“Someday”

Chapter Three: Has Come

“What happened to you back there?” Canard charged softly so as to not wake his sleeping counterpart.

Leaning up against Wildwing, Nosedive dozed. Every so often, his face clenched in trepidation, and he whined and mumbled softly, caught up in phantasms that were too true for a hatchling his age. Wildwing brushed his hand through the teen’s hair, calming him almost instantly.

The older brother tilted his head back against the tree trunk and sighed. “I…don’t…know,” he replied in tired honesty. “It was like…like I was Drake for a moment.”

“How could you have been like Drake?” Canard retorted surly. He fixed his brother with a harsh glower. “Don’t tell me you were possessed by some apparition.”

Wildwing snorted. “No, I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I don’t know, okay!” Wildwing yelled in frustration. He immediately looked down at the teenager leaning against him. When Nosedive moaned for a moment, then nuzzled up to Wildwing’s side, the twin brother seethed in a whispered, “I don’t know. It was like I saw what happened all those years ago.”

“Well, between your back-sight and the kid’s reading of Ancient Avian, we might almost have the entire story of Drake DuCaine. Might help us later against the Saurians.”

Wildwing shook his head with a smirk. “Glass’s half-full, isn’t it, Canard?”

“The ice is always the whitest under my skates, bro.” Canard pointed to the necklace whisked around Wildwing’s fingers. “So, what are we going to do with that?”

“Well, if Nosedive’s correct, it’s the Key to Dimensional Limbo, Canard.”

“And the answer to our lizard problem.”

Wildwing stared at it, transfixed. The image of Draven holding the H.O.C.-Key in his hands shot through his head.

The scars, the pale feathers, the cold, death-like touch of his hand…

He couldn’t.

It was Draven’s death wish.

How he knew that, Wildwing didn’t know, but he would be damned if he was going to get his little brother killed by giving him the Key. On the other hand, he couldn’t keep it. All that power in one’s hands…Drake knew better, and so would he. He could give it to Canard, but that didn’t feel right. It belonged to Draven; it belong to Nosedive.

It did.

“I would keep it.” Canard shifted uncomfortably under the tree perpendicular to Wildwing and shrugged as he closed his eyes. “But by the look in your eyes, I think you already have a plan.”

“Bro?”

Canard opened his eyes exasperatingly. “Yeah?”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

Canard shrugged indifferently. “Hey, I wasn’t the one possessed by some centuries-dead hero or the one who has to wear some dirty, old hockey equipment. I’m content with my position.”

“What position?” demanded Wildwing.

“You can wear the Mask, Wing, but,” Canard leveled him with a amused glare, “I’m going to lead the team.”

“Like hell!”

“SHHH!” Canard smiled and pointed to the sleeping teen. “We can’t argue now. Just nod and agree.”

Wildwing narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, you shut up.”

“We’re twenty-three, Canard. This isn’t mature.”

“Shut up.”

*^*^*

“It sucks,” Nosedive ranted, crossing his arms and slumping with a sigh. “Seriously. I had a month! A whole month until the Trials, and then the Saurians just show up with their mondo firepower and major power trip, thinking they can just rule the world, and you know what? They can!”

“No way,” Canard scoffed, amazed. “You’ve got to be stealing my puck.”

“Dude, I’m totally on the level,” Nosedive replied flatly. “See, my hatching day is actually a month after the Trials, so when I turned fifteen, I had to wait thirteen months before I could try out for the Zenith.” He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “My best friend Tremaine, right? His hatching day is two months prior to mine, so he was able to try out. He sucked and totally didn’t make the team, but at least he got to go through the Trials. Me, a whole six months before I turn seventeen, have never tried out once! It’s so not fair!”

Canard sent the teen a commiserating look and ran a hand through his hair. After four days without a shower, his tan bangs stuck up as if they had been gelled that way. Nosedive chuckled at the style, but tried to keep a straight face. He failed.

