"AS SOMEONE WHO ALSO HAS A PHD IN SOMETHING THAT ISN'T CONVENTIONAL MEDICINE AND ALSO MOONLIGHTS AS A WEAPONS DESIGNER ASIDE FROM HIS DAY JOB, YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO ME MORE."

Nicky rolled his eyes as he stared at the disapproving face of Hank McCoy on the other side of his main computer screen, his chin propped up onto his hand.

"When was the last time you actually went to bed, not waking up in the pathetic hours of dark, and slept before sunrise?" the older man demanded, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Nicky raised his eyes up towards the ceiling, genuinely wondering for himself, but coming up empty. "How disappointed will you be if I told you I can't remember?"

Hank blinked. "How is this affecting your ability to do your day job?"

Nicky stifled a yawn. "Okay, I've gotten way better at this. Before, I threw a coffee mug thinking it would land onto a table, then yelled at the patient because I thought she was a football player. Nowadays, I catch myself."

Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go to sleep. Look, I haven't found anything new, the trace went cold and I couldn't pinpoint it."

"Maybe if I get into S.H.I.E.L.D. files I can find out something," he offered, and Hank snorted.

"And get branded a war criminal and terrorist, get sent away? And probably send all those goons after us and the Four? Would you do that to us?" the man demanded, starting out scathing, but ending genuinely afraid.

"Of course not," Nicky sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest, "But I just wanna know what you had found."

"They weren't coordinates that I can read," Hank sighed, picking up the well-read sheet of paper, "What do you think?"

"Space?" the younger man offered.

"What is it with you and space?" Hank scoffed.

"What is it with you disregarding the fact that the Four have literally gone into space and are friends with aliens, Johnny's dated, like, five," he countered, starting to rise in his seat, "You're a mutant, ask one of your mutant kids. Maybe it's a space or other dimension thing."

Hank pursed his lips. "You have a point."

Nicky brightened. "Really?"

The mutant paused for a moment. "Do people not say that often?"

The psychologist shrugged. "I mean, they do, but that's when I'm talking about, you know, brain stuff."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "But we also hired you to be a weapons designer. The Four did the same."

"Yeah, but you guys are just like 'hey, Nicky, you wanna build us a thing and we'll trust your judgement unless we have input' not 'wow, Nicky, you know how to be a hero,' but that's not really in my job description anyways so..." he rambled, trailing off as he remembered the complex motto.

Hank gave him a sympathetic smile. "Better to be alive than a hero."

Nicky shook his head. "We changed it. It's 'don't be a hero, be of use.' There's a deeper meaning, but it's basically that I'm gonna build weapons, but I won't use them, because I have no reason or capability to. It's a little different because the first meant we stay out of trouble, but the second means we make sure we stop the trouble, not cause any more."

Hank licked his lips. "You still say 'we.'"

Nicky sighed. "Of course I do. Because they're still out there, I know it. I-I think what you caught wasn't Terran, but them."

"Nicky, you don't even know what happened to them," Hank pressed, furrowing his brows.

"An entire hidden apartment complex full of people doesn't just disappear out of nowhere with its protective shield still intact, Hank!" he shouted, glad that he had turned on his sound proofing white noise machine, "Something happened and they didn't just pack up. They didn't just leave."

There was an understood 'me' at the end of that sentence, but neither was much too willing to acknowledge it. It wasn't in Hank's place to tell Nicky what may or may not be healthy—he should, but he couldn't—and Nicky wasn't ready to admit to anything, not yet.

Hank sighed. "I'll go find some kids, see if they can figure it out, okay? But I need you to sleep, this-this isn't healthy."

That was as close as Hank could get to telling him the truth, and it was just enough that Nicky could pretend that he didn't know what the man was truly saying, that it was all in his head because Hank was talking about sleep, not his searching.

He really needed to sleep.

"Call me if you find anything," he said, giving the man a pointed look as he closed out of all his tabs and files, leaving only Hank on the screen.

"I always do," the man replied, and it was almost a joke, because they never did find anything, but he always did call him.

With that, he hung up and headed to his bed, collapsing immediately and, within minutes, was dead asleep.

○ ○ ○

"Happy Birthday, Nicky!"

Nicky was caught off guard as he dropped to the bottom of the stairs leading to the main dining room, finding everyone from the complex huddled in the room, cheering and holding presents and cake, blowing party horns, popping streamers, and wearing decorative hats.

"Our little man's an actual man now," Terran cooed, lifting Nicky into a hug, knocking the wind out of him with the sheer force; it was times like these that Nicky remembered the man had been trained to kill.

"Hug him, don't hurt him!" Janelle tutted, easing Nicky out of Terran's grip, plopping a party hat onto his head, "Happy Birthday, kid."

Janelle was a mutant that wasn't necessarily a runaway, but definitely wasn't a part of the group, able to teleport long distances and, once a long time ago, had been able to jump through time. She wasn't capable of it anymore—maybe she never truly was—but she wasn't any less powerful, but she refrained from using her powers unless it was under extreme duress or a special occasion.

