Cassidy And Sterling See Each Other On The Hotel Balconies During That Phone Call (Non-Canon)

As Cassidy Evans stood on the balcony of the hotel and answered the call from their father, a heavy sigh escaped them. This entire situation was so complicated. They had to pretend to be back in Detroit instead of in the same building--practically the same room as the man. What if he asked them to do something back there? What if he was like, ‘oh hey could you run down to the courthouse and tell them blah blah blah?’ Could they just say they were on their own vacation as requested and weren’t actually in Detroit at the moment? Would it be that simple, or would that just complicate things even more?

Eh, it wasn’t like they had a choice with that. If Dadsmith did ask them to do something that required they be in the city, they’d have to make something up. What was he going to do, ask their parents to confirm the excuse?

The moment their father’s--well Silversmith’s--helmet appeared onscreen, Cassidy immediately started talking, injecting as much forced casualness into their voice as possible. They had to make it seem like this was no big deal, while getting off the phone quickly. “If this is about making sure I’m not out fighting more supervillains, I’m pretty sure you could just check the news.” Okay, there. They managed to get through that whole sentence without their voice squeaking too much.

Their dad chuckled easily at that, head shaking as he replied. “I promise, it isn’t about babysitting you. Actually, Paintball, I called to ask…” Wait, hold on, something about his voice was… wrong? There was a problem there. It sounded different coming out of the phone, even before he trailed off. It was like the voice was echoing a bit, like it was coming both from the phone and from--

On the video call, Silversmith had very slowly turned to look to the side. Cassidy did the same instinctively, and found themself looking across the roughly twenty foot distance to the balcony of their parents’ room. There he was. Their father, as Silversmith, was standing out on that balcony, phone hovering in front of him on a little silver platform as he stared right at Cassidy-As-Paintball.

Everything stopped. It was like the world itself had frozen. Every precaution they had taken, every bit of care they’d exercised, every bit of luck they’d experienced, all if it had been erased in that one single instant. There was no warning, no idea that this would be the end of months of work, no voice in their head telling them to be prepared for something catastrophic. Just like that, in a single fateful moment and with one simple choice to walk out on that balcony for this call, it was over. Their life, possibly. Well, their life as they had known it, anyway. Everything had changed.

But time hadn’t actually frozen, of course. The seconds, few as they were, continued to tick by bit by bit while the two helmeted figures stared at one another, both father and child shocked for their own reasons. Cassidy had known the truth already, all of it really, so their own reaction was more of a shocked panic and exploding rush of fear. Sterling, on the other hand, had really known absolutely nothing about that, had had no warning that it was his own child who was running around the city as Paintball. He’d had no idea that Cassidy had even suspected anything about the Ministry. The man might as well have been hit by a truck while standing on that top floor balcony. It would have been less shocking to him at that moment than what actually happened.

Any number of things could have happened next. Either of them could have reacted in any of a thousand or more different ways. They could have explained each of their sides, could have spoken to one another, could have had a real conversation right there on the balconies. They could have taken this as a chance to understand one another without any more secrets or lies.

They could have done a great many things that would have kept both of them in that hotel and actually talking things through. Instead, the first thing Sterling did was reflexively take a step to that side of the balcony. His voice rose, strained with disbelief and deep uncertainty. “Cassidy?”

That was as far as he got, that single step and that single word. As they heard their father, as Silversmith, say their real name while staring at them as Paintball, Cassidy panicked. Well, they were already panicking, of course. But something broke in them then. Something in their mind snapped like a rubber band being stretched too far. Hearing their name right then was too much to deal with. Instantly, they activated green paint on their costume and flung themself off the balcony. In the background, they could hear their father say their name again, shouting it that time. But they had already jumped and were plummeting rapidly down the side of the building.

Of course, they didn’t fall for long. They were panicked and afraid, not suicidal. A hand extended, shooting a line of rainbow-colored paint toward one of the empty balconies several stories further down and on the opposite corner of the hotel, as far as the paint could reach. The second it hit, they appeared there, the blob of rainbow liquid becoming them as their old body melted away.