Wildwing, walking a few strides in front of them, looked back over his shoulder and shook his head.

“Now that we have the Mask, we’ll kick those scaly demons off of planet, and you’ll be able to do the Trials before your seventeen hatching day,” Canard consoled firmly.

“I hope so,” Nosedive responded a snort, glancing up at Canard’s hair. “I mean, seriously. I could turn legal, reach adulthood, and never once—Ha!—…uh, got to play for my province.”

Canard furled an eyebrow at Nosedive’s slip, but shrugged it off. “You don’t even know if you would have made the team, kid.”

Nosedive snorted. “Are you kidding me? I would have made it, flat out.”

“Sure, kid. Sure.”

“You don’t believe me?” Nosedive asked. His dangerous smirk didn’t flitter pass Canard. “One day, dude. One day, you versus me. I’ll show you just why you should be shaking in your skates over your position.”

“My position?” Canard repeated, unsure where the boy was going.

“You and your brother played for the Zenith team, didn’t you? You were the starting left wing, and he,” Nosedive pointed to Wildwing, “was the starting goalie. I remember. I went to all the games.”

“So what does that have to do with my position?”

“I play left wing,” Nosedive declared proudly, “and if I remember correctly, so do you. Get ready to lose that, brudda. It’s all mine.”

Canard ruffled the teen’s hair and opened his smirked beak to retort—

*BLAST!*

Canard slammed Nosedive face-first into the ground, using his body to shield the teen’s as shots blasted the dirt next to them.

“What’s going on!” Nosedive shouted wildly, lifting his head up slightly.

Canard forced it back down with a rough hand. “Keep your head down!”

Focusing on the ground, Nosedive cringed, his body tensing, as the shots exploded about them. He waited to be hit, waited for the pain to erupt from his side or his head. He buried his head in his arms and felt Canard’s hot breath against his neck, the older duck’s beak pressed down tightly into his neck. One arm around Nosedive’s torso, the other hand pushing down on the boy’s head, Canard left no room for Nosedive to move.

“It’s going to be okay!” Canard kept yelling at him over and over. “Stay with me, kid!”

Suddenly, a twinkling noise glittered through the air, and the shots no longer burst around them. Nosedive winced as Canard’s weight shifted on top of him. While Canard was not a big person, he still hurt with his entire weight pressing down on Nosedive.

Canard rolled off of him completely, and by the time Nosedive rolled over, the older duck had already switched into battle gear. Grasping Nosedive forcibly, Canard hauled the teen to his feet, then shoved him furiously behind a tree.

“Stay,” was the only command spoken.

As shots pelted the tree, despite Wildwing blocking them, Canard rolled on the ground and came up to his feet behind his twin brother.

Nosedive crouched behind the tree, peeking out behind him. Wide-eyed, he pulled back as more fireballs slammed into the side of the tree. He didn’t get a good look, but hiding in the trees beyond Wildwing and Canard were Saurians. And this close to the Resistance cell…

There was a traitor.

They were waiting for them to return, waiting for them to be off guard and vulnerable.

Nosedive’s head perked up at the onslaught of blasts, more than just a few Saurians could fire. Carefully, he peered around the tree. The Saurians must have forgotten about him because suddenly, no blasts showered his cover. His eyes immediately spotted Wildwing and Canard. Wildwing blocked a few shots with his shield and returned fire with unbelievable poise, hitting hunter drones directly in the chest. Canard was only a few feet away, using his close combat skills to kick a hunter drone into another and firing a single shot, getting both with one. While the twin brothers weren’t exactly back-to-back, per se, they were close enough to watch each other’s rear and shout commands and warnings.

