After the entire spectacle unfolded—a chaotic crescendo of explosions, heroics, and heart-stopping moments that left everyone breathless—Y/N made her decision with quiet resolve. She would not leave anyone behind. Samiro, his dark hair matted with sweat and blood, lay pale but alive on a stretcher; Elijah, his usually sharp eyes dulled by exhaustion, gritted his teeth against the pain in his side; and the others, each bearing their own wounds from the harrowing battle, would all be taken back to New York with her. It was non-negotiable.

Luke and Jessie arrived just as she had hoped, their sleek private jet descending like an avian predator onto the makeshift landing pad. The aircraft gleamed under the fading sunlight, its metallic surface reflecting the last rays of gold and crimson. As the ramp lowered, revealing the pristine interior beyond, Y/N felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. They were here. Her friends hadn't abandoned them, even when the odds seemed insurmountable.

With painstaking care, the wounded were loaded onto the jet, their bodies secured into specialized medical pods designed for long-distance travel. Each step was deliberate, every movement precise, ensuring no further harm came to those who had already suffered so much. Once everyone was aboard, the engines roared to life, vibrating through the floor beneath her feet. The world outside blurred as they ascended into the sky, leaving the desolation of the battlefield far below. Above them stretched endless expanses of clouds, soft and luminescent in the twilight, while ahead loomed the promise of safety and healing.

Y/N moved gracefully between the rows of medical bays, her movements fluid yet purposeful. Her fingers worked deftly, administering bacta to each patient with unwavering precision. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint hum of machinery monitoring vital signs. For Samiro, she paused longer than usual, smoothing back his damp bangs before adjusting the flow of the bacta drip. His chest rose and fell steadily now, a testament to the efficacy of the treatment. Elijah, though conscious, remained silent, his gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling. Y/N offered him a small smile, her hand lingering briefly on his shoulder before moving on to tend to the next person.

Each patient received their fill of the healing substance, the greenish glow of the bacta tanks casting an otherworldly light across their faces. Y/N ensured every wound was cleaned, every bandage secure, every machine calibrated perfectly. There was no room for error—not now, not ever. With each passing moment, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly, replaced by a sense of duty fulfilled. These people were her family, her comrades, her responsibility. And she would see them through this, no matter what it took.

As the hours passed and the city lights of New York began to twinkle on the horizon, Y/N allowed herself a single, fleeting moment of peace. The hum of the engines provided a soothing backdrop, a reminder that they were finally heading home. Home, where they could rest, recover, and rebuild. Where they could heal—not just physically, but emotionally too. For now, though, she stood vigilant, her presence a comforting constant amidst the chaos of recovery.

As Y/N moved gracefully between the rows of medical bays, her focus unwavering, Samiro's weak but deliberate grasp on her hand stopped her in her tracks. His fingers curled around hers with surprising strength despite his fragile state, and his voice—though hoarse and strained—carried a warmth that cut through the sterile atmosphere of the jet.

"Glowing," he rasped, his lips curling into a faint smile as he looked up at her. "How have you been living here in New York?" The question was simple, yet it carried the weight of their shared history, of all they had endured together and apart. His dark eyes searched hers, finding comfort in her presence even as his body fought to mend itself.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the sudden intimacy of the exchange. She glanced down at him, her silver wings fluttering softly behind her like an ethereal breeze caught in motion. Their feathers shimmered faintly under the glow of the bacta tanks, casting delicate shadows across the walls of the cabin.

"Not sure," she replied after a pause, her tone soft and contemplative. Shrugging slightly, she let her gaze drift away from his, out toward the window where the stars were beginning to peek through the velvet expanse of night. Her answer wasn't just about life in New York—it was about everything: the uncertainty of the future, the scars left behind by battles fought, and the quiet ache of carrying so much responsibility. Yet there was also something else—a flicker of hope, perhaps, or maybe just the knowledge that she wasn't alone anymore.

Samiro's grip tightened ever so slightly, anchoring her back to the present. He didn't need words to convey what he felt; his touch said enough. A silent promise that no matter how uncertain things might seem, they would face it together. And for now, that was enough.

With one last reassuring squeeze, Y/N gave him a small smile before gently disentangling her hand. She adjusted his blankets, tucking them snugly around him, then patted his shoulder lightly. "Rest," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. "We'll talk more when we're home."

As she turned to continue her rounds, her wings swaying gracefully behind her, Samiro closed his eyes, a peaceful expression settling onto his features. Home. It was a word that felt foreign yet familiar, distant yet attainable. And though the journey ahead wouldn't be easy, he knew, deep down, that as long as she was by his side, anything was possible.

SCENEBREAK

The jet descended gracefully onto the tarmac, its sleek form cutting through the cool New York air. Bertram handled the controls with practiced ease, bringing the aircraft to a smooth stop that barely disturbed the passengers aboard. As the engines quieted, the doors opened to reveal the worried faces of Emma, Zuri, and Ravi waiting outside. Their expressions softened into relief upon seeing their friends emerge, though concern lingered in their eyes.

Luke and Jessie moved swiftly, wheeling the injured off the plane with careful precision. Elijah sat slumped in his chair, pale but conscious, while Samiro remained silent, his breathing steady thanks to Y/N's earlier ministrations. The sight of their battered forms only deepened the frown lines etched into Emma's brow.

"Do you need any help?" Emma asked immediately, stepping forward without hesitation. She took Elijah's school bag from Jessie, her movements efficient yet gentle. Her gaze flickered toward Y/N, who stood at the edge of the ramp, watching the scene unfold.

Y/N shook her head, her silver wings unfurling behind her like twin storms of light. Each feather caught the dim airport lighting, refracting it into an iridescent cascade of colors. "I've got this," she declared, her voice firm and resolute. With a graceful sweep of her arms, she raised her claws skyward. Magic crackled to life between her fingertips, sparking first as tiny embers before erupting into brilliant streams of energy.

A gasp rippled through the small gathering as the magic surged outward, bathing the entire area in a radiant glow. The once-dull airport terminal seemed to awaken, the harsh fluorescent lights paling in comparison to the ethereal brilliance emanating from Y/N. Her power flowed freely, weaving intricate patterns in the air as it wrapped around the injured, cocooning them in warmth and healing energy.

Emma, Zuri, and Ravi stared in stunned silence, their mouths agape. The air itself seemed to hum with vitality, charged by Y/N's spell. Even the distant sounds of luggage carts and chatter faded into insignificance beneath the weight of her magic. It wasn't just about healing—it was about hope, renewal, and the promise of brighter days ahead.

Finally, the display subsided, leaving behind a serene calm. The injured looked visibly better, their wounds sealed and their pain eased. Elijah blinked slowly, color returning to his cheeks, while Samiro stirred, his lips curving into a faint smile.

Y/N lowered her hands, her breath catching slightly from the exertion, but her expression remained serene. She turned to Emma, her lips curling into a confident grin. "See?" she said, her tone laced with playful pride. "I told you I can do this."

Emma chuckled softly, shaking her head in amazement. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic," she replied, though there was no trace of sarcasm in her voice—only admiration. Zuri clapped her hands together, beaming, while Ravi nodded approvingly, clearly impressed.

As the group began to disperse, moving toward the waiting vehicles that would carry them home, Y/N allowed herself a moment to bask in the afterglow of her achievement. For all the battles fought and scars earned, moments like these reminded her why she carried such immense power—and why she would never shy away from using it when needed.

Home awaited, and with it, the promise of rest, recovery, and perhaps even joy. But for now, surrounded by those she cared for most, Y/N felt whole. And that was enough.