Mira realized something was wrong when she wasn't on edge.
No pressure behind her eyes. No itch between her shoulders urging her to stay alert. No mental checklist running in the background, counting exits and contingencies and everyone else's positions.
Just… calm.
She stood in the middle of a wide, sunlit square. Stone beneath her boots, warm and solid. The city center—but not the broken, hollow version they'd been searching through. This one felt alive. People moved through the space easily, talking and laughing, calling to one another by name.
Someone brushed past her shoulder.
They didn't flinch.
They didn't apologize awkwardly and hurry away like she was something fragile or sharp-edged.
They smiled. "Sorry—hey, Mira."
Her breath hitched.
"…You know me?"
The woman laughed softly, like that was a strange question. "Of course I do."
Mira turned slowly, heart beginning to pound. Faces met her gaze—familiar ones. Not just from the team. Neighbors. Shopkeepers. People she vaguely remembered from passing interactions, now clear and distinct.
Every one of them looked at her like she belonged.
She swallowed. "Where… where are the others?"
"They're fine," a voice said behind her.
She turned.
Yuwon stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way she'd almost forgotten he could be. Theo leaned against a fountain nearby, chatting easily with Silva, who—impossibly—was smiling.
Not the small, restrained version.
A real one.
"We were just waiting for you," Theo said, grinning. "You're always the last one to stop overthinking."
Mira opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
This wasn't right. She knew it wasn't. But the longer she looked, the harder it became to remember why.
"You don't have to stand on the edges here," Silva said, meeting her eyes. "You don't have to hover, or compensate, or prove your worth through usefulness."
Mira felt something tighten painfully in her chest.
"I—I pull my weight," she said automatically.
Silva stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was warm. Solid. Certain. "You already have," she replied. "And you always will. Because we want you here. Not because we need a role filled."
The square seemed to lean inward, sound softening, colors growing richer. Mira became acutely aware of how tired she was—how long she'd been measuring herself against everyone else, making sure she wasn't lagging behind, wasn't dead weight, wasn't the first one to be left behind if something went wrong.
Here, no one was looking past her.
They were looking at her.
"You don't get replaced here," Yuwon said quietly. "You don't fade into the background."
Theo nodded. "You stay."
The words settled deep, warm and heavy, like a blanket pulled over her shoulders.
Stay.
Mira exhaled, a long breath she didn't remember holding.
Maybe… this was what it felt like to stop bracing for the moment people realized they didn't actually need her.
She took a step forward.
The world responded immediately—closer, brighter, welcoming. The noise of the city softened into a steady, reassuring rhythm, like a heartbeat that matched her own.
There was no mission here.
No tunnel.
No core.
Just a place where she mattered without trying.
Mira's shoulders relaxed.
Just a little.
And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe that staying might not be a mistake.
Mira didn't notice when she sat down.
One moment she was standing in the square, the next she was perched on the edge of the fountain beside Theo, the stone pleasantly warm beneath her palms. Someone pressed a cup into her hand. Ceramic, faintly chipped, familiar in the way things only ever were in dreams.
Tea. Sweet and warm.
She smiled before she could stop herself.
It felt… good. Embarrassingly good. Her shoulders loosened, spine finally uncoiling from its habitual tension. The constant hum beneath her skin— the need to watch, to listen, to anticipate, dimmed to a distant murmur.
'This was what people meant, wasn't it?'
'When they talked about peace.'
Theo laughed at something Silva said, the sound easy and unforced. Yuwon leaned back against the fountain, eyes half-lidded, like he trusted the world not to lunge at him the second he looked away.
They weren't guarding each other's blind spots.
They weren't counting breaths.
No one was bleeding. No alarms were ringing. No weight pressed on Mira's chest demanding she be useful.
She took a sip of the tea.
Warmth spread through her fingers, up her arms, settling behind her ribs. Her smile softened, turning real.
"I could get used to this," she murmured.
Silva glanced at her, that same gentle smile never leaving her face. "You don't have to get used to it," she said. "You're already home."
Home.
The word echoed, pleasant and heavy.
Mira let her gaze drift across the square again. People passed by, waving, calling her name. Someone left a basket of bread on the fountain's edge with a cheerful, "For later." No expectations attached. No ledger being kept.
She wasn't a tool here.
She wasn't a backup plan.
She was… enough.
Her fingers curled around the cup.
Something tugged at the back of her mind. Soft. Almost apologetic.
She frowned faintly.
"Hey," she said slowly. "Has anyone else noticed how quiet it is?"
Theo snorted. "You call this quiet?"
"No," she said, searching for the right words. "I mean—quiet inside."
Yuwon tilted his head, studying her. "Isn't that the point?"
Maybe. Yes. That was the point.
So why did it feel like something had been turned down too far?
Mira took another sip, hoping the warmth would drown out the thought. It didn't. Instead, the tea tasted… flatter. Still sweet, but less vivid, like a memory of sweetness rather than the thing itself.
Her gaze slid to the people in the square again.
They were smiling.
All of them.
All the time.
No arguments. No sharp edges. No one looked tired, or irritated, or distracted. Conversations looped pleasantly, never straying into uncomfortable territory, never ending—just repeating in slightly different shapes.
Theo laughed again.
The same laugh.
Exactly the same.
Mira's smile faltered.
She set the cup down slowly. "Theo?"
"Yeah?"
"You already told that joke."
He blinked. Just once. Then smiled wider. "Did I?"
"Yes," she said. Her pulse began to quicken. "Word for word."
Silva rose smoothly to her feet. "Does it matter?"
The question landed wrong.
Mira stood as well, the warmth slipping just enough for cold to seep in around the edges. She looked down at her hands.
They weren't shaking.
They should have been.
"I don't get tired here," she said quietly. "I don't get annoyed. I don't even get bored."
Yuwon frowned, concern creasing his brow. "Mira—"
"That's not me," she snapped, sharper than she intended.
The square seemed to dim, just a fraction. The smiles didn't fade, but they strained, stretched a little too wide.
She took a step back.
The ground resisted, like wet sand.
"You want me to stay," she whispered, realization blooming cold and sharp in her chest. "Not because you care. Because I fit."
The warmth surged, trying to smother the thought. Stay. You're safe. You're wanted.
Mira clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms.
"No," she breathed. "I don't want a place where I don't have to choose."
The smiles around her flickered.
The square trembled.
And for the first time since arriving, Mira leaned into the discomfort—into the doubt—grabbing onto it like a lifeline as she began to fight her way back.