He died.

It was just like his first plots, the theatrical ones where he'd announce it to the whole group before setting himself on fire or throwing himself into the river, but then we'd all end up ten minutes earlier without a care in the world. Well, most of us. The only difference this time is that he wasn't the one pulling the trigger, and still, what does it matter? He might as well have jumped in front of a car.

I watched the bullet tear through him. I'll even admit I sat next to him on the second night, when Dylan made it clear we weren't going after Angel and 'her girls'. The terminology he used may have been more akin to "I don't believe they're leaving permanently and thus don't want to invest resources in going after them, because obviously they will be back", but I guarantee that fooled no one, especially when the three most gullible, agreeable, sad, wide-eyed, prey-with-the-semblance-of-a-human members of our group (save for maybe Damien) just decided to take off for who knows where. I don't envy the man who has to convince Elle, the middle kids, and myself that everything is under control, but I can't envy Dylan for being Red's main bitch either. I told Red this when I sat next to his sleeping body and Dylan's, giddy with the awareness that my experiences would pass over to the morning.

Certainty got ripped away from me the second he woke back up. He blinked a few times and turned back over Dylan's hello so he could caress his boyfriend first, before he said anything. It was almost touching, if he weren't manipulating time to receive more affection from his poor, blind group of followers. Isn't that adorable? You're playing with our lives again. It could have all been over. You would have been out of the trap. They would have been out of the trap. I would have been out of the trap.

I want to strangle him again the second he's back, but instead I'm out here, retrieving the middle kids from whatever frantic hell they've found themselves in. I kick pebbles out of the way, watching them bounce across the empty landscape. The air is so thick with cold that I can barely smell anything else, but I don't need my literal sense of smell to scent a rat.

Mary is perched in a nearby tree, one leg hanging down. Gillian is near the base, Damien by her side, and the latter is sporting a nasty black eye. "It's not my fault that you bruise so easily, Damien. Can't you just fix it?"

"Veritas brawling?" I ask.

"We finally get 'im back into it and his  Veritas is actually useless," Mary informs me. With two broad wings, she hops off the tree and down to the ground. "What do you want from us? Are you here to join in?"

"Hm. How much do I want to waste my time kicking the living daylights out of you? Funny, not at all. We're leaving today. Probably."

Mary asks, "Does that mean we get to burn the house down?"

"We're going to burn the house down?" asks Damien.

Gillian's lower jaw seizes up. "Are you certain this is entirely necessary?"

"Nice to hear from you for once in a million years, slowpoke. You go dormant when Red wasn't around to give you orders?" I lean into Gillian's face, and she discreetly brushes my hair out of her face. Forcing a confident laugh, I shake my head. "You know that there's no good options for us, don't you? When Dylan does something as stupid as killing a man, well..."

"We've never... killed anyone before." Gillian says. Her expression is so dumbfounded, so sure of the singular, linear stream of time that she inhabits, that it's almost hilarious. Perhaps cruel would be the better word? It's like screaming obscenities at a deaf person. She has no means through which to even process the information I'm so obviously queueing her into.

"Who even cares about killing? We could at least knock some people out!" Mary interjects. "Remember? That's why we're training. We're going back now, so, maybe we'll need to start defending ourselves again. Kali, Kali! I'm training Damien! Look!"
Damien looks up at me with one blackened eye. "Yep," he says, halfheartedly. "We've been training."

"Nice job," I say. Oh shoot. Can Mary process sarcasm? I remind myself, trying to suppress an expression that is simultaneously manic hilarity and intense rage, that if Mary actually hurts Damien, Red will just fix the problem with a snap of his fingers. Hence, not my problem. Hence, I can say whatever I want. Hence, I am obligated, by sheer virtue of my position, to set Mary off like those flaming, erupting sticks they have in the summers. Boom. Crackle.

End me.

"Mary's training methods are not helpful to a fighter of Damien's caliber," Gillian protests.

"This sounds like something you should take up with Red now that he's awake," I mutter.

