a tremulous half-grin of her own, the expression almost painfully fragile as she ducks her head in a mute show of gratitude.

"I... thank you, Rampart," she whispers, voice barely audible over the sudden swell of hushed chatter. "And all of you, really. Just... just know that I'm not making this decision lightly, okay? I love all of you, and being a part of this team has been one of the greatest experiences of my life so far. But... well, there's a difference between being brave and being reckless , you know? And... I'm scared. I don't want..."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I know what's coming next, but the end of the sentence doesn't show up.

"You don't want to die," Puppeteer finishes the thought for her, as if plucking it from her head.

Gale's words seem to hang in the air like a leaden weight, the unspoken truth behind her halting confession sending a palpable chill rippling through the room. For a long, breathless moment, nobody seems willing or able to give voice to the unspoken implications swirling in that fragile silence.

Then, with a quiet exhalation, Puppeteer straightens almost imperceptibly in her seat, dark eyes glittering with a strange, haunted light. "You're right, Gale," she murmurs, the familiar cadences of her rich alto seeming to resonate with a profound, bone-deep weariness. "None of us signed up for this path expecting it to be a leisurely stroll through the park. We all knew the risks, the stakes, the sheer gravity of the responsibility we were shouldering from the moment we first donned these somewhat tacky costumes."

"Hey!" Gossamer shouts, but it's clearly in jest. I think.

Her gaze sweeps across the assembled ranks, drinking in each of us in turn with a solemn, inscrutable intensity. "But that doesn't make the realities of what we face out there any less harrowing, any less... visceral when the chips are down and we're staring oblivion in the face." She pauses, lips tightening almost imperceptibly, as if steeling herself against some unspoken onslaught.

"So if any of you feel the need to step away, to take a break and recenter yourselves... well, I can promise you that nobody here will think any less of you for it." Her lips quirk in a faint, rueful smile, the expression somehow laden with a profound, haunting melancholy. "After all, what good are we to the people we've sworn to protect if we lose ourselves in the process, hmm?"

A ragged murmur of agreement ripples through the gathered Young Defenders, punctuated by a few emphatic nods and tight smiles. Spindle, silent until now, straightens almost imperceptibly in his seat, features etched in a pensive frown.

"I don't think anyone would blame you if you wanted to live like a normal person. I don't think normal people are meant to be superheroes," he says, his head pitching forward a bit. "Like, I think there's something wrong with your brain when you get superpowers. I don't think normal people want to do superheroics. Is that a thing?"

"Not to my knowledge," Crossroads rumbles. "But I understand what you mean."

Gale manages a weary smile at that, dark eyes glistening with a sheen of unshed tears. "Thank you, both of you," she whispers, the words thick with a profound, almost palpable gratitude. "Just... thank you all , really. I can't even begin to tell you how much this team, how much you've all come to mean to me over the months."

A fresh swell of muted conversation rises at that, the undercurrent of tension in the room seeming to ease ever so slightly. Blink leans over to drape one slim arm across Gale's shoulders in a gentle side-hug, while Gossamer bobs her head in a vigorous, almost comically emphatic nod of agreement.

For my part, all I can do is watch in silence, a roiling tempest of emotions churning just beneath the surface. Part of me aches to reach out, to offer some small measure of reassurance or comfort in the face of Gale's naked vulnerability. But another, deeper part recoils at the very thought, a vast and yawning chasm of loss and bitter recrimination opening up to swallow me whole.

So I remain still and silent, an island of deathly calm amidst the swirling currents of camaraderie and shared catharsis. My gaze flicks towards Crossroads, searching for some hint or tell as to his inner thoughts on the matter.

But as ever, his expression remains an inscrutable mask, giving nothing away. He simply watches the proceedings unfold with that same pensive, brooding intensity, dark eyes glittering with unspoken calculation.

Another murmur of assent, this one louder and more emphatic. Multiplex stirs in his seat, shoulders squaring as he leans forward with clear intent to speak his mind. But before the words can emerge, Puppeteer barrels onward, raising one hand in a gentle, placating gesture.

"Well, since we're all being so open and honest here..." She pauses, weighing her next words with immense care. "I suppose I should take this opportunity to disclose something as well, something that may very well impact my own candidacy for ascension to the senior Defender ranks."

The words detonate in the stillness like one of those little crackle thingies you throw at the ground, shattering the brief interlude of shared vulnerability and drawing every eye towards her. Small, but explosive. Crossroads straightens almost imperceptibly, while beside me, I can feel Spindle tensing with a palpable aura of apprehension.

For my part, a sickly sense of dread begins to coil in the pit of my stomach, the implications of Puppeteer's pronouncement blossoming into horrific clarity. I shoot Crossroads a sidelong glance, lips pressed into a grim line as his earlier words seem to echo through my mind with fresh, haunting resonance.

Does this mean you intend to leave the Young Defenders altogether? Or merely take a step back from active duty for a time?

Beside me, Blink stiffens almost imperceptibly, dark eyes flicking towards Crossroads in a silent exchange of meaningful glances. He regards us both with an inscrutable look. Playback, for once, does not seem inclined to open his mouth, keeping his lips very intently pursed with silence.

"As some of you may already be aware," she begins, voice ringing clear and unwavering through the stillness, "I have been... struggling with certain personal issues for quite some time now. Issues of an... emotional and psychological nature that, ultimately, may preclude me from ever being considered for full Defender status as a Registered Superhuman Entity."