Howling Wind And Gravity


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Scene Title Howling Wind And Gravity
Synopsis Shahid Khan pursues Asami to the end of the road when traffic fights to keep her in New York, and receives sudden company in his copilot seat for his trouble.
Date February 1, 2021

Jersey City, NJ

Shahid isn't the only helicopter pilot deployed in the manhunt actively ongoing, but he is the one who caught sight of the cherry-red motorcycle after it sped right through the tolls on the other side of the Lincoln Tunnel.

Asami Tetsuzan is presumed as armed and dangerous as ever, this time in vehicular format, too. She'd assaulted officers back in Hell's Kitchen before heading south on a stolen, flashy motorbike. For all the wrongs she's done herself today, at least she did this one that makes her that much easier to identify.

The bike must be screaming for how she handles it, merging off of 495 onto Highway 9 in Jersey violently enough the wheels throw smoke rounding the on-ramp. He's crossing over the state line to continue pursuit at this point—

But he wasn't about to let her get away. Not when the radio chirped that his wife was one of the officers assaulted back Midtown.

Needless to say when the call for not just one but multiple units from Aviation to activate, Shahid was more than ready to join the fray. It wasn't until he was up in the air in a navy-and-white NYPD helicopter that the brief span of info came through.

Hearing that the wanted fugitive was one Asami Tetsuzan was a surprise. Wasn't she part of the Linderman Group? The implications that tumbled through him as he was clearing flight paths with dispatch came to a halt with the further info that his wife had been involved in a dangerous encounter with said wanted fugitive.

He had to double check.

But evidence and accounts were fast mounting. Calls incoming of the speeding motorcycle found Shahid closest to the direction the red rider was headed, and… There. The chase was on and it was going to take Jersey's Aviation unit time to spin up.

Time he didn't have to spare. He's called in her location, still tracking her across the border as far as his surveillance equipment is going to allow. But she's getting away, the man's inner urges insist. "Fuck it," Shahid grumbles in a tone all too like his wife's if he stops to think about it. A forward press on his controls, and the helicopter starts down in descent to close some of the distance and let Asami know. Justice is hot on her tail.


Asami half-turns, looking past her shoulder to get a look at just what is chasing her only for her grasp on the handles to wobble. Southbound she goes speeding still. Her helmeted head snaps forward again, mindful of a car she has to dodge her way around. Her stomach jumps into her chest when the car almost merges into her mid-overtake like it's not seen her at all, completely unaware of the speeding bike that had approached its rearview, not to mention the fucking helicopter flying in low-altitude pursuit behind them.

She passes the car too quickly to get a look at the driver, and it's cutting her off from being able to take the exit ramp for Route 7 without taking a good-sized risk.

The vehicle she's mounted is tiny enough, her attention split enough, she doesn't realize at first she's run right past a road closed sign for the upcoming overpass that's been shut down for renovations. By the time she notes the odd construction barrel, she has to swerve to avoid a generator light that was left in the middle of the center lane.

Half-shouting wordless invectives, she fights for control over the bike again, which continues to barrel forward despite the see-sawing wheels back and forth. Her hands flare with white, inner light— maybe just the odd reflection of the hazy sun off the bike's side mirrors?— as she fights to steady the wheels into a straight line again, somehow not having wrecked yet

All while she still careens oh so quickly toward a horizontally-placed row of concrete dividers erected just before the overpass dead-ends into a gap much too far to clear, river beyond it.

Radio chatter bursts over Shahid's headset, but he's only half paying attention to dispatch advisories as he keeps tabs on Asami's dangerous maneuvers below. There's not much time to think on the white light flaring at the handles. Upon seeing her get forced into an off-limits construction area, he grits his teeth and pushes the aerial vehicle on as he tries to get ahead of her and redirect his quarry. A hasty hand flicks the onboard PA speaker.

"Slow down! Road closed ahead!"

From his position higher up, he gauges just how many seconds left she has to turn back.

Asami pulls back on the acceleration the moment she hears the helicopter begin to overtake her. Just after gaining steadier control of the wheels, she spins the controls and slams on the brakes at the same time.

The wheels skid, leaving parallel lines of black on the concrete across the concrete, the suddenly nearly-horizontal bike doing its best to come to a stop while sliding closer and closer to that block of concrete barrier.

She has enough time to see it's coming, but not enough time to do anything about it within human ability. "Shit."

