Jack's eyes flutter open, taking in the room around him after a second.  Mark's room, their room, has one small skylight for natural sunlight despite being underground. The morning sun streams through it, illuminating the room just enough so that Jack can make out the hero's facial features. The Irishman finds his eyes drawn to the small square of light on the floor for just a moment, the dust particles in the air visible in the beam of illumination. His gaze, however, is immediately drawn back to Mark the moment he sees those lovely brown eyes open.

"Morning," the hero murmurs, his morning voice deeper and slower than his normal voice. 

A tingle runs up Jack's spine. "Morning." 

 It takes a moment for the memories of last night to come back, and the second they do the Irishman winces. Mark notices and runs his hand over Jack's side, his fingers tracing the muscles of his back. He doesn't say anything as he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the villain's lips.

Jack kisses back after a moment, his own fingers moving automatically to run along the hero's sculpted muscles. He loves kissing Mark so much that the morning breath doesn't even bother him. His hand finds the bullet scar on the hero's stomach and he covers it with his palm, adding warmth and love to the wounded spot. He can feel Mark's abdomen tense for a second before relaxing again, replaced with a smile against his lips.

"I love you," the hero murmurs.

"I love you too," Jack whispers back.  This is so, so much better than the tension that was thicker than smoke, or sobbing and shaking in a dark closet. Mark is relaxed, and Jack prefers that way more than him hurting.

"What are your plans for today, darling?" the American asks, running his thumb down Jack's jaw.

"Matthew finished the projector, so I'm going to go get it today," Jack replies, leaning against his hand. "How about you?"

"I'm going to finish those maps that I keep procrastinating on and then I'll see how I feel." Mark grins at him. "God, you're so cute I just wanna squish you, but I want to let those pesky bruises heal first. Then I'll squish you."

Jack's lips quirk up into a smile. "You can squish me gently now..."

"Ooh, that works!"

Mark snuggles closer and pulls Jack into him, squeezing lightly just like he promised. Jack nuzzles against his throat, smiling as he presses a kiss to his skin.

"You're gonna come back tonight, yeah?" Mark asks, nuzzling the top of his head.

"Yeah. And I'll have the NAI floor plans with me, so we can start getting this show on the road."

"Excellent." Mark pauses for a moment, a more serious look entering his eyes. "Jack, you'll tell me if anything happens, right? We won't have another replay of last night?"

"I'll tell you this time," Jack murmurs. His fingers tighten against the hero's waist a bit. "I'm sorry for not telling you and having you find out like that..."

"It's okay, Jack. I know now, and as long as you tell me right away when something happens, we can help you."

"Okay. Thank you."

Mark smiles and kisses his head, earning another nuzzle from the Irishman. The two cuddle a bit longer before managing to pull themselves out of bed and get ready for work. Jack pulls his pyjama shirt off without fear and Mark presses a kiss to the dark bruise on his shoulder for extra reassurance. The villain gives him one last goodbye kiss before sprinting to the NAI headquarters, rejuvenated and lighthearted.

He gets inside and moves down the hallway, his boots thumping against the empty hallways. Sometimes, he can almost forget how depressing the living quarters are. Returning never stops feeling like a punch to the gut.

As quietly as possible, he walks towards Matthew's bedroom and pushes open the door. Inside, the villain lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling, crumpled pieces of paper littering his desk. He glances over when the Irishman enters, his muscles relaxing ever so slightly.

"Thank goodness it's just you, Jack," he comments, rubbing his eyes and exhaling heavily.

"Who else would it be?" Jack asks, tilting his head to the side. A bruise lines Matthew's jaw, one that he doesn't remember him having before.

"Oh, you know. The boss. One of his cronies. Them." Matthew waves his hand dismissively and pulls himself upright, getting off the bed and heading to his desk. He lifts a panel from the underside of his desk and allows the metal cube to drop from inside, catching it smoothly. "I believe you came for this. I finished it last night when I couldn't sleep, hence all of the papers everywhere." He laughs lightly and places it in Jack's hands. "I hope it helps... I just want it to be over, and the sooner the heroes help us the better."

The Irishman nods, smiling gratefully at Matthew before glancing back down at the cube. "I always thought you hated the heroes. Now you're helping them."

Matthew sighs heavily and drops down on his bed. "There was a time when I did. My dad always told me that the heroes were the most evil thing to ever touch the planet and I never really gave it much of my own thought."

"When did that change?"

"When the boss started taking over San Francisco in stages, I kind of just... realized how bad it really was. Steph..." He shakes his head, glancing towards the wall where her two guns are mounted. "She confirmed it for me. I saw how broken... how broken Felix was and the pain and when he took her..." He chokes a bit on his words, but before Jack can tell him that it's okay to stop he powers through. "I understood what we had done to him and I couldn't... I couldn't endorse that anymore."

"Oh, Matt," Jack whispers, sitting on the bed next to him. He puts one arm around his shoulders and hugs him, giving him the only comfort he really understands.

"You having Mark back... I'm so happy for you. I really am. I... saw how much you were hurting. I felt the same thing. Now you have a chance to heal and free us in the process."

"Thank you. And I hope that once we're free, you can find happiness again. You're my brother, Matthew. I want you to feel content again."

Matthew smiles and pats the Irishman's back. "Thanks. Now go back to Mark and get him these plans. But make sure the cameras don't see, or I might not survive long enough to see our freedom."

Jack flashes him a thumbs up. "You got it."

——

"I don't want him here. He can just stay at the institute."

"We've already had this discussion, Felix, and I don't want to have it again."

Felix crosses his arms, glaring daggers at Mark. "I don't feel safe with him around. That fact isn't going to change."

The American bristles as he takes a defensive step towards the Swede. "He's not dangerous. I've told you this before."

The living room grows thick with tension as Felix glares at him, his hands balling into fists. Mark glares right back, stoking the fire in the Swede's eyes.

"You can't say that he's not dangerous. It's a lie."

"No, it's not!"

"He could lash out at any moment and kill another one of us! Matthias and I don't want him here!"

"I don't want to hear it, Felix!"

Before he can react, the Swede shoves him against the wall with an arm over his throat. Mark gasps from the sudden pressure on his trachea, his brown eyes locked on Felix's burning blue ones.

"Can you stop being selfish for three goddamn seconds?! I watched as Jack prevented me from saving Marzia. I carried Ken's body off the battlefield after that villain blew him up. I saw him shoot you in the stomach and watched as Phil carried you away, your pulse slowing by the second." Felix presses harder against Mark's throat as the American tries to speak, his tone more intense than Mark has ever heard. "Phil and I overexerted our powers to the point where they were going to kill us in order to save you and then, after all of that, you bring that same villain into our base and command him to stay! We have our reasons for not wanting him here, and I don't care if you don't want to hear it."

He releases Mark's throat and the American crumples, taking deep breaths of air despite the ache in his windpipe. Felix wipes the angry tears from his eyes, unable to even look at the other hero as he turns on his heel and storms down the hall, leaving Mark alone.

The American slowly pulls himself to his feet and stumbles to the couch, falling onto the cushions with a long, tired exhale.