As they landed on the railing of that balcony, Cassidy could see a man just inside the actual room drop the glass of orange juice he was holding. He looked shocked, understandably enough. But they couldn’t worry about that. They couldn’t worry about anything besides where their dad was. And in that moment, as they looked over their shoulder, they could see his own form flying through the air. He had clearly started to jump after them, only to stop and adjust when they teleported. Unfortunately, as convenient as the rainbow paint was, there was no way for them to use it without making it perfectly clear where they were going. They had to physically shoot the paint that way, advertising to anyone who was watching the exact spot they would teleport to.

Proving that he hadn’t been made the leader of the Detroit Conservators simply because of his Ministry connections or deep pockets, Silversmith was already reacting to Paintball’s redirection. He had been reacting even as they started to teleport, at the moment he saw the rainbow paint going that way. His reaction speed was such that he had actually already shifted his direction from heading for the spot Cassidy had been, to going toward the railing they appeared on, before they had even physically teleported. And now he was almost on top of them, blurting, “Cass--”

They didn’t let their father get any further, and they sure as hell didn’t stick around to let the man grab them. In their panic at the unexpected, unplanned reveal, they weren’t actually considering anything except escaping. They weren’t thinking about the fact that this was their own dad, who would never really hurt them. After all, he had chosen to have their memories erased once before. Who was to say he wouldn’t do the same thing again just to make life easier for himself? And if they lost their memories now, if he caught them and had Kent erase their mind, erase everything they had become in these past few months--no, not they absolutely couldn’t let that happen. Never again. They would never let Kent near their mind like that, no matter what it took.

Right then, what it took was getting away from their father. Figuring out what to do after that would come once they managed that--if they managed that. They just had to get the hell away.

Just before their father would have reached them, Cassidy leapt from that balcony without saying a word. Usually in this sort of situation, well at least in a chase like this, they would have been making bad jokes, taunting the person chasing them. But now, in this case, there were no jokes forthcoming. There was no taunting. They were running away in what was a nearly blind panic.

And speaking of blind, just as they flung themself off the railing, the green-white blob they had left there went off. Sterling was hit by a shockingly bright flash that made him reel backward while his child used red paint to yank themself to another railing and then blue-paint launched themself further.

But it didn’t last. The bright flash should have blinded him for a few seconds, except he was prepared for that sort of thing. Not for Paintball themself to blind him of course, but it wasn’t as though that sort of attack was something completely unique to them. The man had long since taken to wearing special contact lenses, especially while in costume. The lenses were Touched-Tech, immediately darkening when they detected the bright flash, just long enough to save his vision.

He recovered far more quickly than he should have, and was already following after Cassidy. He wasn’t thinking about warning his wife in that moment, or about whether Izzy knew anything. He wasn’t even thinking about how it would look for people to see Silversmith chasing Paintball in a completely different city. The only thing--only thing on his mind was catching up with his child.

“Paintball!” Shocked as he was, reeling as he might have been, he still wasn’t about to shout the name Cassidy while clearly chasing after Paintball in public, even if they were in a different city. He had far too much experience to make that sort of blunder, no matter what was happening.

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Head shaking off the momentary setback as the contacts lightened so he could see again, the man sent himself flying after his child. Some inner part of him was shouting that he couldn’t just keep chasing Cassidy, that he was making the situation worse by going after them, but he didn’t listen to that. He couldn’t listen to it. All he could do was think about everything Cassidy had been going through, everything they were going through. He imagined the panic and fear in their mind right then and wanted to fix it. Sterling desperately wanted to help his child, unable to focus on the fact that he was the actual reason for that panic and fear. Everything was just happening so quickly.

