Archive of Our Own

It’s quiet.

This is rare, in the hero business. Phil and Kristin are both so frequently busy, and they don’t often have time to just… rest. Like this.

“Good morning.”

Phil hums, turning his head sideways to smile at his fiancee. “Morning,” he murmurs.

She rests her head on his shoulder. In the dimness, the quiet, Phil thinks she looks like an angel. Dark hair falling half over her face, deep brown eyes staring straight into his soul.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, before he can stop himself.

Kristin giggles, ducking her head into his shoulder. “Flatterer,” she says, lightly teasing. “We have to work in a couple hours, c’mon, let’s get breakfast-”

“Nooooo.” Phil pulls the blankets up over their heads, wrapping his arm tighter around her waist. “We have time…”

“Later.” She kisses him. “Tonight.”

“After patrol, when we’re both tired and sore and spent six hours in our hero costumes…”

“Yes.” Kristin kisses him again, then squirms away, kicking the blankets off. “Breakfast.”

Reluctantly, Phil gets up and starts changing, pulling on yesterday’s t-shirt and a clean pair of sweatpants. Just for now, because they do have to work later. They’re going to have to put on their costumes in a few hours and go to work.

This is good enough for the morning. For making breakfast together; later, washing the dishes together.

Phil likes cooking with Kristin. He likes doing everything with Kristin- it’s why he proposed, after all.

Even if ‘cooking together’ usually turns into them tripping over each other, laughing and making messes and spending a solid two minutes kissing over the coffeepot. It’s domestic and happy and quiet and everything Phil ever wanted.

Patrol comes all too soon.

They never get sent out together, because of their relationship, so Phil kisses Kristin goodbye and takes off.

His route is quiet today. It isn’t always- usually he at least has to stop a petty criminal or two- but it’s not all that odd.

Which is why he isn’t expecting the comms call.

“Anyone who can respond, this is Chrysalis, requesting backup in the town square-”

The call cuts abruptly, Kristin’s voice going silent. Phil wheels sharply, wings aching as he flies harder. He can’t breathe, he can’t- he has to get to her, he needs to get to her, she’s in danger out there-

Even from half a mile out, he can see the destruction.

Rubble piled high where a parking garage used to be. A bank crumbling in a cloud of dust. People screaming, scattering.

He doesn’t recognize the person standing atop the destroyed building, arms spread wide, a manic grin on their face becoming visible as Phil’s boots thud on the ground as he lands.

He assesses the situation quickly, as they are all trained to. The man has no mask. Body armor of some kind, visible but not amateurish in construction.

Clearly his power must be good, if he’s not hiding. If he’s not afraid to show his face.

Sam and Clara and Bad are there, then, too. Phil leaps into the fight with them, no matter how badly he wants to find Kristin- his job right now is to do his job, not to look for her. He needs to- he has to stay on task, he has to keep working, he has to-

It’s not till it’s over, till the newest villain is escaping with a laugh on his lips and a promise to return, that Phil can think about her.

Sam is bleeding from a gash in his face under his cracked mask, but he kneels on the pile of rubble, one hand outstretched as he presumably concentrates, reaching out with his power.

And then he’s looking up, directly at Phil, and he just knows.

“I’m reading her comms, but the signal is- it’s weak.” Sam pauses. “She’s under the rubble.”

Phil’s knees go weak. Bad comes up beside him, one hand under his elbow.

“Sit down,” he says. “I’ll start digging, okay, Corvus? We’ll get to her. We’ll find her.”

Phil sinks down on a chunk of rock and tries to just- just hold it together. Just a little longer. He has to. He has to be strong. For her.

Oh, god, Kristin- she’s under there, she might be-

No. Phil can’t believe that because if he starts to believe that then there’s nothing left.

He waits. There’s nothing else to do.

Time doesn’t pass. Bad is still digging but Phil isn’t breathing. He can’t move. He can’t move. There’s nothing.

Suddenly, a soft crackle comes over the comms. Phil doesn’t think anything of it until-

“H-” Coughing. “Help,” Kristin’s voice whispers weakly.

“Kr- Chrysalis,” Phil gasps. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Not… not right now.” She coughs again, still weak and raspy. “M’power… still working.”

“Okay. We’re coming, Daemon is digging down to you, just- just hold on. Just hold on.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Do- do you have oxygen?” Phil doesn’t think he does. “Can you breathe?”