They were the perfect team, but still, there were so many hunter drones. It was only a matter of time until—

A hunter drone jumped in between Canard and Wildwing, in their blind spots. They couldn’t see it as the A.I. reject lifted his arms until they were horizontal and—

Nosedive’s breath caught in his throat as he hit the button on his comm. unit, and in a flash of green, Wildwing’s jacket, his tee-shirt and jeans disappeared, then reconstructed as a teal jumpsuit, covered with white armor. He didn’t even have time to think of what he was doing before he did it. He reached for the puck launcher he knew unconsciously would be hanging from his waist.

Leaping from outside the tree, he aimed mechanically and at once, fired.

The head of the hunter drone shot off, its neck sparking like a fountain of electricity.

Breathing deeply, Nosedive blinked as all the attention was suddenly focused upon him, hunter drones and ducks alike. “Uh, hi…there…” he sputtered hesitantly, his voice waning.

The hunter drones’ blasters turned as one toward Nosedive, motivating the teen to duck and roll on the ground as lasers burned above his head. He uncurled at Wildwing’s feet, and Canard joined them a minute, all three closely knitted.

“Are you insane?” Wildwing chastised as he fired at the hunter drones, but didn’t dare leave the teen’s side. “Do you want to die!”

“They were going to whack you!” Nosedive defended, looking up briefly at Wildwing.

The older drake nudged him rather hard in the side without even looking at the teen. “Look at what’s in front of you, not at me!”

“Stick at my side!” Wildwing commanded, lifting his gauntlet over Nosedive’s head and firing. “Move when we tell you! Don’t question!”

“To your left, kid!” Canard shouted, directing Nosedive attention toward another hunter drone aiming at him.

“Right flank! Two drones! Shoot now!”

“Left! NO! Your other left!”

Nosedive breathed deeply and would have retorted but honestly didn’t know what to say nor could concentrate on the thought process for more than a second. He had never been in a firefight before, and everything was so magnified. The hunter drones just kept coming! It was like they just appeared out of thin air! In a flash of green light and the formation of more drones, he realized with exasperated fear just how right he was.

Focusing on the hunter drones directly in front of him, he couldn’t wipe the sweat that gathered on his forehead and dribbled down his face. His arm began to ache from keeping it erect for so long. He silently thanked his father for taking him to the base to learn how to shoot, but now he wished he would have listened to Dad when he requested more hours at the shooting range.

Nosedive’s arm began to quiver as the dull ache suddenly became fiery agony.

“Stay alert!” Wildwing ordered, though it wasn’t as firm as before, and Nosedive didn’t miss the tinge of fearful desperation evident in the command. “Don’t die on me, you understand!”

“Are you blind? They just keep—”

“No excuses!” Wildwing refused to accept Nosedive’s statement. “You will survive! Got it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Hey, I ain’t disagreeing!”

A sinister laughter sent chills through Nosedive’s spine. He glimpsed about frantically, knowing that the hunter drones couldn’t laugh. It had to be a Saurian.

Where are you, you fire-breathing snake?

His eyes went wide when a green flash of light formed to his left.

“NOSEDIVE!” He heard Wildwing shrill.

Before Nosedive could react, something rock hard smashed into his side, sending him flying into the snow. He tumbled to a stop in the mud, grimacing and groaning. As he blinked at the pain that throbbed in his head—he must have knocked it somewhere—he shook it slightly to get rid of the double vision that surfaced. Lifting his head with wariness, he noticed, terrifyingly, the robes of a Saurian mage on the ground. His eyes drifted upward, his breath rapidly increasing.

A ghost-like being with horns and bulging, crimson eyes scrutinized him with a demonizing smirk. He clutched a staff with a duck’s skull thrust onto its top. His bony fingers wavered in a slow motion.

“So infantile,” the mage hissed maliciously. His tone was low and cruel. “They will mourn you, bloodless. None thicker than water.”

Nosedive stared, transfixed, beak agape, at the eyes dilating in the Saurian’s pupils, stealing his complete attention and refusing to return it.

“NOSEDIVE!” Wildwing screamed as he blasted another hunter drone. He started toward his brother, only for a flash of green and a Saurian to appear in front of him. The little, scrawny-looking lizard suddenly increased his body size by three times and slammed Wildwing with its tail, knocking the white mallard farther away from his brother.