At least she's not bound by that.

When the wheels and side of the bike collide with the barrier, the shocks depress to absorb as much of the blow as possible despite the crunch of metal that inevitably follows, and Asami just keeps on going. Through the bike, through the concrete, like neither object existed for her at all.

Awkwardly, she fumbles a smooth transition into a run when her feet hit the ground again. Stumbling, she's a flail of arms and legs for a dozen feet— and goes sailing right off the side of the overpass.

She doesn't even scream as she begins to fall forward and out in a tumble. Asami closes her eyes within the helmet, trusting in the weightlessness of falling rather than panicking to see how far away she is from the ground. Her body rolls over once, then stops falling entirely— like a leaf caught by the wind prevented from reaching earth.

Asami's eyes snap open as she hovers midair some sixty feet off the ground, well toward the middle of the gap between the sides of the overpass under construction. Maybe there was a net drawn between the two portions? A safety measure for workers?

But no. After she regains control, she begins to float even higher than she was before, motorcycle helmet tilted up in the direction of the helicopter. Watching. Waiting to see what happens next.

Her hands slowly tighten to fists at her sides, the faceplate on the helmet providing an impassive look to the flying fugitive.

Even if he wanted to do something more about preventing the crash, there's the sinking feeling that Shahid is, as always, only able to observe the inevitable. A heavy pit in his stomach, icy, cold, reminiscent of the jumbled sensations he could only remember in fits and spurts of screams, screeching tires, and a sudden, rough, crunching impact. Then it's back to the thumping rotors and actual skidding rubber squealing against asphalt.

He swears again to himself, readying to call for EMS and clean up crew.

But as Asami's best impression of the Akira red motorcycle slide results in a crunch of machine against the concrete barriers, he's also watching when she miraculously winds up on the other side of the barrier rather than a limp red smear upon it. Confusion mixes with shock. Did she jump? How did he miss it? And how rad was that?

The weird thoughts pass in milliseconds as he gasps, seeing her trajectory continue forward to the edge, realizing she's about to—

"No!" he yelps out involuntarily.

Shahid jerks the control of the helicopter in a further drop of altitude, moving the airborne vehicle towards the wreckage, towards what surely is to be a…

A floating woman.

"Wh-what the…?"

It's muscle memory that holds the helicopter in its hovering state while he stares at the woman through the cockpit glass. An airborne impasse reached. She can't hear him from her exterior position, but she can see the man mouth the words, "How?"

One hand lifts to tear off her helmet, and Asami doesn't spare a look for it as it slips from her fingers and falls far, far down to the ground. She looks up right to the cockpit, arms spreading wide in a shrug before falling back down to her side. The opened body of her jacket shifts in the draft put off by the rotors.

She starts to shout something up at him that can't be heard over the helicopter, but her expression slacks mid-sentence. She starts to peer up more intently at the flying machine— at the pilot directly.

"How?" she wonders right back in return, the awed word clearly visible on her.

She dares slightly closer, still keeping a respectful range from the helicopter even as she peers harder at it, head tilting slightly to the side. Without even moving her mouth, a voice that must belong to her can still be heard anyway.

You have an ability, too. A power. Hiding. Waiting. One piece out of place keeping you from how you should be. Her voice doesn't come from his headset. Somehow, he hears her almost as if she's in his head. Exactly as if she were in his head.

Tell them you lost track of me, Asami suggests as much as asks. And we can talk.

«Khan!? Copy!?»

Shahid blinks rapidly as the radio in his headset interrupts the other voice in his head, coming from the flying woman staring at him in the sky.

"Tiger 1, copy." His voice sounds distant to himself.

«… Status?»

His words catch again. What's his status? The man currently staring speechlessly at Asami doesn't readily reply on his radio. There was little else that commanded his attention. But the dispatcher's question demands some of it. He breaks off the stare to glance down at his instruments, to gain his bearings, to find familiarity in the gauges, levers, buttons.

The uncomplicated things that he could still control.

"10-53 Q-P, motorcycle is down at the road closure past Lincoln Tunnel exit." The reply comes steadier as he informs the proper authorities about the vehicular accident below, rediscovering but holding back the sense of awe upon still seeing the woman floating before his helicopter. He swallows down the knot in his throat as he listens to the dispatcher relay more information and request.

"No… no, I… Suspect last seen headed south past the border, on foot. Contact NJSP and relay last 20. Returning to command, over."