“D- d’no.”

“Okay. Just- just don’t talk, okay, we’re coming. They’re gonna get to you, just stay with me, honey-”

He knows the comms line is open to the whole group, he knows he’ll probably face consequences for the slip, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He rambles while Bad shifts rubble with his power, while Clara and a few of the more ‘minor’ heroes hurry off in pursuit of Schlatt. Sam stays, guiding Bad towards where Kristin is buried.

“Phil?”

The soft whisper knocks the breath out of him. They’re not supposed to use names over the comms, and Kristin knows that, so-

“I’m here. Just- just save your breath, we’re coming-”

“I… can’ hold on much longer,” she whispers. “M’sorry.”

“No.” His heart seizes in his chest. “No, you- you have to stay strong, they’re coming, B- Daemon is going to get to you. Just- just keep holding on, please-”

“I can’t. I’m s… so tired.”

“Please. Please, don’t. Just- just hold on, stay strong, they’re coming.”

“L… love you…”

“Don’t,” he begs. He can’t breathe. He can’t see, eyes blurred by tears. He can’t hear anything except those soft, rasping breaths. “Please, please, don’t.”

“I think I see her!” Bad yells.

“I love you,” she repeats. “M’sorry. I love you.”

“No,” Phil all but sobs. “No, please, please, don’t leave me, don’t do this-”

He hears one last exhale. Sam calling Chrysalis’ name, getting more desperate each time. Bad yelling I see her, I see her, I’m almost there.

A sickening crunch.

Phil doesn’t move. He can’t move.

Nothing. There’s- nothing.

Nothing, until the medevac helicopter is landing and people are scrambling down the pit Bad dug and coming back with a stretcher, with Kristin on a stretcher, her black suit covered in dust and bits of rubble. She’s not moving. She isn’t moving. Phil doesn’t even think she’s breathing- oh, god, is she not breathing? Is she-

“Corvus.” A hand grips his elbow, guiding him upright. He can’t fight it- he can barely move at all. “Come on,” Sam murmurs, wrapping his arm around Phil’s waist and guiding him towards the copter. “Look, they’ve got her, they’re gonna get her back to base. She’s alive.”

“K-”

“No names,” Sam says, but he keeps pulling Phil over anyway. “Breathe. She’s alive. Just breathe.”

Sam pushes Phil down into a seat, buckles the safety belt when Phil still doesn’t move.

They’re working over her, pulling her mask off to shove a breathing tube down her throat and ripping up her suit to start CPR and Phil can’t breathe. Kristin isn’t moving. She’s not moving. He can’t breathe. She’s not- she can’t be. She can’t be-

Back at the Tower, they don’t let him go with her into the operating room. Sam leads Phil away, to the locker rooms. Helps him change when Phil’s hands shake too much to manage the buckles and zippers.

If she dies-

Sam stays. Sam keeps talking to him, even though Phil can barely understand what he’s saying. All he can process is that they’re sitting in the hall outside the operating room; that Kristin is in there, that she might be dying in there. Without him. Before they get a chance at their future.

They were going to do so much together. They were going to be happy- they were going to make a life, even in the middle of the chaos of hero work.

And then finally- after eternity passes twice- the doors open.

Phil stumbles to numb, tingling feet as a couple nurses wheel a gurney out. Kristin is pale- so, so pale- blood crusted in her hair, in sticky looking patches on her face. She still isn’t moving- one of the nurses is wheeling the ventilator that’s breathing for her- she’s heavily bandaged under the hospital gown.

Sam catches Phil’s arms as he tries to go after her. Ponk steps in front of him, moving to catch Phil’s gaze.

“Kristin,” he forces out, still trying to reach after her. “She- is she-”

“Breathe, Phil,” Ponk says. “Kristin is alive. She’s stable right now, they’re taking her to the ICU, but she’s alive.”

“How- how bad was it?” Phil asks. His throat aches from the force it takes to get words out.

“If she hadn’t held on as long as she did, if Bad hadn’t gotten to her as quickly as he did, it would’ve been a lot worse.” Ponk gestures to the chairs, and Sam guides Phil over to sit back down. “We were able to repair most of the internal damage. There doesn’t seem to be any head trauma, but we won’t know until she wakes up.”