As for Cassidy themself, the silently screaming alarm in their head made it impossible to think of anything except getting away. It was like every single Cassidy from every single day since that moment back at that motel when they Touched was screaming at them all at once. They were so dumb, they had fucked up, why didn’t they check the balcony, why didn’t they make sure it was safe, why had they gotten so damn complacent! If they could just go back and have one more chance, they’d do it right, they would put up the privacy screen, they wouldn’t screw up and expose their identity to their father like that. One more chance, one reset, just let this be a dream, a very bad dream. They could wake up from this nightmare, shudder a bit, and just move on.

But there was no waking up. There was no fixing this or going back. There would be no do-over. They had screwed up. After all the precautions, all the worrying, after everything they had done over these past months, it was all over. Their father knew who they were, and soon so would their mother, brother, and the rest of the Ministry. Their entire life as they had known it was over.

The sound of their father’s voice blurting the name Paintball, even if he wasn’t saying their real name, sent a heavy shudder through them. They were already launching themself off that next railing with the puddle of blue they’d hit it with, but with that sound and the realization that the flash had failed to blind him, they extended one hand to send a shot of green-red toward the roof of the parking garage in the distance to make themself fly that way even faster. They rocketed toward the car-filled lot, head shaking in a useless attempt to shut out the sound of their father’s voice. They just had to escape! The screaming past Cassidy voices were very united in that.

Just before landing on top of that parking garage, practically feeling their father’s approach right behind them and half-expecting to be grabbed any second, Cassidy sent several quick shots of red paint toward a vending machine that was sitting next to the elevator meant to allow people to easily get to any of the garage floors. The other bit of red was attached to their own costume. With a loud screeching noise and the sound of dozens of soda cans being flung around inside, the vending machine was yanked off its spot and went flying toward them. Which was when they cancelled that paint and activated a set of green bird wings on their back, making themself drop toward the parking garage faster even as the vending machine flew right over their head, its momentum carrying it toward Silversmith. They weren’t afraid of actually hurting him with that. The man had been hit worse than that without any problem. They just needed to buy a second.

Sure enough, Sterling didn’t even let the vending machine reach him. A pair of heavy silver blades appeared in the air, slicing the thing in two before transforming into claws that grabbed both halves and pulled them out of the way. Unfortunately for the man, that meant that all those cans of soda were breached in the process and filled the air in front of him with a wild spray of brown carbonated liquid. His vision was cut off for just a moment as he passed through that spray.

Knowing they only had an instant, if that much, Cassidy acted immediately as soon as they landed on that parking garage next to one of the large pickup trucks. Shifting into their liquid form and turning pink, they melted down into a puddle and slid themself under the vehicle. But they didn’t stop there, continuing to puddle-slide around to the far side of the rear tire and then up onto the tire itself. They oozed up the tire until they were on top of it, hidden by the truck’s wheel well.

Sterling, by that point, had passed through the cloud of soda. He let the silver claws drop the vending machine pieces out of the way, while landing smoothly on the cement between a couple vehicles. His eyes scanned every which way, searching for any sign of his child, or anyone else. Nothing, there was no one else here. It was too early for many people to be up, especially here in a city so focused on nighttime events. Even the opening events for the LEAT games wouldn’t start for several hours yet. Anyone using this parking garage was still asleep over in the hotel.

With all the emotions running through him right then, Sterling had to stop. He stood there, gaze lowering to stare at his own silver-armored feet. In truth, the man was only a few feet from where his child was curled up in their liquid form on top of the tire of the truck. Close enough for him to reach out and touch the vehicle. But he didn’t know that. For all Sterling knew, he could be alone. His child could have slipped off the building and left already. Paintball was obviously good at getting out of tight places. He’d--they’d had a lot of practice at that over these past months. Hell, their career--their life as a Touched had started at that motel with them getting away from Simon.

That was a thought that made the man close his eyes tightly. His helmet disappeared, as did the rest of his armor. He dismissed the costume and stood on that roof not as Silversmith, but as himself, as Sterling. Whatever came next, whatever happened, he wanted to be his true self.

