Chapter Text
Pyrrhic is how Leo would describe it, when he learned of what happened. Pyrrhic is how it felt to survive the fall of a city and the destruction of its citizens. Pyrrhic is how it is when you are finally right about something, only to lose everything else in the process.
Succeeding and being a winner are two very different things.
—
Parrot, as he’s come to learn over these past few weeks, is a reserved type of person.
He thinks more than he speaks. When invited to unwind in the inner courtyard with the BAT members, he makes no conversation. He only talks when directly addressed, and glances elsewhere the rest of the time until he finds a valid reason to excuse himself. It’s sad. Leo knows he’s sad, but there’s no appropriate time to bring it up because it’s always Parrot being assigned work, Leo having to assign said work, Parrot running from the canteen or pretending not to be in his suite on the rare days Leo doesn’t have anything to do, and then Leo having more work again—keeping them apart from each other like it’s some twisted will of the unconscious universe. It works out for one of them, but only one. For the other it’s torture.
“Time heals,” Nufuli says one evening while keeping Leo company in the meeting room. “It takes a while, but it happens.”
Leo shakes his head. “But Parrot’s disposition is different,” he says. “He’s quiet and thoughtful, but headstrong at the same time. What if he spirals?”
“He already is,” Jumper interjects, wiping notes off the whiteboard.
“Reassuring.”
Nufuli nods. He gets up to assist her with the words too high to reach, continuing as he does. “She might be right. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with you, but the guy does sprint like a rabbit whenever he sees you enter the room.”
“I think you could’ve said that without the unneeded clarification,” Leo grumbles.
“Maybe you’re coming off too strong,” says Jumper. “I know you’re just trying to make him feel welcome, but it could be the fact that you’re mothering him that makes him want to avoid you.”
Leo scoffs. “What are you talking about? I don’t mother anybody.”
Nufuli and Jumper exchange a look. Then, in unison, they turn to Leo.
“You insisted I not write for an entire week after we exploded the airlock,” Jumper says.
“You used your arm to shield against shrapnel. I didn’t want you agitating the wound,” Leo argues.
“There was no wound.”
Nufuli takes the baton. “What kind of grown man enters my suite every night to personally make sure I go to bed on time?”
“You trained six people one-on-one for an entire month prior, and after that, you’d wake up with bags beneath your eyes and a tendency to drop your face into your bowl at breakfast. Don’t come crying to me when you’re too tired to function properly.”
“I had caffeine!”
“That’s not supposed to replace sleep!”
Jumper throws a finger in his direction, all cartoon-y style. “What about the time Derap couldn’t figure out his tie, so you sat down and taught him how to do it?”
Leo was about to stand. “I knew that if I didn’t teach him how to do it, he’d end up asking me more, and we’d have to do it all over again! Have you heard of that one quote? Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, but teach him how to fish and he’ll eat forever.”
“See?” Nufuli turns to Jumper, who nods primly and takes the eraser, placing it on a nearby rack. “Mothering, from the self-unawareness to the proverb. Face it, Leo, you’re acting like such a parent right now.”
Leo opens his mouth to defend himself, but soon realizes the fair defeat and promptly succumbs. He sits back down. “Fine. Maybe I am. But it’s for a good reason, I mean, have you seen Parrot? The kid insists on being alone. In what world is that a good thing?”
He raps his fingertips against the desk, recalling that moment on the cliff where Parrot had admitted he’d recently lost two of his closest friends both to the same source. Yet, when they’d returned to BAT Headquarters, he presented himself fine and capable of work, speaking in a straight, respectful tone, albeit a bit clipped. But could Leo have done that? If the people in this room with him right now were both to die, could he still function? How much of his soul is theirs? How much of Parrot’s soul is, or was, in his friends?
“He confuses me,” Leo admits, burying his face in his hands.
Then a warm hand pats his back, and he looks up to find Jumper smiling down on him. “But you’re trying. That’s really all that matters.”
“Well,” Nufuli says, twirling a finger around the air. “He could try a little differently.”
Jumper glares at him, while Leo quietly groans and sinks further down his seat. “Not helpful.”
Nufuli raises his palms in mock surrender. “Really, though! If this approach of… emotional confrontation, for lack of a better word, isn’t getting to him, maybe something else would work better. Like hanging out. Parrot might be a hanging out type of guy.”
“What would we talk about?” Leo asks, lifting his head. Jumper removes her hand and sits down beside him, equally curious as to what ideas Nufuli will offer.