«10-4 Tiger 1, over.»

Giving his head a quick shake, Shahid exhales slowly, trying to slow his pounding heart, worry nagging in the back of his mind about so many things that tumble in and out. And what about Isa? Was she even okay? He squints at the woman in the sky. And without an ability to communicate via audible means from his end unless he wanted to blast the woman with a PA roar, he was going to have to find a different means. With a glance around, Shahid confirms with himself first and then peers back at Asami. They could, perhaps, talk. But it wouldn’t be here. There wasn’t enough fuel to hold him up long enough to answer all the questions.

With an upraised hand, palm out to signal a stoppage, he motions down to the wreckage and closed road and then gestures to her, two fingers pointed at her. You did that. His hand pats at his chest once and then he thumbs back over his shoulder to show that they should leave the area. Well, he is going to leave the area. It’s what still makes sense.

As it happens, it makes sense to Asami, too. She needed to get back to the city, and it just so happened the helicopter would be an excellent way to slip back into the city without immediate notice being given to her return. She drifts closer to the helicopter, eyes darting up to the blades to repeatedly check she's not in dangerous proximity. She recenters herself by looking back to Shaw. Her goal.

Asami comes alongside the helicopter as it starts to turn, and it takes only a moment of her being out of Shaw's peripheral for the sound of stumbling, heavy footsteps to sound in the cabin behind the cockpit, sans an accompanying roar of wind from opening the doors.

That the police helicopter is void of persons aside from its pilot is a relief to her, shoulders sagging as she settles into her weight again like a tired bird come to land. It's been a stressful day, she thinks to herself. She starts to move for the cockpit but catches herself at the last moment, looking down to her red hoodie, stained darker in parts, with holes over the gut. Asami zips the brown leather of her jacket up over evidence of previous wounds. Glancing up after, she steps closer to the pilot, a hand held out to steady herself on the narrow entry from cabin to cockpit.

"What's your name?" Asami wonders, voice still somehow quieter than it had been in his head despite lifting it in a shout over the noise of the helicopter.

Reality has been shaken up with the conclusion of this chase, but Shahid's reality had been shaken up months ago last year when his medical emergency had taken him out of the cockpit and into the sterile world of hospitals and physical therapy. How long had it taken him to get back into the right clearance, to resume life with regularity? But, somehow, ever since that day, things had not ever felt regular. And now today…

"Holy shit!" he swears as Asami happens to phase in to the helicopter right behind him. Several things he had expected, none of them for her to invade what he'd assumed was a locked, safe space. His space.

That goes right out, just like the curses. One hand leaves the controls to reach for a small, snub-nose pistol holstered against the underside of the pilot's seat. A part of Shaw, however, steadies his hand on the gun grip and doesn't withdraw it. He swallows down the nervous anxiety climbing with the sour bile of fear in his throat.

"Sh-Shahid," he answers her, his dark eyes staring and blinking once. "Most people just say Shaw."

He nods to the empty, cramped co-pilot seat beside him for her to take it. "Don't touch anything," he warns, although there's not more force behind it. Because he knows full well who is at whose mercy in the moment.

Asami swallows hard, considering the copilot's seat. Her eyes flit ahead ever so briefly out the viewport, considering the view ahead before she very carefully clambers into the copilot's seat, not bothering to belt herself in. She's reached a state past anxiety, past fear— seemingly level with only adrenaline keeping her from succumbing to a bone-deep tire. She sets her hands on her lap, not seeming to know what to do with them.

"Shahid," she repeats back, her eyes kept ahead to avoid getting lost in his own— in getting a deeper glimpse of what she saw in him from afar. A moment of silence lapses before she admits, "I'm not the best at this elevator pitch. But the world isn't what it seems, Shahid. There are… powerful people keeping a secret from everyone. People have superpowers, and somehow, they've been systematically repressed. This all started because I somehow woke up from whatever was keeping mine negated, and… the government is spinning whatever story they need to in order to make sure I die."

"Maybe it's because I can fly— Maybe it's because I can awaken others to their power. I—" Her brow starts to knit as she admits, "I don't know. It's been over a month, and I don't know much more than that first day. But I've met others since my life was taken from me, and gave them back what was taken from them."