Canard lunged at the mage when the lizard spouted a myriad of Saurian words. Then, unexpectedly, right before the tan mallard reached the mage, the lizard swung on his heel, blasting the tan mallard with a strike of lightning.

Nosedive shook his head and blinked. What had just happened? Where was he? He glanced up at the mage, then, instantly, flicked his legs to the side, catching the lizard by the knee caps and sending him crashing to the ground. The ground underneath him suddenly began to shake, and he whirled around, gaining his footing, but none-too-steady. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of a hippo-sized Saurian charging at full speed toward him. Allied with a venomous smirk, the Saurian was armed with the lance, directly aimed at the teen’s stomach.

Nosedive reached for his launcher, only to find his holster empty. He must have lost it when he was kicked!

Whirling back to the Saurian, wide-eyed and breathless, he ducked the first strike, then spied his launcher not five feet away, stuck in the mud.

“Stay put, you grungy gander!” the Saurian demanded furiously.

“Sorry, but I don’t take orders from a scaly serpent!” Nosedive jumped out of the way of the lance, then dove for his launcher—only he didn’t make it.

A sharp, unbelievable pain pierced through his side. A macabre scream escaped through his beak, and he crashed hard into the snow and mud, his momentum gone, the air forced out of his lungs. Teeth clenched, sweat dripping from his face, the teen lay face-up, spurts of pain ravaging his side, causing him to shake with convulsions. He stared through squinted and pained eyes at the cause of his plight.

“NOSEDIVE!” He heard vaguely. The voice was scared, horrified, but so far away.

That drew a smug smirk and haughty chuckle that sounded from depths of the Saurian’s being. Scrutinizing his work as if he had created a masterpiece, the Saurian nodded self-assuredly at the writhing and breathless Nosedive, unmoving and expelling precious life force.

Bending down, he brushed a muddy lock of Nosedive’s hair out his face, then spat in it, hitting the teen in the eyes.

“Die painfully for me, would you, pathetic weakling?” He growled in a hoarse voice, then hit his teleporter. He faded into a shimmering green light.

Laying dejectedly on the ground, pain flaring in his body to unfathomable magnitudes, Nosedive couldn’t even move enough to wipe the spit from his face. He closed his eyes, and all he wanted to do was be out of pain.

A commotion sounded next to him, and he ever so slowly opened his eyes. Wildwing’s worried and frightened face entered his vision, but was blurred from stinging sweat and awful discharge.

The older mallard knelt next to Nosedive. Eyes surveying desperately, taking everything in silently, Wildwing looked on the verge of hysterics; however, he sent a reassuring smile that wavered slightly and wiped the spit from Nosedive’s eyes. The teen felt so pathetic. He didn’t like feeling helpless. He didn’t want Wildwing to see him like this.

He hissed and cringed, his body tensing as a wave of pain flooded his being.

“It’s okay,” Wildwing consoled, tenderly touched the top of Nosedive’s forehead and trailing his fingers through his hair. “Relax. Everything’s going to be okay,” he soothed gently. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here, all right?”

The teen opened his beak numbly, to which Wildwing returned curtly, “Don’t. Save your energy.”

Gulping, the teen melted limply to the ground, his breathing awkward and erratic. He didn’t have the will to fight the older mallard. He just needed to sleep.

A second later, Canard dropped to his knees next to Wildwing, switched to his street clothes, and tugged off his jacket and shirt. Wildwing took them immediately. Nosedive didn’t have the energy to move his head, but he heard, not without a shot of pain, a crack cut through the air. Wildwing tossed the top half of the lance to the side, then curled Canard’s shirt and jacket about the lance and secured it in place snuggly.

“Stay with us, kid,” Canard’s voice called to him, and someone squeezed his hand.