“Anything. Ask him how his work is doing. What kind of food he’d want to see at the canteen; that would probably make him feel more comfortable being in the place too. Heck, ask if he slept well, and make some coffee if he didn’t.”
“That’s so…” Leo begins. But then he recalls the week prior, when he and Parrot went on a mission to follow Itz’ map icon. The only reason Parrot let him come was because he was so casually insistent on tagging along, speaking as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Maybe, Leo thinks, that’s what the kid needs. A sense of normalcy. An anchor, a central point. A—
Nufuli yawns loudly. He pats the meeting table, muttering a half-coherent goodnight, though it sounds more like a jumble of sounds instead of any actual words. After the door closes behind him, Jumper takes her leave as well.
“Although I acknowledge that Parrot’s situation is different,” she says, lingering in the doorway, “I still believe he’ll open up eventually.”
“Do you really think I can do this?”
“Of course. You’re our team leader, after all.”
Leo chuckles. “And that’s enough proof of credentials for me to be his makeshift therapist?”
“Insecure all of a sudden?” She closes her eyes, huffing a quiet laugh. “Not a therapist, Leo. Just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less—that’s all you’re supposed to be.”
—
Leo remembers the last time he felt lonely.
As the leader of BAT, he mainly oversees the overseers, but contrary to stereotypical belief, remains deeply in touch with the work each individual does. It’s important to build camaraderie in an organization like this and a world like the one outside. He can’t just be a figurehead, only holding his position for show. He had to be worthy of the title, and thus, not having been born with skills required for such a role, he had to work for it, committing to memory what to do and what not to do, as well as how to do it.
It’s a lot of work.
Leo… likes that.
‘Likes.’
Derap especially tries to pry him away from the meeting room whenever possible, but it’s always in vain.
Don’t get him wrong, Leo wants to get up and make his team happy by being with them, but he can’t. It’s not that work is his number one priority—though maybe, it is—but it has its name for a reason. It’s something to be attended to, to finish. As much as he wishes otherwise, there is no automation for deciding which member of BAT best fits the skill sets required for a certain mission. It takes a human to decide such things, and Leo is that human. He is the one in charge. He is the one these things fall to, and he is the one whose office light stays on well into the night. And yeah, no matter how much he tries to defend himself from accusation, he has to admit it gets lonely. Twirling his pen and watching the candle dance around shadows only does so much serving as a form of makeshift company.
Jumper and Nufuli are sound asleep by now. All of the BAT members, too.
Well, with Itz out of the way, it’s one less thing for them to concern themselves with. But maybe, however unlikely it is, it might be a good idea to install some precautions for the next time an intruder arrives and sets mining fatigue on the perimeters just to chase one person down…
Leo can’t imagine the terror Parrot must’ve experienced that day. Finding yourself alone in a place that should otherwise be brimming with activity is definitely scary, especially considering his recent experiences with loss. A nightmare come to life. How long he’s been running, Leo wonders. At any point, did he consider BAT Headquarters safe, only for that thought to be violently betrayed? Is Leo doing anything to make him feel safe?
Nufuli’s words resurface, bobbing above the rest of his thoughts. Maybe approaching this differently is better. Take things more casually… He notes that down on a loose page and sets it aside. There’s another pile of reports that need his attention, many of them pending ever since Parrot’s arrival three weeks ago. He picks up the one on top and prepares himself for another hour of duty. So after clicking his pen, Leo sighs deep, and begins.
He wades into a flow state, falling into the rhythm of fact checking and cross-referencing. Thanks to his naturally good memory—Nufuli’s whining words as he failed to recall something important, not his own—the work is hard, but not difficult: an important distinction.
Huh, he muses, hand on autopilot as it writes a comment on the margin of a page. That’s an eloquent thought.
Then something creaks ahead of him.
His eyes snap to the door and his mind reminds him of a spare dagger always kept in the sheath on his belt.
There’s a presence in the hall, light and cautious. Nobody should be awake at this hour. Nufuli does rounds every night, and he’d immediately tell Leo if anything even felt the slightest bit off. So now, Leo remembers Itz, and then Parrot, and for a moment that lingers like eyes on the back of his head, he feels deja vu for an experience he didn’t go through. Is the terror he feels right now real, or is it actually empathy?
Without alerting them of his presence, and without taking his eyes off the door, he reaches down for the dagger, unsheathing it and approaching the door like a breeze graces against stone; silent and wordless. He stands on the hinge side, ready to use the pivot of the door as an advantage of coverage, but then—
“…Leo?”
