Despite everything, the rest of the week passed without incident. The team fell into a routine; mornings were spent in the training room, with the five heroes running simulations together. Lydia monitored everything from the observation deck, tracking each movement on an array of screens while giving out field updates and other communications. Ronnie thought she was the best tactician on the team, and her orders kept them working like a finely tuned instrument. When the computer system inserted random challenges into the routines, Lydia's calm voice on comms kept everyone level-headed and ready to face any obstacle. Over lunch, she had statistical breakdowns of everyone's performance with highlighted areas for improvement. Thankfully, the list seemed to get shorter with each passing day.

After lunch, it was time for more research. Phillip continued to meet with them, working with Maya to sift through historical texts and even forgotten folklore, anything from the period that might mention the Shadowghast. Syndicate operatives had sent more data from the Polish dig site, and photographs of the tomb were tacked to the bulletin board. Soil and rock samples had also been analyzed, all to learn more about an enemy who hadn't been seen in nearly seven hundred years.

"Can you even imagine being that old?" Maya muttered, flipping through screens on a tablet before handing it over to Phillip.

"What I can't imagine is being locked in a room for that long," he responded. "No wonder he's so pissed."

Ronnie watched the pair from the other side of the room with a smile. It was good to see them getting along, and he noticed how Phillip seemed to be coming up with reasons to linger around after work had finished for the day. How the two of them leaned close together while looking through the neverending pile of old books.

"Okay, that's it," Ronnie nudged Taran to get his attention. He was going over the same dataset for the twelfth time that afternoon. "We need to get out of this room for a bit. There's nothing more to be done today, and you're going to drive yourself crazy."

"Ugh, you're right. Also… I feel like our presence isn't exactly welcome," Taran nudged his head towards Phillip and Maya.

"So you noticed."

"Yep. What did you have in mind?"

"I'd like to visit my dad if that's okay," Ronnie chewed anxiously on his lip. He hadn't been home since they started prepping for the mission. It had been over two weeks, officially the longest time he'd been away from his father.

"That sounds nice. Wait — are we telling him?!"

Ronnie laughed. "I'd really like to if that's alright with you."

"Ack, should I bring something?! I've never met a boyfriend's dad before!"

The town car pulled up to Ronnie's house a short while later. He smiled in the comfort of the familiar site. Things from the outside looked as expected. Knowing he would be away for a time, Ronnie paid the neighbor kid to make sure the yard stayed tidy. He hadn't wanted his father to have to worry about things while he was gone.

"It feels really nice to be home," he told Taran as they approached the front door. He rested his hand on the doorknob momentarily and took a breath. Keeping the secret would be easier with Taran around.

"Are you ready to do this?"

"Of course, are you?"

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Ronnie cracked open the door and called out into the house. "Dad? We're here!" There was a shuffle of activity in the living room. He peeked in to find Greg propped up in his favorite chair. His father set down the book he was reading and beamed. He looked pale and perhaps a little smaller than when Ronnie left.

"Ronnie! You're back, and just as I was starting to get used to this empty house."

"Happy to be here, Dad. Are you feeling all right?"

Greg waved the concern away. "Nothing you need to worry about. Hip's acting up again; I've been sleeping in the chair." He glanced around Ronnie to find Taran in the doorway. "Mr. Webber! I almost didn't recognize you without the suit!"

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Nolan," Taran replied, holding up a pair of plastic bags. "We brought take out!"

Much to Ronnie and Taran's objections, Greg lifted himself out of the recliner and made his way to the kitchen to set the table. Ronnie carefully watched his father as he puttered about. Though he seemed to be getting around well enough, Greg had a bad habit of ignoring the pain until he was practically immobile.

Ronnie insisted that everyone sit down while he dished out the takeout containers. He watched across the counter from the corner of his eye. Taran leaned in toward the center of the table, already enthralled with a story being told. Greg was relaxed in his chair, some color already returning to his cheeks. This — everyone home for family dinner — was something Ronnie had wanted for so long. His eyes stung a bit, thinking about how happy it made him. If anyone asked about it, he'd blame the spicy takeout.

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He took a steadying breath and brought the food to the table. The conversation switched to small talk, and Ronnie dove into the stories he had rehearsed with Taran on the drive over.

"It's this hardcore programming bootcamp," he explained, with Taran nodding along. "Formal classes during the day, and then group study time in the evenings. I'm learning all about the Syndicate computer systems, which is cool. They say once I pass the certification, I could get a job there in Support."

"That's great, Ronnie! I knew you'd do well." It was a relief that Greg seemed to be buying it. If nothing else, he was satisfied enough to not ask any probing questions. They continued with their meal until Greg spoke up again. "You hitting the gym there as well, kiddo? You're shirt's all tight in the arms there."

Ronnie shifted in his chair and forced a shrug. "Um, yeah, I guess? The facilities are part of the perks, after all. Some of us have been working out after classes to relax. It's no big deal."