I feel my heart crunch like a can as all their faces light up. Even Gillian's dark-rimmed eyes rise a little, her thick eyebrows parting to reveal something soft, genuine, and usually hidden by her armored heart. Damien and Mary take off for the house, Gillian bringing up the rear.

"Wait! Where's Alex?" I yell.

Gillian calls back, "He's near the shed. Handle him. I need to go see-- I mean, it is imperative that I receive new protocol."

"You can admit that you want to see Red," I yell back, although he's already gone.

The wind blows around me. It's been picking up all morning, intermittently. It has this way of sinking into your skin, in the places you thought you'd covered with clothing but hadn't quite sealed off. I pull my jacket a little tighter about me, so that the fur is tight against my neck. I plod back past the wire, slipping between the form of a snake and a human (not that it matters... trust me, all the wire is broken down by now, Mary's been using it for her 'training') and emerging ner the barn. Alex isn't there. Shocker. No one's touched it since Angel left.

Our first real sin.

I wish I could claim credit for something so ruinous, even though just phrasing it that way makes me sound like a poor villain of some kind. No, I had no part in this. As I had always vainly hoped, this was just a matter of time. Not until one of us got hurt, no no.

We were all waiting for Red to crack.

The kitchen is full with middle kids. Alex must have snuck in, because he's happily chattering with Red now while holding up his phone. Gillian is tapping his shoulder. Damien has his hand, which he has masterfully stolen from Dylan, who is grinning like an idiot. Mary is blathering on about something unhelpful and likely irrelevant. I can barely make out the conversation primarily on the account of not caring.

I run my hand down a machine in the corner, the great broiling thing that I keep catching in hotels. I don't know how to work the machine, but I know the black bile that's supposed to pour out of it, vaguely, and I know that you're supposed to insert the beans. To expedite the process, I tug on one of the handles in the sink and gulp hot water down, then bite the beans. It tastes awful, but I can feel the energy creep through my body.

Red is still chattering away with the middle kids. "I'm so glad to see you all too. I apologize for how I've worried you, but I promise, nothing like this will ever, ever happen again."

"Why? Are you immune to bullets?" asks Mary.

Red closes his eyes. He drops Damien's hand and rises. "I am."

"Nice," Dylan says. "Could have told us earlier."

"You don't understand," Red says. "I'm a time traveller. I've hidden my power from you all to keep you safe for years, but now that I've been through all this... I can't stand to live like this anymore. No more secrecy. No more lies. We face the future together, as a team."

Dylan's face falls. "Er, Red? You sure the bullet didn't go through your brain?"
"I could prove it," Red says, feverishly. "I've seen you all die so many times. I've seen Gillian tear Mary into bloody shreds. I've seen Alex ruin the power grids of entire cities. I've seen Mary-- Mary, you, you, you..."

Mary grits her teeth into that ugly indignant expression she gets when anyone questions her authority. "I would never do anything-- bad!" she spits. "Nothing's ever gone wrong before. You're making things up."

Red twitches. "I'm not. I wish I was. I wish I didn't have to deal with any of this, but I do! Over and over again, I have to save your ingrate hides, and you know what?" He twitches again. I stare blankly at the black beans, grabbing a few more and placing them in my mouth. I don't even think he's noticed that I'm there. Man has peripheral vision like a skittish deer and he still can't see the single greatest threat to his authority standing in the corner, having some beans. He goes into the self-deprecating part of the reveal. "No no. You have to be grateful. You have to be grateful, Red. That's not how you'd come out to them. You can't come out like that, Red! I told you, I've told you a thousand times, you have to be gentle-- it's not their fault-- it's all--"

"Did Trace fix Red wrong?" Mary asks.

Dylan gently places a hand on Red's shoulder. Red is heaving now, not as in throwing up, but his face is bilious with mucus and the table is covered in tears. "Buddy?"

