Angelo lay in his hospital bed, evidently surprised to see his old master merely hours after everything that transpired. And even more surprising, dressed in hospital attire himself.

Sleeser attempted a reassuring smile, but worry made it wobble at the edges. "Quite a night you had, from what I hear." He tried for his usual playful tone, but concern bled through like water through paper. "Taking on an Evolved Auron and living to tell about it? That's something else, kiddo." The forced lightness in his voice couldn't hide the fear etched into the lines around his eyes.

Angelo's gaze dropped to his hands, now clenched into white-knuckled fists atop the blanket. "I..." His voice caught in his throat like something sharp and painful. "I lost him, Sleeser. My trainee. I got him killed." The words fell between them like stones, each one heavy with guilt and grief.

The color drained from Sleeser's face, his own injuries momentarily forgotten in the face of this revelation. "Your what?"

The story poured out of Angelo like a breaking dam - every detail crystal clear despite his exhaustion. He spoke of Bill's earnest smile and unwavering faith, painting a picture of a young man whose enthusiasm for life had been infectious. His voice grew hollow as he described following seemingly harmless rumors through Novaria's streets, only to walk straight into the Grim Reaper's trap. When he reached the deadly dance of combat and Bill's final, devastating sacrifice, his words became clipped and clinical - as if emotional distance was the only way he could bear to relate it. Even describing his evolution, triggered by overwhelming loss and rage, came out like a medical report rather than the life-changing moment it had been.

Sleeser sat motionless in the hard hospital chair as Angelo's story unfolded, his eyes closed against the harsh morning light. Pain etched deep lines in his face that had nothing to do with his physical wounds. Sunlight caught the traces of gray threading through his usually vibrant hair, making him look older and more vulnerable than Angelo had ever seen. When he finally spoke, his voice came out barely above a whisper. "An emotional evolution," he murmured, the words hanging in the antiseptic air like mist. "Those are rare... usually it takes being at death's door to trigger such a change. That's how it happened to me."

Angelo's head snapped up so fast the room spun, his vision swimming with black spots. His eyes went wide as the implications hit him like a physical blow. "You're... you're an Evolved Auron?" The words started as a shocked whisper but rose quickly, disbelief giving way to hot anger that brought color flooding back to his pale cheeks. "Then why weren't you there?! If you'd been investigating the Grim Reaper, Bill would still be—" His voice cracked and shattered like thin ice, the possibilities too painful to voice. The mere thought of how things might have been different felt like reopening a fresh wound.

"Angelo..." Sleeser shifted in his chair, the movement cautious and controlled. For the first time, Angelo truly saw the extent of his mentor's injuries - the way he held his torso rigid to protect cracked ribs, the layers of bandages visible beneath his borrowed hospital clothes, the tiny grimaces of pain that flickered across his face with each breath. "I wasn't around. These injuries..." He gestured at his battered body with a wince. "They tell their own story."

Shame crashed over Angelo like a wave, weighing him down until his hands trembled against the thin hospital blanket. "What do I do, Sleeser?" The question came out as barely more than a breath, raw desperation making his voice shake. "How do I keep going after this?"

Sleeser's stern expression softened, new worry lines etching themselves around his eyes as he chose his next words with visible care. "That's not an easy question to answer, kiddo." He leaned forward despite the pain it clearly caused him. "I can't truly know your pain, but..." His voice caught, thick with emotion. "The thought of losing you? It helps me understand. At least a little."

Angelo looked up sharply, caught off guard by the naked feeling in his usually composed mentor's voice.

"But you have something many others don't," Sleeser continued, his tone growing firmer, more purposeful. "You heard his last words, his final wishes. That's a gift, Angelo, though it might not feel like one right now." He paused, weighing each word like precious stones. "And there's something else - something you need to do, even though it'll be one of the hardest things you've ever faced. You need to visit his mother."