Abruptly, Asami looks conflicted, nearly tearful. She doesn't trust herself to not fix Shaw, to give him back what's rightly owed to him. That compulsion is a powerful, inescapable thing, no matter how dangerous a situation it puts either of them in— all good intentions be damned. It gnaws at her. It hungers.

"You deserve what's yours back to you," she insists, her voice lifting louder to make sure she's heard. "It might not be easy, but it's what's right. What you do with it is up to you, ultimately." Finally, she glances to Shaw in her periphery, her head slowly turning to follow after. "But I want to fix what's broken in you."

"Until now, I would have thought I was dreaming," Shahid says evenly, "blamed the medications." Slowly, he returns both hands to the controls once Asami has sat down beside him. His eyes break away his gaze from her with reluctance, occasionally checked sideways at the unexpected passenger. Some mental math calculations, and they've started the flight back to command. She can recognize he's taking it slow even if the path is still its normal, direct route.

While she sits conflicted and fighting a compulsion, he sits quiet, thoughtful, only the mechanical whirring of the rotor blades casting a white noise to surround the silence emanating from the man. It almost seems like he hadn't heard her over the engines. Maybe he hadn't, because he then points to copilot's headset secured on her side.

He waits for her to put it on before turning to stare at her again, dark eyes scanning her face, her disheveled clothes and windtossed hair, echoes of a haunted look mirroring from her face to his. He speaks seriously.

"You met Detective Khan, earlier. I know you two had a fight. So tell me one thing, truthfully."

His hands tighten almost imperceptibly around the control stick.

"What did you do to my wife?"

His wife. Asami's expression falls, her eyes reflecting surprise. They refocus, seeing him for him and not that broken thing inside him. It buys them both a few more moments. "I told her the same thing I told you. That something in her was broken. She grabbed ahold of me…" Even on the headset, her voice begins to sound withdrawn. She's not proud of what happened. It just is what it is. "She wanted to know. Told me to fix her, so I did."

Heavily, she admits, "Her power isn't like any I've seen, Shahid. She's going to need support. Her partner can help keep her in check, but she won't always be there. And if your wife gets overwhelmed, she'll need someone to help her calm down. To not become a danger to herself."

And to others, but that's the last thing he needs to hear, surely.

"The most important thing to know is you're not alone either." Asami's brow knits before her voice radiates to him again not through the headset, but in his mind. Gillian Childs with the NYPD, she's also like us. So is Isaac Faulkner of the Linderman Group.

Her eyes are fixed on him more intently than before now, her left hand beginning to lift from her side of its own accord. When her sleeve slightly draws back down her arm, a dark handprint around her wrist and forearm becomes visible.

"Ever since I was thirteen, I woke up broken," Shahid replies softly, his tone thick in the throat before it escapes. Asami's strange abilities don't even seem to penetrate the forefront of his thoughts as flashbacks of darkness and icy cold waters filling his lungs bring a stinging in his eyes. Her recounting of her encounter with Isabelle and the reminder that he's not alone dash away the long past nightmare. Only, maybe, to introduce a new one.

Like us? What does that mean? Confusion writes into his expression. He 'heard' her again, but she hadn't spoken. The names given are familiar, but they don’t exactly distract him the same way as when she stares him down. And with there being no place to run, he’s caught like a mouse in a serpent’s gaze. Shahid glances down at her hand when it moves, attention drawn to the handprint on her wrist and forearm, realizing… it's no tattoo. "What," he utters at first, then alarm shoots like a bolt through him as he remembers. She's a dangerous criminal, the warnings had sounded even though there was no clear indication of what Asami was being charged with.

"What did you do?" he demands again. The explanation she's offered proves too vague for him to understand without witnessing it firsthand. As her hand moves, his own lets go of the helicopter control in anticipation of a physical strike.

Even as the helicopter begins to pitch from the lack of guidance given to it, Asami smiles. It comes over her unexpectedly, widening as she reaches for Shaw's face, leaning out of her seat. Her eyes shift from brown to a sudden, molten gold, staring right through him as her hand quickly snaps out to touch his brow.

"Shahid…" Asami starts to explain as she invisibly, quickly tugs some piece inside of him back into place. The effect of the touch radiates out, starting with his head, sinuses suddenly clearing— it takes hold in his gut, in his spine. The injury he suffered from last year begins to burn, spreading from bone to muscle with an icy-hot sting that just grows in intensity.

