Chapter Text
Some sort of saint.
That is what they called him. A glowing god, a mysterious savior, carved out of the sun—another superhero to patch up Earth when the Avengers could not.
You weren’t sure how many apocalypses you had lived through; you stopped counting after Loki’s shenanigans. The rules were simple: run, hide, don’t be stupid, and don’t wait for golden saviors in the sky. They didn’t have time to save everyone.
You were struggling.
Struggling to regain the life you once had. Before superheroes. Before monsters and portals to other dimensions and mechanical suits and super serums. That part of your life hadn’t been great either; your arms still held the scars of drug addiction and desperation. You had just been lucky to escape it.
The sky sagged under a somber rain, thunder clouds lurking in the distance as you descended the metro stairs. New York was beautiful in the spring. Why did you still stay here despite the heavy past collated here? Despite everything this city had taken from you? You weren’t sure, but maybe it was peaceful moments like this, when you got off of a long shift at the hospital and headed home to curl up on the couch for a movie.
Maybe it was because home didn’t feel like anywhere else.
Well, it did, once. But he disappeared.
You couldn’t blame him either. Drugs do that. They twist your mind and bend your priorities until all you think about is the next time you’ll feel the methamphetamine coursing through you. You should have listened to the drugs when they told you not to trust anyone. But, when you both regained flickers of sobriety and he looked at you just as intently as within the high, you believed that he would stay.
You don’t know what happened to him.
Maybe you didn’t care.
“I’m going to get us out of here,” he had told you once, “And you’ll finish school, and I’ll get some sort of teaching job, and we can live. Really live.”
Just one more high first. In case we don’t make it to tomorrow.
And then you never saw him again.
Late at night, you tell yourself he is just in another part of the world, teaching the kiddos he always wanted. Married someone kind and beat the statistics. Beats all the odds that were against the two of you. You convince yourself that it was the reason you left that world, too. That the high wasn’t worth the loss. Cleaned up. Went to group. Finished your nursing degree and now work to save the people in the same situation you were.
But you were already an anomaly. The unfortunate odds are that it wouldn’t be both of you.
So you work hard. Harder than most of your peers, harder than most of New York probably, to try and satisfy a tapeworm of guilt. To provide a life that you and him always had wanted. To, maybe, keep him alive somehow.
The savior complex is a dangerous mentality. But when you are honest with yourself, it is never as destructive as the situations you were in before.
The metro ride home was peaceful.
Thursday nights were usually still and as sleepy as New York could get. Not quite the weekend, but in the homestretch, when the week seemed to yawn. By the time the train had reached your stop, metallic brakes screeching, it had started to rain. Not a downpour, but the light, fluttery kind. The kind where you breathe in damp asphalt and pollution and remember that life is beautiful and chaotic, and that you wanted to watch a romcom.
You didn’t expect the asphalt to be hurled at you at 100 miles an hour.
Too fast to react.
Death is inevitable. But you were kind of disappointed that you might go out like this. Helpless and in the way. Time seemed to slow, warping around you as you watched your life flash by. Many patients who had been through medical death and lived to tell the tale had said to you that the experience is similar. Breath and collapse colliding as you watch your story unfold infront of you.
So you closed your eyes, bracing for the impact.
It was much softer than you expected. And windier.
And death’s voice was much lighter than you had imagined, “It’s alright. I’ve got you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
You kept your eyes closed. “That’s very nice of you, but I just need some time to process.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. T-take however long you need.”
The wind calmed to a breeze now. But it was cold…and raining?
You opened your eyes slowly.
The sky above was gray and bruised, lights of the skyline blurred by sorrow.
And beneath you—warm arms, strong and familiar. You blinked against the rain.
Despite the darkness around him, golden light clung to his skin like a halo, like it couldn’t quite let go of him yet. The yellow suit was an interesting color choice, but it was no doubt, The Sentry. You had been saved by the god of light himself.
But you knew that face.
Not from the news or grainy hero footage. You knew it from dirty fingernails and too many sleepless nights. From how he used to bite his bottom lip to keep from crying, or how he didn’t know how to maintain eye contact, or how he used to look at you like you were the last solid thing in a world that kept slipping sideways.
“...Bob?”
The name hit your tongue like a bruise. Sweet and aching. It dragged itself from the floor of every breakdown you’d ever had.
His eyes widened, like he wasn’t sure if that name belonged to him anymore. He hesitated momentarily, pausing in the universe, before shaking his head and pressing his hand to his ear.
"Yeah, I’m coming.” He whispered to a wired line before returning his attention to you, “It’s, uh, Sentry, ma’am. I’m here to save you.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”
You smiled. That uncertainty? It was real. It was him .
“I think so?”
“Well, Sentry, I would appreciate not dying via altitude. So, if you have time, do you think you could drop me off at my apartment?”
His face scrunched, flustered. “Yes! Of course. Your address, please?”
You obliged before wrapping your arms around him.
“I’ll, uh, go slow. I promise.”
“I trust you.”
You buried your face into his shoulder, ignoring the wind whistle around your ears and how cold you were. You felt gravity shift around you as he touched down on your apartment balcony. You held on for a moment too long, savoring what once was. But he was bulkier now. Solid. And you could feel him move around you awkwardly. He gently held you to your feet, steadying you as you wobbled.
“Thank you, Sentry. How much do I owe you?”
You fished for your wallet, “Oh–no, ma’am, saving is on the house.”
“Well,” you sighed, “I should repay you somehow. I’m sure saving the world gets tiring. If you ever need a warm meal or a little patching up, stop by.”
He nodded, honeyed eyes glittering with foreign tears. He muttered something under his breath, but you didn’t quite catch it.
“I’m sorry?” you leaned in to hear it again.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I said goodnight, I hope you stay safe.”
You watched the gold blur disappear into the clouds—same sky, same city, same boy you once swore you’d never stop waiting for.