"Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on.
I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you."
― jonathan safran foer

Although a few months have passed since he last stayed in the cabin, not much has changed about it. The only differences are the minor sort, the slight shifts as someone moves a curtain or brushes against the furniture that gently nudges them around. The same pictures hang on the walls. The same blanket hangs over the back of the couch. The television was left at the same angle, facing the reclining chair. All the dishes are kept in the same drawers and cupboards. Most are even left on the same shelf level and near the same type of dishes. It is eerie to find it the same way he left it, but he supposes it is better than the uncanny feeling that would strike him if it were to be different.

There is one difference, though, more noticeable than the rest. A blonde teenager sits across from him at the wood dining table. He doesn't know many blondes, and he has never met one with eyes as brilliantly blue as the teenager's eyes. There is an air of wistfulness around him. His eyes may be brilliant in color but they are not in appearance. It looks like the teenager is distracted by something far beyond the table they are sitting at. The teenager's face is pointed down at his plate, using fingers to pick up the chips spread out across his plate beside his sandwich. Only a bite is missing from that sandwich, but the teenager doesn't seem finished with it.

"Are you enjoying the food?" He asks. He hadn't been planning to make a grand meal. He was only going to eat a quick lunch in order to stock up on some energy for the afternoon. While he had been throwing the ingredients on his plate in the vague shape of a meal, the teenager had walked into the cabin. He startled as the teenager sat down at the dining table. After a moment of tense silence, he asked if the teenager also wanted lunch. He received a nod with no words, so he ended up making two sandwiches with chips on the side. He used the ingredients in the cabin, so he didn't know if the teenager liked it or not. The sandwich, obviously, he knew the teenager liked, but it was the chips he was wary about.

"Yeah," The teenager responds, his voice absent around the edges like a bird mid-flight. The difference between the teenager and a bird is the lack of wanderlust in the former. Birds search when they fly, enjoying the journey and aiming for the destination. The teenager does not seem to have any of that free spirit in him. He seems like he would wander for decades, settling down only when it was the time to die.

"Are you feeling well?" He asks, picking up his sandwich. He takes a bite, carefully watching the teenager. There is something in his movements, a slowness that makes it look like he's disconnected from reality. Everything is going so fast, and the teenager's falling behind. He's terrified that if keeps going at a rate like this, he will turn around to find the teenager gone, no more than a falling feather in the wind to mark that he was ever part of the race. It almost feels like he is spending time with a ghost, not sure when the teenager will pass on to what comes next.

"Yeah," The teenager nods, responding in the same way as before. The teenager lacks any excitable sparks inside of him common of his age group and especially common in his usual self. It almost feels like the teenager is speaking to respond to the noise, not the words. He purses his lips, feeling his appetite slide away from him in slow, lapping waves. He continues to eat, if only for the sense of normalcy it brings him and the excuse to remain seated at the table.

"That's good. I have been well, too, since our last encounter. Have you picked up any new hobbies? Or perhaps you are still playing your video games?" He continues. He is prodding for a conversation, and he doesn't mind what the final topic will be. He's even willing to talk about useless matters if it means getting more than a one-word response. He would talk all day if that's what it took to keep the teenager across the table from disappearing.

"Gaming," The teenager curtly responds. It is slightly better than another 'yeah,' but it is still a one-word answer. It does provide him another consolation. At least the teenager is doing something with his time. While there are more productive activities, he sees the potential in someone who plays a lot. He remembers the games the teenager once played. There was an energetic, interactive dancing one that even allows for multiplayer. There was also a management style game that looked aesthetically pleasing and emotionally soothing. If those are the games the teenager is playing, he approves. He wouldn't even mind if the teenager picked up some violent games. It is one way for the teenager to get out any feelings he's been harboring under the surface.

"That sounds exciting. I might have to pick up a few games for myself. I'm getting older, so retirement is just around the corner. When that comes, I'll have a lot of time to get into the video games," He offers, subtly implying that he could spend more time with the teenager. He knows it is going to be a long shot to secure that gaming session together, but the teenager came here of his violation. Of course, he could have been looking for the other person who lives in this section of the cabin. The teenager could have left, though. There was a moment when he hadn't turned around, so the teenager could have fled before the door even fully opened. It would have been easy, but the teenager decided to stick around for some reason.

