Chapter Text
It was far too bright. That was the first thing Earving became aware of from the murky waters of his consciousness. Even with his eye closed, it seared through and burned.
Was this it? Heaven? He hadn’t imagined this was where he would end up, but he was grateful. Calm washed over him, and he let out a breath. He relaxed, sinking into the soft surface he was lying on.
His eyelid twitched as he tried to open it, to little avail. Everything still felt so heavy. He only managed a small crack before it fluttered shut again.
There was no sense of urgency or impatience, though. He had all the time in the world. When he was ready, everyone would be waiting for him.
Or so he thought. Suddenly, his peace was interrupted by a voice.
“There he is! Finally, you’re up.”
Any sense of contentment was swept away in an instant. He tensed, choking on air as a cold weight settled in his chest. An eye that had previously been glued shut shot open, glancing around frantically as he tried and failed to sit up. His arms were so weak, scrabbling beneath him unable to push him up. His legs didn’t fare much better, twitching as they were trapped beneath… Something.
“Woah, hey hey!” The voice chimed in again, sounding surprised. “Relax, it’s just me.”
A hand clamped onto Earving’s shoulder, firm and heavy. It was the opposite of relaxing
Freezing in place, he followed it, his gaze moving from a red gloved hand up to a far too familiar face.
John’s blue eyes bore into him. A smile beneath them that twisted Earving’s stomach. It didn’t look malicious, but…
Their last encounter flashed in his mind, and his own hand shot to his middle, eye tearing away from John to survey the damage.
What he saw shocked him. No blood, no organs. Just a neat incision that seemed mostly healed.
Slowly, he turned back to his… friend? And tilted his head, which was starting to ache.
In lieu of explaining, John’s smile softened and he sighed in relief. “You were out for months, you know. I.. I kept thinking we were gonna lose you.” His hand, still on Earving’s shoulder, squeezed.
It wasn’t painful. All things considered, it was very gentle. Still, Earving could feel his skin crawl. But he didn’t move, that didn’t feel like a wise thing to do right now.
The monitors that he’d been blissfully unaware of before thanks to the ringing in his ears were beeping rapidly, an audible sign of his nerves. Not that it was needed, John could hear his heartbeat regardless.
If it irritated him, he didn’t say anything. Even when his hand migrated to the unmarred side of Earving’s face, fingers stroking so gently as if the man in front of him was made of glass, and the machines grew even louder. Faster.
He wished he had his mask. He knew the thought was irrational, it would be useless. But he still felt so horribly exposed without it.
They stayed like that for longer than Earving could keep track of. Over time he calmed, at least enough so that he no longer felt like a cornered animal, as he watched John’s face.
He truly did look relieved. Sometimes his expression would twitch slightly, usually when his eyes wandered from Earving’s face to the still-healing wound. Though his smile never left, genuine and soft.
Earving couldn’t help his own lips curving up in response. It was hard to stay upset, when John so clearly regretted hurting him. (An apology might have been nice, but he knew better than to expect one)
He’d kind of brought… their last interaction on himself, he knew that. He’d been keeping secrets, and John didn’t like liars. He’d been fully prepared to die, he’d made peace with it as soon as the other began questioning him.
He didn’t know how the confrontation with Ben had gone, and he was honestly scared to ask. He knew that someone as awful as Ben would never accept John, as a son nor as an equal. So he could only hope that his friend still being here, and himself still being alive, meant that man was finally gone.
After a while, John patted Earving’s cheek and then stood. His eyes shone, wet with tears that he refused to let fall. Of course, he turned away as soon as he became aware of them. “Rest up, pal. I really want you back on the team soon.”
With that, he walked out.
His recovery didn’t take very long, after that. Certainly far less time than the last time he was stuck in this infirmary. Once he woke up, the process sped up quite a bit.
Within only a few days, the fog in his head cleared, as did the sluggishness settled over his limbs. Within a week, his wound stopped aching, even when he moved. It faded almost fully into healthy scar tissue.
Moving around again was also a much easier process than he expected. He stumbled a bit at first, legs still weak from disuse, but that was remedied after a mere day of practice. Seems his powers were good for at least one thing.
John didn’t visit very often, apparently very busy with whatever The Seven and Vought were up to now. Things that still hadn’t been explained to him, frustratingly. Whenever he asked, John just assured him that he’d get caught up after he was released.
Fair enough. Apparently there was going to be a meeting, so the rest of the team could have things explained too.
At least John brought one of his sketchbooks pretty early on, so he had something to do while he waited.