Greg looked over his fork with a sly grin. "You got somebody over there you're tryin' to impress? Don't tell me — you bumped into that Night Talon guy you were always mooning over."

Ronnie almost choked. "Dad!"

"Night Talon?!" Taran wasn't even trying to conceal his glee at this embarrassing revelation. "Really?!"

Ronnie fought the urge to kick him from under the table. He cleared his throat. "Dad, if you're done being mortifying, there is something I wanted to talk to you about. Taran and I have been seeing each other for a while now."

Greg leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Oh? Is that so?" He shifted his gaze over to Taran, eyes narrowed. He looked him up and down and took another bite of dinner. Chewing slowly, his eyes bounced back and forth between the two boys. Ronnie sat in silence and found himself nervously glancing around the room.

He couldn't take the pressure any longer. "Oh my God, Dad, say something!"

Greg's face turned red as he burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm just giving you shit!" He clapped a hand on Taran's arm, forcing him to exhale loudly. "You two look good together!"

"Jesus, you're awful."

Greg only cackled and took a drink of his soda. With no other big news to share, the three finished their meal and spent more time deep in conversation. The jokes and stories came easy, and for the first time in weeks, Ronnie truly felt at ease. All worries surrounding the Shadowghast and the impending dangers melted away, at least for now. Ronnie hoped that Taran felt the same way.

As the sun was beginning to set, Taran stood from the table. "Excuse me, I'm getting a call. Is there a place I can take this?"

"My room's down the hall to the right."

"Thanks, babe."

Greg leaned in as Taran's footsteps retreated down the hallway. "So, he treating you good?"

"Yes, Dad," Ronnie beamed. "I'm really happy."

"And this job, they're not on you too hard, are they?"

"It's a ton of work, but turns out I'm pretty good at it."

"Good, Good." Greg's gaze turned back to the hallway for just a moment. "So, are they giving you a cape or what?"

Ronnie's stomach about fell through the floor as he tried to cover a shaky breath. "What?! Dad, I'm an IT intern."

"Come on, Ronnie. I've been around the block before. You come home all bulked out, and the only reason you'd be spending every night at the Syndicate is if you're out running around in tights."

"Oh, and I've got superpowers now, is that right?"

Greg shrugged. "Happens every day in this city. Considering the labs your mother worked in the entire time she was pregnant, you should be lucky you don't have two heads."

"Tragic origin stories aside," Ronnie tried to lean into teenage attitude but could barely keep his hands from trembling. "If that was truly what I was doing, you know I wouldn't be able to talk about it."

"You're right. I'm sorry. What you're doing there, whatever it is, I'm proud of you. Your mom would be proud too."

"Thanks, Dad."

Inside, Ronnie was screaming. He wanted nothing more than to tell him that he was right and come clean about everything. But there were rules. If Taran's superhero parents weren't immune to the dangers, there was no way he would allow his father to take any risks. Greg changed the subject to something benign, and Ronnie gave a few cursory answers. He couldn't keep focused and needed a reason to escape.

"I'm gonna go check on Taran, be right back." Ronnie stood up from the table and did his best to not race down the hallway. He peeked into his room to find Taran examining one of the many posters on the wall. The moment suddenly dawned on Ronnie — his boyfriend was standing in the middle of his childhood bedroom. And it had way more toys and action figures than an eighteen-year-old would typically have.

He rapped on the doorframe, and Taran started.

"Oh, hey," he said softly. "Sorry, I got distracted in here. You are such a nerd!" Taran pointed to the poster of Zephyr and smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen this one before."

"Do know how many fellow dorks I had to beat in an online auction for that? She's always been my favorite."

"Oh, is that why you're interested? So you can get close to your childhood hero?"

"Well, I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a perk."

Taran snorted. "Right, because it's apparently Night Talon you're after! And don't think I missed his action figure standing over there." He gestured to the shelf of Syndicate heroes standing in formation.

"Listen, you can't deny he's got style. That v-neck uniform he wore when he stopped being a sidekick? It was very formative!" Ronnie took a step closer to wrap his arms around Taran. "If it makes you feel better," he pointed to the shelf. "I have a first edition Weather Boy over there too. Right next to Zephyr, where he belongs."

There was a pause. "I really miss her," Taran turned to rest his chin on Ronnie's shoulder and sighed.

"We'll bring her home, just a few more days." Ronnie pulled Taran closer, desperately wishing there was something he could do to take the worry away.

"We should be getting back. That was Lydia who called. Maya's had another episode."

Ronnie pulled away. "Oh my god. Is everything okay?"

Taran nodded. "She's awake now. But she set off a weird energy burst in the archive room and made quite a mess. Luckily, Lydia was with her when it happened, or we might have missed the message."

"What was it?"

"One more will fall before the Reaping."