As much as Nosedive tried, as much as he willed himself to stay awake, the pain overtook his being, and he felt his body shudder uncontrollably.

“NO!” He heard someone yell as the darkness claimed him. “Don’t you dare break your promise, baby bro! Stay with me!”

Wha…Baby bro?

Nosedive struggled with all the strength he could muster, but in the end, it wasn’t enough.

He lost.

*^*^*

“MEDIC!” Wildwing screamed madly as he rushed inside the infirmary. Nosedive hung lifelessly in his arms, his legs dangling over Wildwing’s forearm, his head leaning against the older mallard’s shoulder. Blood stained the clothes wrapped around the broken lance, then flowed down the teen’s side and coated his stomach and Wildwing’s jumpsuit and armor. Canard entered a few steps behind the frantic mallard, bare chest and stomach feathers bloodied as well.

The honey-feathered female with dark red hair, dressed in a Resistance uniform, waved her head over the crowded infirmary, marred and wounded ducks being carried and treated. By the amount of people injured, a battle or sneak attack must have just occurred.

“Over here!” she called, motioning a table that had just been evacuated. The sheets were still dirtied with the blood from a prior patient, but she quickly striped it and just tossed on a clean cloth.

Wildwing weaved through the mass of people, then laid his brother with the utmost care onto the table. Arm hanging limply off the side, breathing still laborious and sluggishly, the teen appeared on the verge of death. Wildwing’s breath caught in his throat, and he failed to stop his hands from shaking as he saw blood trickle from Nosedive’s beak.

You can’t die on me, the older brother pleaded earnestly, whisking the muddy strands of Nosedive’s hair on his forehead tenderly. You promised.

The medic was all ready in action, quickly covering the boy’s beak with an oxygen mask and peeling back the dressings to look at the wound. “This is Flashblade’s son, right?” she asked stoically.

Wildwing nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” she informed, equally as indifferent, “and this isn’t an ordinary lance. Did one of the Saurians say something before he was impaled?” she spoke as she grabbed more towels and pressed them against the teen’s side.

“Y—Yeah.” Closing his eyes, Wildwing ran a hand over his forehead, straining to remember just what the Saurian had said.

Canard took over for the distraught older brother, sputtering phrases here and there. The medic’s head perked up at a specific line.

“Did you say, ‘Bloodless’?”

“Yeah,” Canard answered hesitantly.

Cursing under her breath, she shot a look to a nurse walking through the crowded aisle, her shirt tainted as well, her face shocked at the urgent command, “You! Get me General Flashblade! Now!”

“What’s wrong?” Wildwing asked fervently, as soon as the nurse dashed off.

“It’s a blood spell,” the medic told them instantly. She examined the lance once more before shaking her head. “Shit! We’re going to have to get this surgically removed! Where’s that damn general?”

“A blood spell?” Canard repeated.

The medic rolled her eyes at their ignorance before balancing on her tippy-toes and peering over the heads in the infirmary. “A blood spell, you know? Only a blood relative can give blood after being Enchanted like that. It’s the way the Saurians kill our morale. Enchant those who don’t have family members close by, then they bleed to death, and it practically kills the people around them, too, since they’re helpless to do anything.” She scowled loudly. “Where’s that general! I need to get this kid into surgery yesterday!”

A wave of relief flooded Wildwing, almost causing his knees to buckle. If he had been anywhere else…He immediately switched to his street clothes and tore off his jacket. “I’ll give blood.”

The medic eyed him skeptically. “General Flashblade only has one son.”

The glare Wildwing sent her actually made her flinch. “General Flashblade adopted him.” He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. “I’m the kid’s brother.”

“Well, then,” she nodded to him, a small smile gracing her beak for the first time since they had arrived, “let’s do it. Nurse! I need a room. STAT!”