I feel my consciousness slip back. My cup refills itself with hot water. My beans remain, in the cosmic scheme of things, uneaten. Red moves to speak again, hesitating, staring at the table. He wipes a tear that's no longer there away from his face. "I'm sorry," Red says. "For worrying you all."

I gulp down the hot water again and grab myself some more beans. At least it's a good stopping point. If the universe can save anything from the clutches of this poor, deluded man, let me have my coffee. "Yep. We were pretty worried. I bet Angel was relieved, though. This doesn't seem like a ten-second plan to me. Then again, maybe she is stupid." I'm enjoying this more than I have any right to.

"Angel's smart enough to know leaving is not the answer," Red says. "She'll see reason as soon as we grab her and get her back. Are you all with me?"
A round of rousing affirmatives sounds from the group, especially from an enthralled Mary and a dutiful Gillian. First time those two haven't been at each other's throats in weeks, but then again, we always work better with a common cause. "I'm going upstairs to grab Elle," I tell them, placing my empty cup on the table. Beans stain my teeth, so I lick off their shrapnel as I exit and ascend the stairs.

"Hey babe," I say to the room.

"Come over here." Elle draws herself out of the blankets, rising from a dormant, doll-like state into a mechanical approximation of a human being. Her dark eyes fix mine, the lashes focusing her gaze. Her lips are black as my coffee. "You have work to do?"

"Nothing's more important than this," I say. I can feel myself willing to believe it. Her heartbeat is faint, but I can hear it in my bones. Her skin is softer than the blankets-- thousands of times softer, they're pilled anyways-- as I pick her up. At the same time, I can feel her lifting me up, as if I'm a ball on the end of a string, waiting to be pulled around and around. I feel dizzy as her hands grace my skin.

"You want this," Elle insists.

"Yeah," I say, half-buried in the twisted sheets. "Why wouldn't I? No need to be redundant. No words."
"The words are necessary," Elle replies.

I bring myself up to her face. "Say something sexier, then."

Elle almost rolls her dark eyes. She puts a finger to my mouth. "Stop talking. You're interrupting."

"Are you alright?" I ask.

She looks at me. "This is what we are supposed to be doing."

"What?"

"Forget you heard that."
"O-okay," I say.

Elle's eyes narrow. She blinks twice, once with her regular eyelids and another time with an invisible membrane that draws itself across her eyes and retracts. She moves backwards, examining me, and gets off the bed. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," I say. "Of course I love you."

Elle nods. "Thank you, Kali."
I can feel my heart explode inside of my chest. It's about as painful as it sounds, but right now I just want to light my body on fire. I feel myself needing her. I want her like the waves on the west coast want the ocean. I want to crash into her, hard.

She gets up. "We should leave."

"Uh, yeah, sure," I begin, following her down the steps. Elle passes Red with a sharp nod, as if he'd always been there, awake, and then sets out the door. I pause in the doorway, waiting for her. "That's my job, right, guys?"

"Well, only one of us has fire powers," Dylan says.

"We found ker-o-sene in the garage!" trills Mary.

"You're disgusting," Gillian says. "Stop talking."

"You want to do the honors?" Dylan's face is heavy.

I shrug. "Everyone out."
All seven of them leave. I follow them out, swinging myself around the railing that leads up to the house and situate myself at a safe distance. "You know what? Go on ahead. I'll catch up with you." I say.

Dylan nods. "Right. We break east. There's actually a few towns in the area, according to Alex, if we liberally extend our definition of 'area', which isn't hard, because you can't actually get any vaguer than 'area'. We're looking for somewhere residential, not some shanty with five people, which narrows our options." He continues to recite the battle plan to Mimsy, Elle, and some bored middle kids.

Red stays behind, standing in the cold. I flash him a frown. "Kali!" Red approaches with a half-smile. "You know, ever since I woke... up... I've wanted to speak with you."

"Really." I say.

"I was surprised, earlier, when you seemed so affectionate when I woke up. I think I was primarily relieved, because for the longest time, I've been worried you hated me. I just couldn't stand the thought of that. I think you're the only person who knows what I'm going through," Red says.