The teenager shrugs. He sighs under his breath, realizing they have gone backwards instead of forwards. His appetite has fully run away from him, and the sandwich in his hands is making him nauseous. He sets it down on the plate, ignoring the soft sound it makes as it settles. He pushes the plate away from him. He crosses his hands on the table. He stares up at the person across the table from him. The teenager hesitates, a chip halfway to their mouth. The teenager comes into the moment a little more to raise an eyebrow, curiosity flitting inside their eyes. With the anchor tucking them back into the room, he asks, "What are we doing here, Tommy?"

Tommy shoves the chip into his mouth. He eats it carefully, nudging his own plate away. While his companion doesn't like this, Tommy doesn't pull it back towards him. He takes a sip of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Once he's done, he leans back in the chair. He crosses his arms over his chest. He looks around the room, his eyes eventually finding their way back to the person speaking to him. Tommy sighs, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. Tommy's actions are quick and flighty, but the energy that has returned to Tommy's bones makes him happy to see, even if Tommy is prolonging the words he wants to say.

"Crowfather was important to me," Tommy speaks up, using more words than he's said this entire encounter. Tommy leans forward in his seat, meeting the other's eyes. "The hero was my role model, and the bird was... He was good for me. Philza was kind to me, far more than he really should have been. I've recently discovered that I don't have any problems with Azrael. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust you again, but fuck it, I just want that comfort back."

Tommy sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He exhales slowly from his lips, the air deflating from his cheeks. He meets Philza's eyes with a lost, heavy kind of sadness, one that Philza wants to smooth away with everything inside of him. He almost does reach forward to hold Tommy, but he's given a terrible smile, one that isn't technically forced but might as well be for how sad it actually is. "Even if I can't get that comfort back, I want answers, Phil. I want to know why the fuck you did all of that frankly really confusing bullshit."

"That's something I can do," Philza nods, intending for it to be an answer to Tommy wanting answers but also hoping it means Philza can go back to being a comfort for Tommy. He is going to try his best either way, starting with the easier one to answer. He is taking responsibility for his actions, all of them.

A long time ago now, at least a decade, Philza was born in a poor section of Empires. His father was gone even before he gained his sense of self. His mother was there, but in a distant way. She took care of him because he was a child, not because he was her child. Philza often wondered if he was her child. He knew that even if he came from her, she considered the gang she was affiliated with to be her family. He was not part of that family. He was a child that couldn't do anything beneficial. She gave him food and water, a place to sleep at night, and occasionally clothing, but he knew not to expect attention or love beyond that. He was a chore- not a person.

Lucky for Philza, he was born with a strong spirit. He learned how to do things for himself. He let her do everything he couldn't do by himself, but the moment he was strong enough, smart enough, tall enough, whatever threshold he needed to cross, he took that responsibility on for himself. He became independent earlier than any child should, but he wasn't unique among the children of Empires. Everyone had terrible parents who either didn't love them or couldn't take care of them- oftentimes both.

While those other children chose gangs, Philza was more ambitious than his peers. He set his sights on the heroes. He thought of them as the strongest and richest people in the entire city. If he was a hero, he wouldn't need to feel so powerless ever again. As a bonus, Philza could use his status and learned skills to bring reform to Empires. He could stop children from going into gangs just to feel loved. He could give them an opportunity to find their own paths, to find their own happiness.

Philza was lucky enough to experience an awakening. Unlike other espers, Philza's awakening couldn't be attributed to a single traumatic event. It was a few small moments that upset his psyche piling together until Philza's greatest wish was to simply fly away from Empires like a bird. Then, he became a bird. He was a crow in appearance but not quite anatomy. Just as he was in better shape than his human peers, he was in better shape than his avian ones. With the strength to fly far and fly fast, Philza marched into the Hero's Guild. He demanded to be taken seriously, and he was lucky enough to be spotted by a person that saw potential in him. The person was XD, the guildmaster himself. XD told Philza not to disappoint him, and Philza swore he wouldn't. As someone who held tightly to promises, Philza outdid the other children gathered to get their licenses. Philza earned his place in a training program.

Philza was paired along with another boy who called himself Sneeg. The two of them were put under the same hero and put in the same room. They would have been close regardless of their initial impressions of each other, but for some reason, they really hit it off. They were both unloved kids from Empires. They had similar humor. Philza doesn't know what Sneeg saw in him, but Philza can still remember the moment he realized that Sneeg was his brother. Sneeg was the only person Philza had ever been close to. He was the only person who knew how terribly lonely Philza had been growing up. Sneeg never laughed at Philza. He just ran a hand through Philza's hair, a cheeky smile on his face as he declared Philza would never be lonely again. Neither of them would be if they stuck together.