*^*^*

Nosedive groaned, his side burning with a linger pain. He didn’t know when it started, but he was sure he was aware of it when regaining consciousness. He writhed in his bed, but stopped suddenly when a sharp pain shot through his side. A weight applied pressure to the burning area, a heavy bag of some sorts. Without opening his eyes, he moved his hand slowly up to feel the—

A hand caught his, squeezing it tightly. “Come on, now, son. Open your eyes,” a fond voice encouraged.

Nosedive protested, his head throbbing something fierce. A force, which he was positive had to be the entire atmosphere of Puckworld, pressed down upon his skull. The very last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes.

“I know you’re stubborn, and you don’t like to listen to me,” the voice continued, this time present with edginess in its tone, “but I really need you to open your eyes.”

No, he just wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. He was so tired. Opening his eyes was the farthest action from his mind.

“Nosedive, open your damn eyes!”

The teenager groaned, and painstakingly slowly, he cracked open his lids. They were so heavy. He never remembered having this much hassle to blink before. The room was dark, thank the Stars, and he barely could make out the dark brown mallard sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching his hand. The older duck seemed to blend into the shadows.

“You scared us there for a minute, son,” Dad Flashblade alerted the teen, a soft smile upon his beak.

“W—wha…happened?” Nosedive managed to stay, though it was so low he could hardly hear it.

A flicker of anguish flashed over Harper’s face. “Seems a Saurian liked using you for a pin cushion—and as Sleeping Beauty.”

“Huh?” Nosedive asked. A wave of dizziness overtook his head, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t articulate complete sentences.

“Son, there’s no easy way to say this,” Harper hesitated for just a moment. Smoothing back his son’s hair, he sighed. “The mage…he put a spell on you. You’re Enchanted now.”

Nosedive’s eyes fluttered wide open before he sunk back into his pillows. Enchanted? But they were discriminated against, ripped from their families, thrown into isolation so as not to infect the rest of the—

“That’s not going to happen to you,” Dad Flashblade reassured his son, as if he knew exactly what Nosedive was thinking. “You know I don’t run my cell that way.”

“…H—How?” he croaked.

“The spell that bastard lizard cast wasn’t anything life threatening…yet. You can only receive blood from a blood relative; that’s all.”

“…But…Dad…I don’t have any…” the teen struggled to say, his voice hoarse.

“That’s not true, and you know it.” The general ducked his head for a moment, and Nosedive awaited an answer, watching the emotions and the thought-processes of his father reeling uncontrolled in his eyes. When Harper finally leveled Nosedive with a glower, he drawled, “Now, you have to keep this Enchantment under raps, okay? You can’t tell anyone, just in case of traitors or Saurian attacks. We don’t want them using it against you. Only five people know about it, and I want to keep it that way.”

“But…Dad—” He was cut off instantly.

“Besides me, Dr. Fowler, Canard, you, and your brother, no one else knows.”

Nosedive’s mind whirled. It couldn’t be…after all these years. “My…brother?” he gasped weakly.

A shadow cast over Nosedive as the only light in the room, supplied by the hallway, was covered suddenly by someone standing in the doorway.

“Hey, kiddo,” a familiar voice sounded, soft so as not alarm the teen. The person sauntered closer in a soft, reserved stride.

Nosedive didn’t need to watch as the drake came closer; he knew who it is was already. Part of him knew it all along. Wildwing, sans battle gear, dressed in a comfortable shirt and jeans, neared with a fond smile, a carton of orange juice in his hands.

“You’re supposed to be resting, Wildwing,” Harper chastised the younger drake, to which Wildwing shook his head.

“I told you I wanted to check in on Nosedive,” he said briskly. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Harper shook his head dejectedly. “Well, you certainly share similar qualities with your brother. Neither of you listen to a word I say.” With a deep sigh, the brown-feathered duck rose from the bed. “I’ll leave you two alone. You probably have some things to talk about.” He smiled down at his son and squeezed the boy’s hand. “I’ll be back later.”