"Go on." The house stands before us. The wind licks our ears, angry that we ever had the nerve to show our faces around here.

"Have you ever felt... like you wanted to..." Red pauses and coughs. It's almost endearingly stupid. "Have you ever felt like you wanted to disappear off the planet, Kali? Like through all the madness, you just want things to end?"

It takes all my energy, which I only have enough of thanks to the beans, not to slug him in the face just for knowing that the answer to this question is a foregone conclusion. "What?" I ask.

Time flicks back.

Red begins again, with a renewed sense of confidence across his obnoxiously earnest face: "I just wanted to ask about you and Elle."

This is a little more interesting.

"For some reason, I've always gotten the impression you were jealous of Dylan and I."

"I have always wanted a relationship. I am a hopeless romantic, Red. Don't I just give off the aura?" I ask.

Red laughs. "Course, course. Did that happen when I was asleep?"
"It did," I say. So you can't stop it, or take it away from me.

Red slides a hand up his trenchcoat jacket shoulder. "Seems like a lot of things happened while I was out."

"Yeah, like murder." The wind whistles assent.

Red draws his fingers through his hair. He's grimacing hard."I don't know what to think anymore. It feels like someone stole the world out from under me," Red sighs. "I'm glad to have you and the other older kids to depend on, even if Angel bolted for it. I just wish that Dylan hadn't been so..."

"Dylan hadn't what? That man made a horrible mistake. He decided to mess with the most dangerous Amalgam."

"Me, dangerous? What could..." His voice lowers. Red thinks he has me but I know that this question isn't probing the surface anymore. I know his every vocal tic. I could tell you every one of his innermost thoughts right now. I could expose the pale flesh of every feeling that's crossed his mind since waking up as easily as I could split his body. "What could possibly make you think that, Kali?"

I am powerless. I probe my mind for the truest lie I can manage. "Everyone loves you, Red."

Red's face blushes, even though his eyes are pained as if I'd just stabbed him through the stomach. "That's so kind of you."

"I don't know how you define love in a family like ours. It's a strange, nebulous feeling, the one I have for you, but let's call it affection mixed with respect and healthy fear." Wow, almost not a lie. It's funny how well honesty is working out for me today.

"You keep surprising me today, Kali," Red says.

And you continue to be utterly, utterly predictable, Red. "You've only said I've surprised you once."

Red sucks in a breath. "You surprised me earlier. When I woke up, and you seemed somewhat happy to see me... that was a shocker."

Don't really feel like repeating this. I snap my fingers, losing a few sparks. "Oh. Huh. Right then. I'm going to burn the building. Do you want to watch?"

"You know I don't."

"Maybe you need to."

Red looks forlorn, but he stands and reaches for my hand. I grip it tight, not because I want him to feel better, but because I want this moment to continue into the future. If I pacify him a little, maybe he won't immediately reset over it to try for some greater emotional reveal. I have tight lips and the same foresight he does, but he doesn't know, and boy are his interrogation sessions boring. With my other hand, I summon a ball of bright blue fire and torch the place. It's wood, so it starts going up fast, but I hear a sharp wailing sound from inside.

Huh.

Fire alarms.

"Guess we're leaving," I say. I can shift into my Veritas if necessary, and between that and a few other shifts, we're fast enough to be out of the area without many problems. Not having the little kids around is a huge weight off our shoulders in terms of battle prowess, as unsavory as it sounds.

Red pauses, shoulders scrunching. "Guess we are." I feel my body jolt back again, but the sensation barely changes my position. House is still burning. All that's changed is Red's expression. It's somber, but at the same time, resolution shines through his eyes like the morning sun through two windows. "Come on, Kali. I want to leave this place and everything in it as far behind as possible."

I hate that tone of voice. It's so genuine. He'll show a thousand different sides of himself across restarts, but it's always our Red, our loveable, awkward, teetering over the brink of insanity Red, struggling up through the pages of our mutual history.

I think that has to be the worst part about him.