SOMEONE'S SOMEONE

The weight of the decrypted files sat heavy in the air.

The room was dim, the only source of light coming from the scattered holoscreens still displaying fragments of data before flickering out, leaving behind only shadows and silence.

Myst sat alone, her fingers loosely gripping a small, broken comms device she had picked up somewhere along the way. The dim glow of distant city lights barely reached this part of the safehouse, leaving her detached from the hum of voices inside.

The others had taken to sorting through what remained of the data, but she had needed space. Needed air. Needed time to process what she had just learned.

The data they had uncovered burned in her mind. It was her, or at least a version of her she didn't understand yet.

He didn't say anything at first, just approached with quiet steps before settling down beside her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, as if giving her time to decide whether she wanted him there.

"You don't have to figure it all out tonight," he finally said, his voice low but steady.

Myst let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "I don't even know where to start. It's like reading about a stranger and realizing it's supposed to be me."

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the broken comms. "What if I'm just..." The words felt foreign in her mouth, heavy and uncertain. "What if I'm just a rewrite waiting to happen? What if I was never meant to be more than a ghost in a system?"

Nyx exhaled softly, tilting his head slightly. "Sounds to me like you're afraid someone else gets to decide what you are."

Her grip on the comms grew firmer. "It's… I don't even know who I was before all of this. And now? Knowing I was meant to be some kind of—" She stopped herself. The words felt too big, too terrifying to say aloud. "It doesn't feel real."

"But it doesn't change how we see you. How I see you."

Myst turned to look at him then, searching for something in his expression. There was no teasing smirk, none of his usual easy confidence. Just quiet sincerity.

The exhaustion crept up on her, heavy and inescapable. She hadn't realized how much the weight of the past few days had drained her. She felt raw, exposed, like the mere act of existing had become too much to bear.

Nyx must have noticed because, before she could argue, he guided her to rest against his shoulder. "Just for a bit," he murmured.

She tensed at first, unfamiliar with this kind of closeness, but the warmth was grounding. Familiar. Safe, even. She let her eyes close, just for a moment, allowing herself to sink into the moment.

The scent of leather and faint traces of gunpowder clung to his jacket, a quiet reminder of the world they still had to face.

Nyx remained still, gaze flickering to the small device she held before returning to her. His jaw tensed slightly as if something weighed on him, something unsaid. His lips parted, the words forming but never spoken.

Instead, he let out a quiet breath and simply stayed there, his hand lightly brushing against hers. He didn't pull away.

And maybe that was for the best. Because once the truth came out, moments like this would be impossible.

"You know, standing there won't make her feel good."

Flux exhaled sharply through his nose, not even glancing at Echo, who had crossed his arms beside him. "Piss off," he muttered.

Echo huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "She's not gonna break, you know."

Flux remained quiet, gaze fixed on the doorway Myst and Nyx had disappeared through. He knew that. Of course he knew that.

But that didn't stop the uneasy weight settling in his chest.