The teen smiled dimly and watched his father leave before setting his eyes on the duck to his right. Finishing his orange juice carton, Wildwing placed it on the bedside table and took a seat on the edge of Nosedive’s bed.

“So…”

Nosedive nodded. “So…” His voice cracked hoarsely. “Why…didn’t you *Gasp!* tell me?”

“To be honest with you,” Wildwing shrugged, “I was afraid.” He looked away, shaking his head in remorse. “I…I couldn’t. I’m Marked, kiddo, and Dragaunus isn’t fond of my group. He’ll get us using any methods, including taking the ones we love.” He whisked Nosedive’s bangs again playfully, smiling down warmly at the younger mallard. “Like you.”

Nosedive, admittedly, liked the sound of that. “But how…*Cough!*”

“—did I know?” Wildwing finished. He reached behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out a piece of paper, wrinkled from continuous folding and overuse, dulled to a light gray.

Nosedive gasped at the headline, “Army captain, wife, two sons, slain in house fire…” Staring mesmerized at it for a moment, he finally noticed the shininess of the paper. He titled his head to the side. “I never…*Gasp!*…laminated…mine.”

“No, you burned yours,” Wildwing chuckled before refolding the paper and sticking it back in his pocket. “I laminated mine.”

Nosedive laid back on his pillow, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak.

“Look, uh,” Wildwing fidgeted with Nosedive’s hair again before spouting, “it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, okay? I just…I didn’t want to lose you again.” As he spoke, tears welled up in his eyes. “I mean, I’ve spent the last fifteen years looking for you, and now that you’re here, I—I just don’t want to watch you disappear. It was fine as long as it was just Canard and me, but now…” He shrugged absently. “I can’t lose you, kiddo. I can’t.”

Nosedive smiled in return, tears shimmering in his own eyes. “Why are…*Gasp!* telling me *Cough!* now?”

“You seem to want to stick around me, and it looks like there’s no getting rid of you, so…” Wildwing shrugged, eyesight drifting to the boy’s side. “You might as well get to know me.”

Nosedive smirked tiredly.

“Well, that and now you can only get my blood, so you need to know.”

“Oh…”

With a deep breath, Wildwing stuck his hand into his front pocket and aimed a harsh glare at Nosedive. “You have to promise me something, okay? Before I can give you this, you have to promise.”

“…What?”

Pulling out his hand, Wildwing opened his palm flat, revealing a silver necklace—a silver mask. The H.O.C.-Key

“Drake DuCaine gave it his little brother. I might as well give it to mine,” Wildwing said softly, as he gently lifted Nosedive’s head and slipped the necklace down his neck. Its lavaliere sparkled gold as it lay upon his chest before settling into its normal silver.

“You have to promise me you won’t die,” Wildwing suddenly insisted. “You have to promise me.”

“I…thought you said *Gasp!* there was no getting *Gasp!* rid of me?”

“You never know, and I need to know.”

Nosedive coughed violently, prompting Wildwing’s heart to skip a beat. “Are you always this *gasp* nagging?”

“Only when it comes to my baby brother.”

Smiling gently, Nosedive breathed, “I promise.”

Wildwing ruffled the boy’s hair and stood. “Good to know, little brother. Now, get some sleep. You’re going to need your energy when the Saurians attack.”

“Wildwing,” Nosedive called faintly as his brother turned to leave.

Turning back, Wildwing asked fondly, “Yeah, kiddo?”

“Could you stay…at least until I…*Gasp!* fall asleep?”

Wildwing grinned. “Sure, baby bro. No prob.”

As Nosedive drifted off to sleep, the coldness of the necklace about his feathers, the security of Wildwing’s hand holding his, the rhythmic breathing of his brother’s chest and reassuring weight next to his side, he barely heard, “Nosedive?”

“Hmmm?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Wha-huh?” mumbled the exhausted teen.

“I’m twenty-three.”

It was then, as unconsciousness reclaimed him, Nosedive realized—

Someday had come.

THE END