“But- but she will wake up?” Phil’s chest hitches. “She- she has to, she can’t-”

Ponk hesitates. “We’re not making any promises,” he says. “But right now her prognosis is good. Kristin is strong, she has a good chance of pulling through this.”

“Can I see her?” Phil whispers. “Please?”

“In a little while. The nurses are going to get her settled in first.”

When they finally let Phil in, he’s gone from nearly hysterical to eerily calm.

Kristin looks a bit better now. The nurses must’ve cleaned her up a bit- there’s no more blood on her face or in her hair.

“Hi,” Phil breathes, taking her hand as he sits down in the chair pulled up beside her bed. “Hi, Kris, I’m here.”

There’s no response, none at all. Phil wasn’t expecting one, but it still hurts.

“Please hold on,” he whispers. “Please, honey, please wake up. Come back to me. I swear, I’ll give you anything you want- I’ll quit hero work, I’ll do anything you want, just please, please, wake up. Please be okay.”

The hours drag on. Someone- Sam, he thinks- comes and drags Phil away to rest. Stays with him when he goes back.

Kristin is so, so pale. Phil can barely breathe as he takes her hand again, hoping and pleading and praying.

“We had to take her back to surgery last night,” Ponk says quietly. “There was some internal bleeding we didn’t initially catch. We managed to get to it before there was any permanent damage done, but we’ve had to up her painkillers a bit to compensate. It’s affected her breathing a bit, so we may not be able to get her off the ventilator as soon as we’d hoped.”

Phil swallows harshly, staring at her. “But she- she’s gonna be okay? She’s holding on?”

“She is,” Ponk says. “We’re doing everything we can for her, Phil.”

~~~

Everything is… is so tiring, so heavy.

She blinks, searching for… for someone. Who… isn’t there.

“Hey,” a voice says, soothing and quiet. “Hey, there you are.”

She blinks again, the world coming into clearer focus. The person leaning over her has thick white curls, a familiar face-

Puffy, she tries to say. The word refuses to come, her voice making no sound. Something in her mouth stops her forming the shape of it.

“You’re okay,” Puffy says. “You were hurt, but Ponk’s been taking good care of you, you’re recovering.”

She doesn’t remember… what happened. Everything is so slow. So very, very slow.

“Phil’s been with you almost constantly,” Puffy says, and oh, that’s who she wants. Phil, where is he, she had to tell him… “He’ll be back in a few hours. And you should be off the ventilator soon, once Ponk’s happy with your breathing. Until then, just- just rest, okay?”

Warm hands are clasped around one of hers, familiarly callused. Kristin blinks, swimming up out of the heavy darkness.

Phil’s sleeping, she thinks, slumped over beside her. She smiles weakly, trying to squeeze his hand.

He wakes up in seconds, pulling her hand to his chest. “Hi,” he gasps. “Kristin, honey, hi.”

“Hi,” she murmurs, the word feeling slow. Slurring. “Y’look tired.”

“No- no, don’t do that.” Phil clasps her hand tighter, swiping one hand at his face. “Not after what you’ve been through- I’m fine, don’t do that, don’t worry about me.”

“’s my job.”

He shakes his head. “No, just- just think about yourself. Please, Kris, please don’t worry about me. You almost died.”

She thinks she knew that, recognizing the vague pains throughout her body and the slow heavy feeling she knows are caused by morphine. Remembering, through the confusion and the dark cloud, feeling her strength fading, her power failing.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Phil’s crying, tears dripping on her hand still clasped in his. “I was so scared, you almost died. T- tellin’ me you love me- And I couldn’t get to you. I couldn’t- I couldn’t help you.”

“M’okay now,” she murmurs, weakly squeezing his hand. “Phil, ‘m okay.”

“Not yet you’re not.” He kisses her fingers. “So just- just focus on recovering for now, okay?”

“Th’ new villain.” Kristin blinks at him. “Wh’appened?”

“That is also not something you should be thinking about.” Phil kisses her fingers again before putting her hand back down on the bed. “I’m gonna go find Ponk,” he murmurs. “See what the timeline is on- on recovery and rehab. Okay?”

Kristin hums, eyes closing for a few seconds. “M’kay.”

Phil lingers a minute longer, just looking at her. “You’re gonna be okay,” he says at last. “I promise. Everything- is going to be okay.”

Of course it will. They’re together, how could it not be?