Cassidy, still in puddle form on that tire, heard their father land nearby. Was he looking right at them? Did he already know exactly where they were? He was their dad, for so long he had always seemed to know everything. Then they had spent months with him having no idea that they were Paintball. But now he did know that. Now he knew the truth. So was he standing there, somehow using that magic dad sense to know exactly where they were hiding? Was he about to open his mouth and tell them to come on off the tire already? It wouldn’t surprise them.

Wait, right there. The truck was sitting near a drainage pipe thing that would lead all the way to the ground. Their dad was standing on the opposite side of the vehicle, he wouldn’t see the pipe. They could slide over to it, squeeze into the thing, and ride it as far as they needed to. They could get out of this place, find another place to hide with a bit more privacy, and send Izzy a warning. What they would do after that was anyone’s guess. They hadn’t thought that far. But if they were quick and quiet, they could get out of here. They could escape and then… and then disappear.

The parking garage was almost silent. Save for a slight hissing sound from a few broken soda cans, there was nothing at all to hear. Sterling took a soft, short breath, listening to his own inhale before speaking. He didn't quite shout, though he did try to make sure he could be heard across this roof. If Cassidy was here, if they hadn't already left, he wanted them to hear what he had to say. Whether they would listen, or that they would believe him, whether they were even still with an earshot, he had no idea. All he could do right then was talk and hope.

“I'm sorry.” Those were the first words out of his mouth, the most important thing he had to say right then. “I'm sorry for how you found out everything. I'm sorry about how you were brought into this. I'm sorry you were afraid, and I am ashamed that we are the reason for it. I'm sorry you've spent all this time being terrified about this very moment.”

He had to swallow the hard lump in his throat then, the admission that he had been in any way responsible for terrifying his own child and leaving them too afraid to be themself in their own home making the man want to drive his fist into his chest. He would rather take his heart and physically crush it than willingly make his own child feel that way.

“I thought about how to tell you the truth so many times. From the moment I held you in my arms the first time, when you were so small, I planned all these different ways that I could tell you everything. There were so many chances, so many opportunities. But we always took the easy way out. We didn't tell you when we should have. I told myself that we wanted you to have a normal childhood, or at least as normal as you could. And that is part of the truth. But another part is that I didn't want you to have to make a choice. I didn't want to take the chance that you'd look at me differently. I didn't want to take the chance that you would see me as being someone so much worse than your dad.”

Slowly moving out to the main part of the lot, he continued a bit shakily. “You are my child. You will always be my child. Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, I want you to know that. We would never, ever choose to hurt you. We've made mistakes. We've made bad choices. But we love you. I love you. I'm sorry about every bad choice we've made, but we won't make one now. We won't force you to do anything. When you're ready, please talk to me, talk to us. It can be on your terms, over the phone, any way you want to do it. We'll figure out what to do. And none of us will ever force you to do anything you don't want to.”

He went quiet then, standing there in silence for a few long seconds. His entire body was trembling with emotion. He didn't even know if his words had been heard at all. All he could do was say them and hope. There was more he wanted to say, but he would have been repeating himself. So, Sterling swallowed and turned to walk away.

Or he started to. But as he pivoted, the man found something in his way. Or someone.

“Dad.” That was all Cassidy said. Their voice cracked even in the process of saying that single word. They weren’t wearing their helmet anymore. Their face was exposed, so he could see the torn, conflicting emotions there. They didn’t know if they should be doing this, but it was the choice they were making. Wrong or right, it was theirs.

Sterling froze. Standing there motionless, he stared at his child in silence before slowly going down to one knee. Without moving forward, he opened his arms, waiting, not trusting his voice.

Cassidy took a step that way, then stopped. Their eyes shifted to look away, hands clenching and unclenching. Then they stepped forward again. They were right in front of their father.

“Dad,” they repeated, almost silently. “I…” Trailing off as something inside them twisted and snapped, Cassidy took that last step, moving right up against their father’s chest. They felt his arms close around them, felt him hold them, and slumped against the man. Their own arms went around him, and both stood there together. Father and child each spoke together, their voices meeting one another.

“I’m here.”