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Angelo's breath caught in his throat like a physical thing, his chest tightening around the mere thought.

"I know Chief Ramirez has already been there," Sleeser pressed on gently but firmly, "but she needs to hear from you too. Needs to hear her son's last words from the person who was there. If you don't..." His voice grew softer, understanding tempering the steel. "It'll eat at you, bit by bit, until there's nothing left but regret."

"He speaks wisdom," Blue's measured tones resonated through their shared consciousness like ripples in still water. "Mrs. Dealer deserves to hear how her son died a hero."

Angelo stared at the blank hospital wall, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions that played across his face like shadows. Sleeser watched the internal battle rage before slowly, painfully pushing himself to his feet. "I'll be in room 404 if you need me. After you've spoken with her..." He left the invitation hanging in the air as he made his way to the door, each step careful and measured like a man walking on broken glass.

"He's right," Angelo whispered to the empty room, the words barely stirring the still air. Moving sent spears of pain through his torso, but he forced himself through the motions - removing the IV with practiced care, changing into his street clothes despite protesting muscles. His orange aura flickered to life like a guttering candle, a tendril of smoky energy reaching out to ease the window open. Moments later he found himself on the streets of Novaria, each step a careful negotiation with his injured body.

"This is going to take forever," he thought, frustration mounting as pain forced him to maintain a civilian's slow pace.

"Let us help," Red's voice carried an unusual gentleness that made Angelo pause. "Activate your aura. Give us a chance to recharge, and we'll carry you there."

Angelo's orange aura sprang to life around him like a protective cocoon, though the effort made his wounds throb in protest. They paused in a small park where morning dew still jeweled the grass. Red emerged in a swirl of crimson smoke that coalesced like gathering storm clouds.

"Finally!" Red stretched dramatically, his form seeming to drink in the freedom of materialization. "Being cooped up like that, felt like being trapped in a box for centuries!" His face split into that characteristic wild grin as he turned to Angelo. "But now? Now I get to try something new!"

Red's crimson aura erupted around him like a sunrise, but there was something different about it - something more. The energy writhed and grew until it resembled living flames, raw power radiating from him in waves that made the air itself vibrate.

Angelo's eyes widened as understanding struck. "You can evolve too?"

"It's logical," Blue's analytical voice cut through their shared consciousness like a knife through fog. "Our forms are perfect replicas of yours, sharing even injuries. Evolution should be no different."

"Time for a test drive!" Red's grin turned wicked as a tendril of forged energy - solid and real as any physical thing - wrapped around Angelo's waist like a safety harness. "Buckle up!"

"Wait, this is a terrible ideAAAAH!" Angelo's protest transformed into a startled yelp as Red launched them both skyward, his newly evolved power letting them soar over buildings like birds taking wing.

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The Dealer house stood before them like a mountain Angelo had to climb. Every detail from their last visit stabbed at his heart - the neat flower beds Bill's mother tended with such care, the brass nameplate that had sparked playful jokes just days ago, the green door where they'd last seen her standing as Bill bounded off to what would be his final patrol. The morning light cast the modest home in gentle colors that felt like a mockery of his grief.

Angelo's raised fist trembled in the cool air, knuckles frozen inches from the door. Behind him, Red bounded away toward a nearby park, his newly evolved power crackling around him like bottled lightning as he sought distraction. The departure left Angelo truly alone with his task, each breath feeling like lifting weights as he finally forced himself to knock. He found himself silently bargaining with the universe, pleading that no one would answer.

The door's hinges creaked softly, the sound echoing through his bones like a funeral bell. Mrs. Dealer stood in the doorway, her appearance a testament to a mother's grief - eyes red and swollen from endless tears, dark shadows beneath them speaking of a night spent in sleepless anguish. The sight hit Angelo harder than any physical blow. She studied him for a long moment, sorrow etched into every line of her face, before stepping aside without a word. The invitation in her gesture was clear as daylight...