Parrot.
And after opening the door, there he stands, gaze steeled to meet Leo’s, before it drops and notices the blade in his hand.
“Sorry.” Leo puts it away on a nearby shelf. He’s quick to realize that he shouldn’t just say he’s a shoulder to lean on, but to prove it too. Physically disarming himself would be the best first step. Though, hold on. “Why are you—Did something happen?”
Play it cool, Leo.
Before he gets a chance to amend his concern, Parrot opens his mouth to speak. Realizing this, Leo immediately shuts up, and listens intently—perhaps nodding a bit too fast.
“Uh,” Parrot hesitates, turning on his heel. “No.” He hesitates. “It’s nothing, really. I’ll just leave.”
Get it together!
“What—Wait, it’s fine.” A blur of ideas and opinions only half his own rush through his head; should he let Parrot decide for himself what he wants to do, or does he need a little push? Talk about something else or pry a little out? Shutting his brain off for once in his life, Leo decides to go with his gut feeling, stepping aside to allow entry. “Here, come in. Want to keep me company?”
“Well—”
“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
Parrot stares at him. Leo thinks he’s said the wrong thing—darn!—but then, honest-to-the-stars surprisingly, Parrot purses his lips and shrugs, ducking as he passes as if entering Leo’s office is some kind of grand privilege.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Leo says, albeit stumbling over his words. He didn’t expect to get this far. He didn’t expect Parrot to actually entertain him, but again, speaking of Parrot… Why is he awake? A nightmare, maybe? Probably. Leo wouldn’t be surprised.
He thinks it over more as Parrot settles into a chair at one end of the long table, hands uncharacteristically folded in his lap. Usually, they’re on the armrests or atop the table, fingers interwoven, but tonight appears to have taken a different type of toll on his normal demeanor. He’s more reserved now, shallow-footed. The sure-minded, bold Parrot that had defied Leo the day after Itz escaped their trap is nowhere to be seen. The only thing in its place is someone quiet, not out of choice, but out of need.
“You like reading?”
Blinking rapidly, Parrot glances at him. “I’m sorry?”
Not having moved from the entrance, Leo gestures to the shelf again. “Books,” he explains. “We have a lot of them. What genres do you like?”
“Oh,” Parrot says. He looks down again, thinking it over, or maybe preparing to relate a memory Leo knows he doesn’t actually have. It’s unlikely there’s been any time for him to read in the last who knows how long. “I don’t know. Anything, I guess.”
It’s… not much to work with, but Leo lets it go. Parrot is the definition of uncertainty right now. He can’t be forced to make a definitive decision out of the blue like this; it wouldn’t be kind. So, after browsing the titles collecting dust and choosing one he believes is suitable for both the personality he’s about to give it to as well as their circumstances, Leo hands Parrot a brown book, explaining what it is as he finds his own seat at the other end of the table and prepares to tackle the rest of the reports.
“It’s a classic story about a guy and his quest to save the world. My copy is a relic if the spine is any proof, and sure, it’s cliche, but it’s fun.”
Parrot huffs. “What am I, five?”
“Maybe,” Leo says, and catches the mildly incredulous look sent his way. “Still got a kid inside of you though, somewhere.”
“…Cringe.”
He picks up his pen and skims the report to remember where he left off. “Yet true.”
Parrot groans. “Maybe, but I’m not that young, you know.”
For a moment, Leo wants to banter and tell Parrot that he isn’t exactly old either, but decides not to. “Also true,” he replies simply. “But hey, just give it a try, yeah? And if you end up not liking it, then you don’t have to keep reading.”
The candle hisses, reminding Leo of how dangerously close it is to burning out. He frowns, realizing he’s going to need to replace it if he’s going to keep working tonight, and judging by how many papers still need to be reviewed, he needs to do that sooner rather than later. There should be a box of candles in one of the storage rooms, that is, if someone didn’t reorganize it for the third time this month. Should he talk to Nufuli about that?
Parrot slouches in his seat, using one hand to leaf through the book he’s placed on the table. He doesn’t acknowledge that Leo’s gotten up and is walking toward the door, but the one thing he does say is, “Why is it so thick?”
Moments away from leaving the room, Leo chuckles.
“Just you wait. That’s only the first volume.”
“Seriously…?”
But a short while later, when he returns with candles tucked under his arm and two cups of cozy tea from the canteen in hand, he finds Parrot with his cheek resting against his palm, peacefully making his way through the prologue.