Chapter 45 The Mission

Chapter 45 The Mission
Chapter 45:

Asher's POV

Five days. I'd been home five days and I still felt like a stranger wearing my own skin.

But a less alien stranger than before.

I stood in my room, staring at the clothes Mom had laid out. Normal clothes. Jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket. Human things for a human body.

Except I wasn't human. Not anymore. Maybe not ever again.

You're human enough, the First murmured. More human than you've been in years.

"That's not saying much."

It's saying everything.

I pulled on the jeans. They felt weird. Restrictive. For twelve years I'd worn nothing—existed as pure consciousness wrapped in cosmic energy. Actual fabric was strange.

A knock on my door.

"Come in," I called.

Dad entered, holding a phone. "The Primordials just contacted me. There's a situation."

My body tensed automatically. Combat-ready in seconds. "Where? How severe?"

"Not severe. Yet." He handed me the phone. "But unusual. They want you to investigate."

I took the phone. Read the message. Frowned.

"A dimensional anomaly in the human city?" I looked up. "That's three hours from here."

"Yes."

"Primordials can handle dimensional anomalies. Why do they need me?"

"Because this one's strange." Dad sat on my bed. "It's not getting worse. Not getting better. Just... existing. Stable but wrong. They can't figure out what's causing it."

I read the details again. The anomaly was small. Localized. No immediate danger. But persistent in a way that didn't make sense.

"They want me to go undercover," I said. "Investigate as a human, not a guardian."

"That's what they suggested."

I set down the phone. "Why?"

"Because obvious cosmic power might destabilize whatever's causing it. You need to be subtle. Human." Dad stood. "Think you can do that?"

Could I? I'd spent five days remembering how to eat breakfast like a normal person. Drink coffee. Hold conversations that didn't sound like mission reports. But going into the human world? Pretending to be one of them?

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Your mother thinks it might be good for you." Dad's voice was careful. "A mission that requires you to be human instead of god-like. Might help you remember what that feels like."

"Or it might end in disaster when I forget how to act normal and accidentally reveal myself."

"That's why I'm coming with you."

I looked up sharply. "What?"

"You think I'm letting you do this alone?" He smiled. "I'm your backup. Your handler. Your dad making sure you don't accidentally unmake reality because someone cuts you off in traffic."

Despite myself, I almost laughed. "I wouldn't unmake reality over traffic."

"You sure? You've been pretty volatile lately."

"I'm fine."

"You cried for six hours yesterday because you saw a child playing with a puppy."

"That was—" I stopped. "That wasn't crying. That was emotional processing."

"It was sobbing." Dad's voice was gentle. "Which is fine. Healthy, even. But it proves you're not exactly stable yet. So. I'm coming with you."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist I could handle a simple investigation alone.

But the truth was, I was terrified. Five days of being quasi-human at home was one thing. Going out into the real world? Interacting with actual people? Pretending to be normal?

"Okay," I said quietly. "You can come."

"Wasn't asking permission." He grinned. "Pack light. We leave in an hour."

\---

The drive to the city was strange. Dad drove like a normal person—obeying speed limits, stopping at red lights, following human rules.

I could have teleported us there in seconds. Could have bent space and arrived before we left.

Instead, we drove. Like regular people on a regular trip.

"You're doing the thing again," Dad said.

"What thing?"

"Calculating optimal travel efficiency. I can see it on your face."

I forced myself to stop. "Sorry. Hard habit to break."

"Try enjoying the drive instead." He gestured out the window. "Look. Trees. Sky. The world you've been protecting for twelve years. When's the last time you actually saw it instead of just monitoring it?"

I looked. Really looked.

The trees were green. Vibrant. Alive in a way I'd forgotten to notice. The sky was blue—not the cosmic void I'd grown accustomed to. Clouds drifted lazily like they had all the time in the world.

"It's beautiful," I said. Surprised by the observation.

"Yes. It is." Dad smiled. "Worth protecting, even if you can't save everyone."