Near the end of their training, Philza was forced to grapple with the truth of the Hero's Guild. He knew of the corruption. He knew about the information that was kept from the public. He knew about the hero's unwillingness to step in to help the economic decline in Sandlands, the gangs in Empires, or the political repression in L'Manberg. The heroes were meant to keep the balance, not the peace, not really. They could allow injustice to happen if it meant keeping the city in check. To make matters worse, Philza didn't like the bounty system. A lot of villains were left to their own devices only because no one was willing to add enough money to the bounty for the heroes to take interest in it. Philza felt like they were more similar to mercenaries than heroes, and Philza couldn't stand the thought of it.

Philza went through with becoming a hero. He tried to do his best in his position, but he really couldn't stand the way the council acted. He even came to hate XD. The guildmaster was a big picture kind of person. He was willing to let the people suffer and heroes die in order to maintain the city. Philza understood this mentality once, but resentment blurred his rationality. He couldn't see why people had to suffer unnecessarily. He didn't see why people had to die for a prosperous future that wasn't coming.

Philza's anger boiled over until he started packing his bags, ready to leave. Sneeg caught him. Instead of trying to convince Philza to stay or snitching on him to the council, Sneeg declared that he had been waiting for Philza to get fed up for years now. Sneeg's bags were already packed, and he ran away from the Hero's Guild with Philza. They stuck together, and Philza remembered the promise Sneeg made to him about never being lonely again. Philza remembers smiling even as he descended back into the cold, dirty streets of his birthplace.

Philza and Sneeg started their campaign against the Hero's Guild by stealing under the duo name: Syndicate. They snuck into warehouses, taking potions and weapons. They redistributed the potions to the people, but they sold the weapons to vigilantes who were trying to help the people in their own way. As runaways from the Hero's Guild and thieves, Philza and Sneeg could never technically be vigilantes, but they were respected by that community. They were given lenience. They were even given help when the vigilantes could manage it. Philza felt like he was really making a difference.

Then, he met two kids in an alleyway. They were both tired, dirty, and distrustful. One of them was even covered in enough blood that Philza was surprised he wasn't dead or caught by the Moderators. Philza to this day doesn't know why he offered his hand to those children. He was just a thief fighting against the Hero's Guild. He wasn't a father; he was barely a son or a brother. Yet, Philza couldn't stop himself from offering to take those boys home. Obviously, the two refused. They ran away. Philza should have let it go, accepting that some children didn't want to be saved, especially not by a stranger.

Philza should have, but he didn't. He found those kids again. He gave them a healing potion. He gave them some sandwiches he had made for them to eat. He stayed motionless, watching over them until they ran away again. Philza kept coming back, compelled to help those kids even when it took him hours to actually find them. Eventually, they took the hand offered to them, and Philza got to hold his sons, Techno and Wilbur, for the first time. Sneeg called him soft, but Philza never felt stronger until he was responsible for two precious lives.

Not long after the adoption (though they didn't have legal paperwork), Philza came into contact with something beyond the veil of the world. He met a woman in his dreams who felt far too real to simply be an illusion of his mind. He found her again in a temple, staring up at the statue of a great goddess who holds the secrets of life and death in the palm of her hands. Her laughter filled his head as he bowed for the first time, finding the love of his life and religion all in one day. Sneeg never believed him, but Wilbur and Techno truly did believe that this woman was their mother. Philza doesn't know if they could see the truth in Philza's eyes or if his lady gave herself away to their innocent hearts.

Philza didn't push his sons to become villains even after discovering one was an esper and another had inherited the powers of a vigilante Philza once knew. They took the path of villainy for their own reasons. Philza didn't want them to get hurt, so he allowed them to join the Syndicate. He would have rathered they do villainy with him instead of sneaking off to die in a random alleyway. Sneeg didn't mind the help even if he complained about greenhorns. It took some time, but Techno and Wilbur found their way as villains and as members of the Syndicate.

The Syndicate wasn't supposed to grow any bigger than that, but a vigilante stumbled into their lives. Techno and Philza took her captive. Philza never explained the reason why, especially after he found an unmasked Wilbur crying in the arms of the unmasked vigilante. She was part of the family Wilbur had been grieving since the moment Philza met him. The unmasked vigilante, Niki, revealed that her partner, another vigilante, was another member of this family. Jack came into their lives. Philza allowed them to stay because it made Wilbur happy. He let them join the Syndicate for the same reasons he let Techno and Wilbur join, though only slightly different. He originally only cared about Niki and Jack because they were important to Wilbur, and Philza would have done anything to prevent his son's unhappiness.