And when the day came, he wasn’t informed by any of his doctors. Instead, his friend entered one day and handed him his suit to change into, grinning.
At Earving’s questioning look, he only said “You’re good to go. Now come on, don’t wanna keep the others waiting.”
Earving huffed out a laugh at that. Of course John had already called the meeting, probably had the second he found out. He never had been the most patient.
It felt nice finally putting his uniform back on, in a way. A familiar routine, one he’d gone through countless times before. He was sure he could do it with his eyes closed at this point.
They walked through the halls side by side, and as they stood outside the big metal doors, John reached over and grabbed his hand.
“A lot has changed while you were gone.” He whispered. “But trust me, you’re gonna love this.” With that, he gave one last squeeze and let go.
He didn’t have much time to wonder what John could mean before the doors opened and it was time for them to walk in.
Everyone turned to them immediately, various looks of shock painting their faces.
Earving’s eyes were locked on only one of them.
“Wh– Noir..?” Kevin looked and sounded as if he’d seen a ghost, utterly baffled.
“That’s not another actor, right?” The one wearing his suit asked. “Cause I swear, I can nail this role. I just need more time, and some direction. I–”
John held up a hand, visibly getting more annoyed by the second. That was enough to silence the man. “Not an actor.” He explained, smile creeping back onto his lips. “The real thing. He’s back.”
He turned to Earving for a moment, giving his shoulder a pat that was likely meant to be… Encouraging? Friendly? Proud? It was hard to tell.
Earving hardly felt it, though. He only stared ahead, struggling to comprehend.
“Wait, does that mean I’m getting kicked out?” The other Noir continued. “I mean, if the real Noir is back, then–”
“Shut the fuck up and maybe I can explain.” John interrupted, sounding nothing short of exhausted, an audible sigh in his words.
“Sorry.”
Another sharp look.
The impostor went quiet, looking away.
A weight settled on Earving’s chest the longer he stood there, the reality of the situation sinking in. Had it really been that easy to replace him? That John could just grab the first actor he saw, and stick them in his suit? And nobody said a word about it?
If anything, him being here again seemed to be causing more shock and unrest than his absence had.
He forced himself to look away for a moment, turning his head to John and tilting it slightly in disbelief. Then he turned back, each movement slow and dragging.
The meaning flew right over John’s head, of course. A realization dawned on his face, eyes widening ever so slightly before he spoke up again. “Oh, right! Noir- uh, other Noir. That’s not your seat anymore, get up.”
The other one seemed just as lost, not that it was any real consolation. He stood, but didn’t really move beyond that, looking around in confusion.
It tested John’s patience, motioned with his hand for him to hurry up. “Come on, we don’t have all fucking day. Empty chair at the other end of the table, go.”
The audible irritation was enough to snap him out of his daze, and he quickly scurried to where he was directed.
Another pat on the back, and another smile that was beginning to fray at Earving’s nerves. He didn’t return the look John gave him, only sighing as he mechanically walked back to his old spot.
“I told you that I’m almost never surprised.” One of the new girls spoke up once everyone was settled. “But this…” She trailed off, looking between the two Noirs in curiosity.
Sage, the back of Earving’s mind idly supplied. She and Reggie used to be on a team together, he was fairly sure.
John chuckled a little, amused and probably a bit proud.
“What does this change?” She asked, serious in contrast to John’s blasé attitude.
“Nothing.” He answered, still grinning but at least giving her the proper attention. “The plan stays the same, we just have another person on our side now.”
She glanced between John and Earving again, clearly wanting more elaboration. “And what does that mean, exactly? We’re keeping both of them so that one can be tossed aside and do nothing? What do we tell the public, if anything?”
John clearly wasn’t used to actually being questioned, though that wasn’t a shock. He sputtered slightly before replying. “Well, if you’d let me talk then I could explain everything like I originally planned to.”
His voice and smile was strained, but he didn’t do or say anything openly hostile. Interesting.
Or it would be, if Earving could concentrate. But he was still a bit preoccupied. It was hard to care about whatever their relationship was, and whatever ‘plan’ they were referring to, when the elephant in the room was currently sitting right across from him.
He tried his best to listen, anyway. It was difficult to fully process, having everything thrown at him so suddenly.
What did stick in his mind made his heart rate spike, and his hands itch to curl into fists.
Earving was returning to his previous position, something he’d already assumed. But the other one was here to stay, at least for now. He would act as a backup, filling in for anything Earving was unable to do.