Shaw yells and starts to fight back against what's being done to him, the cool soothe of something being righted just as frightening as the burning pain of it. Asami continues to hold onto him, her other hand joining the first while her eyes glow. In the space of an impossible blink, Shaw feels the world around him grow dark, stomach flipping—

And then they're suddenly no longer in the helicopter, which continues on at an odd angle ahead without them after they drop out of the bottom of it. Asami holds onto Shaw by his vest while they float on a controlled descent back toward the ground, her smile cracked and fading. His struggling makes it so hard to hold on, and like him, she seems to be suffering too, abruptly.

Her weakened core, not entirely healed, makes it so difficult to keep a hold on him with any strength. A searing cool radiates from the gunshot wounds, and abruptly her eyes lose the golden intensity they had when she first seized Shaw. Asami gasps as she succumbs to a single moment of weakness—

And that moment is enough that Shaw slips from her and begins a fall of over a hundred feet to the grassy hillside below. "No!" she shouts, reaching for him, but he continues to fall, and in the distance the helicopter pitches and begins to tilt to the side, heading down for the waters of the Hudson River. After that initial panic, her widened eyes suddenly wash with a grim calm, watching Shaw's descent, resigning herself to the results of it.

Arms wheeling, Shaw falls.

The close encounter having taken him by surprise followed by an incomprehensible pain stuns him. There's no training in the world that could ready a man for near-death experiences.

Neither are the moments before death. The inevitability of it is still one he gutclenchingly fears. The wind roars as he comes to realize where he's at. Outside the helicopter. Tumbling towards the ground. The weightless feeling of freefall is hauntingly familiar.

Fuck! No! Not like this! No no no, God, please!

He resists. His screaming is torn away from him like his strength to fight the howling wind and gravity.

I- I can't!

Nothing save for the tilted angle of a hill leading to the riverbank is there to break his fall.

Off in the corner of his eye, his helicopter spins down in an equally unstoppable descent.

I'm sorry, Izz—

The sky is blue above, the ground below is impossibly hard, and it all happens so fast. When he hits, his breath leaves him, so many bones in his body shatter and his organs rupture, and the light leaves his eyes.

… But only for a moment.

With a gasp of shock, the cooling burn is back again, knitting him back together. Bones snap back into place. His heart begins beating again. He pushes himself into a sit, looks down at himself, adrenaline rushing. On seeing a bloody crack of white sticking up from his shin, Shaw follows instinct and pushes it back down, and the bone and muscle simply heals its way back whole without even a thought from him, good as new. In less than half a minute, save for the bloodied tear in his pantleg where broken shin had poked through, there's no sign of the fatal injury that had befallen him.


The calm, cloud-pocked sky slides back into his view, shifting from black to grey, grey to blue. The vividness of the color returns with the sensation of… Life.

"Yyyeaarghh!" Shahid's audible exclamation isn't loud, but the finish screams in his head. The rest of his movements seems to resume by instinct. Once he's sat up, pushed his shin back together with a shaking, bloodied hand, he sits where he's impacted against the ground. Physically no longer broken. She's 'fixed' him in that sense. But mentally?

Asami stops her descent, hovering some twenty feet above him with her wide eyes still fixed on his reformed body.

From within the part of him that's mended comes awareness of Asami once more. Dark eyes lift up and pin upon the floating woman. The one who said she could fix what was broken. But then, the dam breaks.

Shaw curls inward, shoulders shaking in faint, uncontrolled sobbing.

The urge to flee rather than face this would make a better version of herself sick to her stomach, but Asami as she is has trouble facing the human, messy thing she's caused in giving Shaw the means to survive the accident that just befell him.

But it's her fault it happened at all. It's all her fault; the beginning, middle, and end of it, and all the moments in between. As difficult as that is to face, she needs to.

Hesitantly, she finishes her descent, feet finding ground only to take a few steps closer to him. "Shahid?" she airs cautiously, her head dipping some. "Shaw, it's all right. You're okay."

Unabashed freak outs aren't characteristic to Shahid's usual quiet demeanor. But in this moment, there are no such social qualms to corral him. The rapid hyperventilating and soft, incoherent whines interspersed with fuck and shit as he fights the panic barely start to fade when she steps closer.

Gasp. Gulp. The air feels like it burns in his lungs. It only reminds him of the cooling burn he had felt as he rejuvenated. "Oh, oh God." And then, after a hiccup, he weakens from the tightened fetal curling. Face turning upward to the infinite blue above them, Shaw stares at the palette as if tracing his trajectory from where he was minutes ago. The logic and reasoning fail him. How had he fallen?