Philza did eventually come to care for them as their own people, respecting their contributions and enjoying their company. Not only were they good villains, but the bar Jack ran was a beneficial place to smuggle goods and meet with people who could help the Syndicate bring down the Hero's Guild.
More than a few months later, perhaps even a year or two, a member of the Hunters came knocking on the Syndicate's door. Philza did not trust Sam, not at first, but he saw value in keeping Sam as a trial member. The others reluctantly agreed. Sam proved his value as a villain, but it didn't take many conversations for Sam to become one of Philza's friends. They had a lot in common, including being fathers of headstrong children who often forget how much their parents love them. While she didn't join the Syndicate, Philza genuinely respected Briar and didn't mind speaking with her.

Sam's appearance created the unique opportunity for Ranboo to appear on the Syndicate's radar. Ranboo got close with the Syndicate, particularly Sam and Techno, without switching his position from a vigilante to a villain. Philza didn't mind, so he let Ranboo do as he pleased. He didn't even mind when Ranboo got his own place to stay in Snowchester at the edge of the property Philza legally bought to raise his sons on.

Through Ranboo's connection with another vigilante, Niki, Jack, and Wilbur found Tubbo. The boy was eager to join the Syndicate with his family, but his caretakers weren't so keen on doing that. Tubbo's aunt, Puffy, revealed herself to be a healer. She agreed to work with the Syndicate at their exclusive healer if it meant protecting her nephew and getting back at the institution she partially blamed for her and her blood brother's villainy. Seeing his foster sister and adopted son's loyalty, Jordan became a spy on the inside for the Syndicate as Red Dragon. Philza became friends with them just like he did with Sam.

With that, the Syndicate was complete. They were full-fledged villains that were revered and feared. They were making strides in taking down the Hero's Guild for good. They were succeeding, so Philza wasn't too surprised when the rumors reached his ears about a hero who was gunning for the heads of the Syndicate. The others had mixed opinions about the rumors, especially after discovering they were true. Philza only wanted to see who wanted the Syndicate's leaders gone so badly. He personally decided to investigate without telling anyone. He didn't think it was a big deal as he watched Vendetta from a distance. He was only trying to determine the hero's threat level. He was even assessing his potential, conforming they wouldn't have a future headache.

Just like that night he found Wilbur and Techno, Philza found himself compelled by something beyond reason to reach out to Vendetta. The hero was far more accepting of the crow than the boys were of the man, but Vendetta maintained a level of distance at all times. Philza found himself doing the same thing he did for his sons. He brought Vendetta sandwiches, knowing about the weird soup the guild gives to its members. Vendetta was hesitant, at first, but his desire for food that tasted like something won out. As Vendetta grew accustomed to the crow's appearance and the sandwiches, he started to open up. Philza didn't need to do much to discover how powerful Vendetta was and what his motivations were. Once the information was his, Philza should have disappeared. He should have, but he found himself caring about Vendetta.

When Ranboo convinced Vendetta to ally with the Syndicate to fight the Red Army, Philza saw an opportunity to get close to Vendetta as a person. He knew that he would be hurting Vendetta eventually, but he also knew that he would hurt Vendetta by abandoning him. He knew Vendetta would have been on a much darker path if Philza had never gotten involved at all. Tommy needed someone, and Philza was willing to fill that position. Everything Philza did, everything he's ever done, is because he cares. He cares about Empires, he cares about Sneeg, he cares about his sons, he cares about the people in the Syndicate, and now he cares about Tommy.

Philza tells Tommy all of this. He uses as many details as he can without really dwelling for too long. He uses Tommy's facial movements to determine what he needs to touch on, what requires more information or what should be concluded. Tommy, at least, seems fascinated the entire time, hearing both about Philza's history and his family. Philza even finds himself feeling lighter after contextualizing his past. It feels nice to share all those memories with someone who wasn't involved in it yet still cares enough to retain all of the information.