The reminder stung. But less than it would have a week ago.

We drove in comfortable silence. I watched the world pass by. Normal. Peaceful. No rifts to seal. No realities collapsing. Just existence, doing its thing.

"Can I ask you something?" Dad's voice was careful.

"Okay."

"What's your plan? After we investigate this anomaly. After you finish recovering. What do you want?"

"I don't—" I stopped. Thought about it. "I don't know. I've never thought past the next crisis."

"Maybe you should."

"What's the point? My life is crisis management. There is no 'after.'"

"There could be." Dad glanced at me. "If you wanted. If you let yourself want things."

"I want to be better at my job."

"That's not wanting something. That's avoiding the question." He turned onto the highway. "Come on. Humor me. If you could have anything—any life, any future—what would it be?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

What did I want?

The answer came unbidden. Unwanted. Impossible.

"I want to be normal," I whispered. "Just for a while. I want to go to college. Make friends. Live somewhere that isn't the cosmic void. I want to eat pancakes every morning and complain about trivial things and not carry the weight of infinite realities on my shoulders."

Dad was quiet.

"And I want—" I stopped. Couldn't say it.

"Maya?" Dad's voice was gentle.

I nodded. Throat tight.

"You want her to know you exist. To remember you. To choose you even though you're cosmically damaged and emotionally unstable."

"Yes." The admission hurt. "I want the impossible. How pathetic is that?"

"Not pathetic." Dad reached over, squeezed my shoulder. "Human. You want human things. That's healthy."

"It's pointless. None of that can happen."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the Guardian. That's not compatible with normal life or college or—or her."

"Says who?"

"Says reality. Says duty. Says—"

"Says you." Dad's voice was firm. "You're the one who decided this has to be all or nothing. Guardian or human. Duty or desire. What if it could be both?"

"It can't."

"You don't know that. You've never tried." He merged into traffic. "Look, I'm not saying abandon your responsibilities. But maybe... maybe you could find balance. Do your duty and still have a life. Be the Guardian and still be Asher."

"I don't know how."

"Then learn. Starting with this mission." He smiled. "Consider it practice. Be human for a few days. See how it feels."

I looked out the window. Watched normal people in normal cars living normal lives.

Could I do that? Even temporarily?

You'll never know unless you try, the First said.

"Fine," I said. "I'll try."

"Good." Dad's smile widened. "First lesson: stop sitting like you have a steel rod for a spine. You're supposed to be a normal teenager, not a military officer."

I forced myself to slouch. It felt wrong.

"Better," Dad said. "Awkward, but better. We'll work on it."

\---

We arrived in the city as the sun set. Dad had booked us a hotel—nothing fancy, just a normal place normal people stayed.

"The anomaly is centered around the college district," he said, studying a map. "Specifically near a coffee shop called The Grind."

"A coffee shop?"

"Apparently." He looked up. "We'll scope it out tomorrow. Tonight, we rest. Eat dinner like normal humans. Maybe watch bad TV."

"I don't watch TV."

"You do now. It's part of being human." He tossed me a room key. "Unpack. Settle in. I'll order pizza."

"I don't eat pizza."

"You do now."

I went to my room. Small. Clean. Aggressively normal.

I sat on the bed. Felt the mattress give under my weight. When was the last time I'd sat on an actual bed in an actual room?

My phone buzzed. Mom.

How's the mission? You remembering to be human?

I smiled despite myself. Dad won't let me forget. He's making me watch TV and eat pizza.

Good. That's what fathers are for. Love you, baby. Stay safe.

Love you too.

I set down the phone. Stared at the ceiling.

Tomorrow I'd investigate the anomaly. Figure out what was causing dimensional instability in a human coffee shop. Simple mission. Straightforward.

So why did I feel like something was about to change?

Because something is, the First said. Something always does.

I closed my eyes. Tried to rest.

Tomorrow, I'd be human. Just for a little while.

And pray I remembered how before I accidentally revealed what I really was.