"We all have work, but we wanted to make sure you got a sweet breakfast and your presents before you and Terran head off," she explained, and his confusion must have been evident because she gave a disapproving look towards the tall man who ducked his head sheepishly, "You didn't tell him."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Terran tried, but it was clear that, more than anything, he had just forgotten.

Rather than reprimanding him in front of all the people they were, to some extent, in charge of, Janelle just pushed Nicky towards the crowd, and the newly-turned eighteen-year-old laughed as he was bombarded with well wishes and hugs, surrounded by all sides.

He wasn't used to large bouts of affection. Or even small ones, really.

"Try not to blow us up, yeah?" one of them joked, handing over their present, and even though it was a dream, Nicky could remember the excitement he had felt realizing what was in the bag; whatever was in inside, he had forgotten.

One of the younger people at the complex—to be fair, they were all young—handed him another bag with a wink. "You're gonna blow us up anyways, but I'll love you forever if you leave my room intact."

It went on like that for some time, Nicky getting hugged and squeezed, his hair getting ruffled and hands soon filled with presents and pockets filled with cash. Even though he was now legally an adult, he was still treated like the baby, which he was, but his point still stood.

By the time he made his way around, blowing out his candles and taking a slice of his cake, most of the people were already late and a large horde was scrambling out, desperately trying to get to their jobs.

Nicky huffed a laugh as he watched them go, taking a bite of his cake and allowing himself a sliver of a smile.

His smile immediately dropped when he felt Terran move beside him, and he turned his head to look up at him.

The older man gave him a pleading look, but refrained from pressing the issue, now just leaning against the pole next to him, smiling. "Happy Birthday, Champ. How's it feel?"

"Alright," he replied, looking around, "Where's Rhett?"

Terran gave him an apologetic smile. "They're running some tests. Sorry, but he'll be awake when we get back."

Nicky shrugged. "It's okay. Where are we going?"

Terran shrugged as well. "Wherever you want. Honestly, Janelle's just offering this 'cause it's your birthday. If you want, you can go be with Rhett or just stay in your room. You could go by yourself, I don't need to tag along."

Nicky took another bite of his cake, thinking. "I don't know where I want to go." All he knew was he wanted Terran with him.

Terran, ever the camp counselor, merely bumped their shoulders together. "That's okay."

○ ○ ○

Nicky awoke to the deepest sense of longing he had had in a while. It filled his chest and twisted his heart, and he felt the need to throw up. It was a jealousy, yet there was nothing and no one to be jealous of.

Climbing out of bed, he went to check his computer, but found that there was no call from Hank. Sighing, he turned towards the blueprints he had to do for Reed, figuring that he might as well put in a dent in that.

Then there was a knock on his door.

"Hey," Rhett said, peering in, "I was gonna come check on you, but you stopped."

"Stopped what?" he asked, moving his chair back and forth, watching as the man moved to sit on the foot of his bed.

Rhett licked his lips. "You were chanting? I couldn't really make out the words, and I was surprised since you always have your white noise thing on during the day, but I could hear you saying something just over and over again."

Nicky felt a chill run up his spine, his skin prickling as he let the words sink in; he didn't quite know what they meant, but it couldn't have been good; his dream wasn't a nightmare and he only ever had strong reactions to particularly painful, warped memories.

Rhett, always observant, caught his reaction and rushed to add, "But I'm sure it was nothing. You're alright, right?"

Nicky nodded, moving so he was sitting on the bed as well, leaning his head against the older man's shoulder. "Yeah. I was just thinking about the guys. From the complex."

Rhett nodded knowingly, dropping his cheek against his head. "I'm sorry."

He already knew. He knew how hard it had been for Nicky when he realized he had lost them all, he had been with him to see. He had gotten attached to the group too, but his attachment was more to Nicky whereas the younger man's had been to all of them. For all he loved Terran, he loved everyone in that complex. It was like losing his entire family all at once, with no idea where they went and no way to say goodbye.

But Rhett didn't know half of his pain. He didn't know how all-consuming his need to find them was; it went so far as to interfere with his jobs. He didn't know how he was still coping. Maybe he wasn't.

"You know I'm always gonna be here, right?" Rhett said, interrupting his thoughts, "I mean, to listen. If you wanna talk."

Nicky gave him a wry smile. "Isn't that my job?"

Rhett rolled his eyes. "You look out for everyone else, but who looks out for you?"

Nicky licked his lips. "But are you able to?" No matter how much Rhett tried to hide it, Nicky knew that he could only do so much; there was only so much he trusted himself to do, and only so much he was capable of.

That was okay. That was more than okay. Because if there was one thing Nicky knew, it was putting himself before others if it meant keeping himself safe. At least, he understood it for others. Doing it himself was proving less than successful, given the lack of sleep recently.

Rhett sighed. "I can damn well try. That good enough?"

Nicky smiled, closing his eyes. Yeah. It was good enough. For now.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This was more of a filler chapter, but I needed ya'll to see more of the complex and Nicky's obsession with finding everyone. He stated before that he didn't think he could find all of them and was focused on finding Terran most of all, but it's slowly escalated and, also, just because Nicky says something doesn't necessarily mean it's true; look at how many lies he tells Rhett.

That's really all there is to say, I'm trying to get these chapters pumped out because we're nearing Infinity War and I've still got a ways to go.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!