When Philza concludes his story, Tommy sighs heavily. He leans back, tilting his head towards the ceiling. He watches the fan spin in slow circles. Philza waits, letting everything he just said sink into Tommy's mind and heart. Eventually, Tommy turns his head. He continues leaning back, but he now looks to the side. He stares across the room, and Philza follows his line of sight to the pictures hanging along the wall. Philza smiles bitterly. If Tommy had come to this side of the cabin when he was staying with Techno while getting over the injection from the Red Army, Tommy would have learned the truth much sooner. Philza has a lot of pictures, especially of his family. They are all outside of the mask, so Philza can pick out Wilbur's young, smiling face. Tommy seems to be able to do the same thing.

Tommy rolls his head forward. He looks like he's seconds away from tears. He runs a hand along the side of his face. He looks at Philza's chest. His voice is choppy like a lake underneath a strong wind. "I'm still fucking upset with you for tricking me. That doesn't mean I don't get it. Crowfather has saved my life so many times. Philza was someone I could rely on. Azrael kept me alive out of spite."

Philza feels his skin prickle. He doesn't like it when Tommy talks like this. He never liked it when Vendetta did, either. There seemed to be heaviness in his soul, a careless approach to life in his mind.

Tommy looks up with a smile that seems far happier than any smile he's shown this entire lunch. "I've reunited with my family, if you didn't know. I'm living for them. No, I'm actually living because i fucking want to. I know that I'm going to be mad at you for a long time, but I'm not angry enough to stay away from you anymore. Every persona you have has been important to me. I want you back in whatever capacity I can have you in. I'll take whatever disguise you want to wear."

"I think I'll be myself this time," Philza assures Tommy, a slow smile creeping on his lips. He doesn't mind Tommy's anger. He'll take the full brunt of it if that means he can continue caring about Tommy. At least, Tommy can finally be angry at the truth, at the person Philza is at his very core. They can finally be honest with each other.

"Fuck yeah!" Tommy cheers, and his smile grows so bright. Philza never knew Tommy- that Vendetta- could smile like that. He thought the threat he was investigating all those years ago would never be able to rid himself of the darkness surrounding his very body, sticking as close as a second skin. This smile proves Philza wrong, but it isn't like Philza minds being wrong about this. He is glad that Tommy can be so openly, so radiantly happy.

Tommy stands up. He walks around the side of the table. He plops down in the chair next to Philza. He scoots the chair over, creating an ugly noise as the legs scrap against the floor. Tommy doesn't stop until he's right next to Philza. Tommy leans his head on Philza's shoulder. Philza takes in a single breath, exhaling in adoration as Tommy deposits his entire weight on Philza's body. For the first time since Tommy wandered into the cabin, he is relaxed. "I'm glad we made up."

"I'm glad, too," Philza assures Tommy. He wraps his arm around Tommy, lifting his hand up to mess with the blonde's hair. Tommy willingly leans into the touch, and Philza smiles at the teenager. It doesn't matter to him how Tommy looks at him, how angry he'll be on their deathbeds, Tommy is as much Philza's son as Wilbur and Techno are. It isn't only because Tommy is close with those two, but also Philze's natural instincts. Or maybe, it was the meddling of his lady. Either way, Tommy is Philza's. He's Philza's son, his littlest one, someone he needs to protect and love.

"You know, Niki got me a journal. She told me I'm supposed to write down everything I want in it," Tommy mentions absentmindedly, his voice fuzzy around the edges with a restfulness that comes from peace. "It's so fucking difficult at times, but I've been making a list."

"Was making up with me on that list?" Philza asks, figuring that was the reason why Tommy brought it up.

"It was, yeah, but... well, there was something else on the list. I want a family picture. I have that one with my siblings, but it's- it's shit. It's blurry. It's fading from age. It's in black-and-white. We all look like the homeless children that fucking article was talking about. I'm not even looking at the damn camera! I've carried that picture with me for so long. It's my prized possession, but I- I want a new one. I want a real one, not a cut-out from a newspaper," Tommy begins to explain, and Philza thinks Tommy is staring at the pictures on the wall again. It is true that none of them include Tommy. For as intelligent as he is in his crow form, Philza can't use a camera with wings for hands. Even if he could, he wouldn't have gotten a picture of Tommy and the others. Tommy sighs, tucking his face into Philza's shoulder, murmuring, "I want you to be in it."

"Aw, bud, I would love to be in it," Philza agrees immediately. He's touched that Tommy would consider him family, consider him as important as the siblings he devoted his life to.

"I wouldn't mind if Sneeg's bitchass is in it, either."

Philza laughs coolly. "I think he would like that."