He hears his name. Dark eyes rimmed in red turn to the woman. "Am I?" he questions, two words bearing the pain of realization. "What happened? I, I died. Didn't I?" Back to staring at bloodied hands, the ones that had pushed his bones back in. Lips part, his tongue feeling too dry to wet them, the metallic, coppery taste lingering on it turning sour and bitter. How many times had he died and returned? From the car accident that killed his parents to the stroke that left him nearly dead. It truly begged the question.

"Asami… What am I?"

As much as she wants to insist upon the miracle and the joy of the moment, to encourage her exhilaration she felt the moment she fixed him onto him, all the moments since are heavier things. He slipped from her grip. And god, what if he hadn't had this ability?

But Asami gives him a small, sympathetic smile in place of the giddy excitement she might have otherwise. "You're better now. All the strength that's owed to you is yours again." She lifts a hand cautiously, like she means to offer comfort, but ultimately she withholds it, uncertain if it would help or hurt. "Your power is there. It's awake. You can feel it, can't you? Feel what it did."

Her hand comes to her abdomen. "It's a part of me now, too. It healed the rest of what I hadn't from earlier. It startled me, and I couldn't hold onto you. I'm— I'm sorry."

Those are words she's avoided with every person she's crossed paths with. The compulsion felt good, after all, to be fulfilled. How could she feel sorry for that? But this wasn't that, she reasons. Just a few seconds off, just different enough she's able to feel this way. "I fixed you, fixed your power, made everything right— but I should've held on harder. You're okay, because of course you're okay, except…"

It'd be so nice if they could just be excited about this. If he could see this as the gift it was, rather than focus on the pain that made him realize just how powerful he really is. Maybe she could wipe out the fear if she just reached out, touched him, and…


Asami takes a half-step back from the thought, from herself. She shakes her head once before insisting quietly, "You're you, Shahid. Nothing more, nothing less."

Her head turns at the sound of the helicopter splashing into the water in the distance, feeling far less guilt about that than she should. "Tell them whatever you need to to paint me as the bad guy and keep yourself safe from them. Tell them that you barely escaped with your life. You jumped out into the river, somehow made it to shore." Worried he might actually wade into the water, she turns her head back to him. "Just— whatever you do— don't drown. I'm—" Asami shakes her head once. "I'm not sure what you can do will work against that."

Shahid stares unblinkingly at Asami, eyes red and looking like a panicked stray in the wake of her explanation. He doesn't understand in the way she can see what she's done to him. Fixed what was broken? The point that they have superpowers is still an overwhelming abstraction of the reality he's known.

The sound of helicopter crashing into the water breaks the mental lockup. Dark eyes turn towards the river, and Shahid gasps involuntarily in shock. But when Asami tries to extricate herself, he whips his focus back on to her with an accusing glare. "Are you kidding? Are you fucking— Look what you did! What the fuck am I supposed to say? I lost control?"

A jolt of anger stirs Shahid to his feet, not a single broken bone stopping him. Not that he's noticed yet. "They'll never believe me. They'll never— they'll never let me fly again." His haphazard conclusion strikes like a ferocious, invisible slap across his face. It's a punch to the gut. He forces a dry, tight swallow of a nauseating feeling. Fists clenched at his sides, he grits out, "Where are you going? What are you going to do?"

Asami flaps her arms out by her side in an attempt at a shrug, her head shaking helplessly. "Maybe find a nice bridge or something to hide under, hope to God I don't run into someone else like us so I don't go creating even more chaos today." By the end of that statement, frustration mounts, directed at herself.

"Blame it all on me, Shahid. The way they've been fucking carrying on about how dangerous I am, maybe I had a rocket launcher. Isn't that crazy enough to pass as the truth?" She's starting to wish harder now she could take some of this back. To not have ruined Shaw's livelihood potentially. Her eyes close hard.

"Just… go home, Shaw," Asami asks of him like that, with all the air of an I'm sorry. Her feet begin to leave the ground, taking her away in an upward lift again. "Don't sit alone with this. Your wife needs you, too."

All the sorries in the world won't help here, though. When she opens her eyes and sees Shaw's bewildered, angry look, she realizes that.

And then she's gone, moving fast over the water until she's out of sight entirely.

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