Isaac froze after Elizabeth's question, trying to think of a quick excuse, but Sven was faster. He leaned forward smoothly, his tone serious. "We've received a tip that someone's going to attack the place," he said, lowering his voice for effect. "We're going undercover - working with the Association to protect the crowd."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide. "Really?!" she gasped. "That's amazing! Good job, Isaac!"

Whether she was just unbelievably naive or simply trusted him too much, she believed every word.

Across the table, Irwin and Fletcher Sr. exchanged a knowing look and a faint smile. They weren't fools. Fletcher had already run background checks on them overnight. Between Isaac's mutant status, Sven's fighting record, and Takeshi's mysterious background, they knew one thing for sure - none of them were working for the Association.

Whatever Isaac was up to, it wasn't something they could, or should, interfere with.

The Fletchers had an unspoken understanding with the Association: stay out of each other's way, keep a positive public front, and don't make trouble. That peace had benefited both sides for years. Interfering now would only ruin that balance.

It was similar to the One-Eyed Serpent's arrangement with them.

So Fletcher Sr. said nothing. He simply raised his cup and drank, letting his son do whatever it was he needed to do.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth pouted adorably, still sulking about not being able to go. Isaac looked at her, his stern front faltering just a little. After everything, after all the years apart, he didn't know when he'd get to see her again.

So, he thought to himself, 'Maybe I can make it up to her before I leave.'

"How about I use my ability with you?" he offered aloud. "You seemed curious about it, and that way you won't be upset anymore."

Her whole face lit up. She sprang to her feet as if she'd been shot out of a spring, the earlier pout evaporating. Before he could stop himself, she had grabbed his hand so tightly he could feel the heat in her palm.

"Just to warn you," he said, voice gentle, practical as ever, "we just ate breakfast. You might feel a little sick and dizzy after. Do you still want to?"

She nodded so quickly it was almost childlike. "Yes. Please."

For a moment, Isaac let himself watch her, reminiscing about the little girl who had followed him around the manor with sticky fingers and questions a thousand a minute. She'd grown, but nothing in her behaviour changed the shape of the soft part of him that had always been hers.

"Then here we go."

He phased. The manor around them went thin and gauzy for a second, like an old painting being peeled back to show the world underneath. They rose, not by wings or thrusters, but by that peculiar, weightless glide phasing gave him: a sensation of being threadbare and whole at the same time.

The ceiling above the dining room blurred; light smeared into silver lines. For Elizabeth, this was her first experience of the supernatural.

They flew.

Not like birds, with flapping franticness, but like a thought moving through the rooms of the Fletcher house. Isaac guided them through the manor he had once known by heart - only this time, he cut through it.

Walls dissolved into air and then reformed; staircases slid under them like ribbons. He took her up above the chandeliered halls, where servants rarely trod, and out through stained-glass windows that painted the world in jewel tones.

The estate spread in miniature beneath them - hedges carved into geometric shapes, fountains frozen in time, hedgerows that looked like the teeth of some enormous, slumbering animal.

The morning sun washed the lawns. For Elizabeth, who had never left the estate for more than a handful of supervised events, this felt like flying through a storybook.

Isaac always kept the flight low and to a minimum. Too much altitude made his stomach twist. He still didn't like heights; the phasing had never erased the nausea that came when gravity caught him again. Being weightless was fine. Falling, even hypothetically, was the sort of thing that made the world narrow into a throat.

But he wanted to give her an arc of wonder. He skimmed them through the library walls where he'd hidden from his father as a boy. He phased them through the servant's quarters and the chapel and the empty greenhouse where his mother once tried to cultivate roses. He threaded them through the attic, where forgotten toys lay in dust like a weak constellation of a childhood.

Then he carried her out, higher, just enough to feel the whole house as an island. The manor looked smaller from here, familiar and fragile. He let her shoulders relax against his chest and watched the way the daylight softened her expression.

They hovered over the northern garden, the air smelling faintly of crushed grass and sea salt from the coast beyond. Elizabeth clapped, delighted, and pointed at places where they had memories, like a child at fireworks.

Eventually, Isaac descended, and they landed just outside the manor's main entrance.

"Why'd you stop here?" she asked breathlessly. "Shouldn't we go inside to-"

She didn't finish.

She doubled over, hand to mouth, and began vomiting. The small, sudden noise cracked the magic of the moment like someone snapping a string.

"That's why," he said softly, smiling as he watched her wretch out her entire breakfast.

When she recovered enough to laugh sheepishly and wipe her mouth, he felt something like relief and sorrow braided together.

He took her up to the balcony where they'd started, using his phasing for the last time, not wanting to push his limits. Elizabeth pressed his arm and whispered, "Thank you. That was… the best thing ever."

He kept his voice quiet and unshowy. "I'm glad."

After that, things moved quickly.

Goodbyes said in the doorway that were both soft and brief. Isaac didn't do soppy. He'd never been the sentimental type, and he'd left that impulsive part of himself with the boy who'd run from the manor years ago. But he wanted to give Elizabeth a promise she could hold.

"I'll keep in contact this time," he said, not letting the words stretch into a pledge he didn't mean. "If you need anything, call. I'll be there."

Her eyes shone, full of trust. He softened; it was almost dangerous how easily he melted before her. He chose his next words carefully. "I'll be back this time, don't worry."

'That's... If I don't die first,' he added inwardly, the thought like a small, cold stone that nobody at the manor could feel but him.

Blood mattered more than he realised.. He had friends who were woven into his life through sweat and shared danger, but family carved a space that none of them could. He was glad he'd come.

Forgive, but don't forget: that was the truest thing he could offer. He hoped they might do the same for him in time.

He didn't linger.

There were plans to make, blueprints to study, and a venue to scout.

Team Sexy Kidnappers had a job to do.

With the stadium blueprint folded into his jacket and Sven and Takeshi falling into stride beside him, Isaac set off, phasing through the manor gates like smoke through a seam.

The Fletcher estate quickly receded behind them...

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.