Nothing would be shared with the public, as far as they knew there was only one Black Noir. The same one as always. This little detail would only be known by the seven of them, and the menial workers within the tower.
(And, wow. Were there really seven of them here? It had been a while since the name of the team actually fit, Earving thought bitterly)
All the details and nuances of whatever the big plan was weren’t directly shared, apparently not terribly important at the moment. But more information was promised to him as things progressed.
As if he cared. Something about gaining more power and control over the country. Exactly the sort of thing expected of John, but not something he could bring himself to feel anything about.
Once the meeting was dismissed, everything was still for several seconds, as if they were all waiting for permission to move.
Kevin was the first to break the silence, leaning over into Earving’s personal space and whispering. “It’s seriously awesome to have you back, bro. Missed you.”
His head throbbed. He stood abruptly, chair squeaking as it rolled behind him. Without acknowledging any of the others, he marched out of the room and into the direction of his suite.
He was already so tired, and he’d only been awake for a few hours.
He didn’t make much progress before being interrupted, unfortunately.
“Hey, Noir!” John called out from behind him.
The gloves of his suit creaked as his hands clenched at his side. He didn’t stop.
Of course, that only meant that John stepped in front of him, forcing him to a halt. He looked genuinely confused, using his infuriating x-ray vision to search Earving’s face. “You.. You’re seriously mad right now?”
Earving didn’t even dignify that with a nod, only tilting his head at a sharp angle. You think?
John sputtered in response, trying to scrape together the words that would fix the situation. He settled on a nervous laugh, and then “Come on, you can’t… This is a good thing!”
He crossed his arms tightly, staring forward and prompting John to explain how exactly this was supposed to be good.
“Think about it!” He urged, which wasn’t an explanation. “You can have so much more free time now. Anything you don’t wanna do; meet and greets, grand openings, interviews, whatever! All of that can be pushed onto the new guy.”
His heart continued to pound in his skull. This was definitely going to progress into a migraine. With measured movements, hands only slightly shaking, he signed back “I don’t care. That’s not the point.”
John blinked, baffled and still failing to comprehend a thing. “Then what is the point? Why are you even mad, what’s the big deal?”
“You replaced me!” Did he really have to spell it out? How was it not already clicking? “You let everyone think I was dead, then let some stranger take my place like it was nothing.”
“I had to.” John argued. “If we waited until you were recovered, the whole world would’ve thought you were dead and started asking questions.”
“So? Make something up, you’ve done it before.” All the lies he’d told in the past, and he couldn’t figure anything out for this? Even reusing the secret mission to stop a super terrorist thing would have worked, surely.
“It’s not that simple.” John stepped closer. “If anyone saw through my words, that would have made The Seven look weak. Which would make me look weak.”
He felt stupid for even being surprised. It was always about John, wasn’t it? But that wasn’t even the worst part, the hole got even deeper.
“Besides… I needed some insurance just in case, god forbid, you didn’t wake up.” John added, almost meek.
It took him a few moments to even fully comprehend that. But when the gears finished turning in his brain, it was like a punch to the gut. Even getting his organs ripped out hadn’t been as painful.
His hands hovered in the air for a bit as he struggled to form any coherent words. His breathing picked up, tremors shooting down his arms as his chest burned. He stepped closer too, glaring. “Are you serious?” He asked when his limbs finally decided to cooperate.
John opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, or a defense, or something. He didn’t get a single word out before Earving continued.
“Are you actually fucking serious right now? You were planning for me to die? And–” He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “And if I did, you would move on with someone new like it was nothing?”
“It’s not like that!” John tried to argue, voice breaking slightly. Whether it was from anger or anguish, it was hard to tell. “I didn’t want you to die, I’m glad you’re still here.” He reached out, placing a hand on Earving’s shoulder, which was quickly shrugged off. He had the expression of someone who had been shot, agonized. “You’re my best friend, I.. You think I wanted to replace you with some nobody?”
That’s what he’d done, regardless of what he claimed to want.
“I can’t fucking stand him, okay? Every second he was on the team, I was begging for you to wake up.” Tears filled his eyes, threatening to fall.
Earving wasn’t especially moved.
“But you, Black Noir, are such an important figure of the team. You have to understand, I had to do something.” He continued. “I couldn’t let people just start speculating, and questioning me, and— Hey, wait!”
He’d heard enough. He pushed past John, ignoring the way the other called for him, and pleaded with him to stop and listen.
By the time he returned to his suite, it was like his head was splitting in two. He locked the door, threw off his armor, and collapsed onto the bed.
It had been recently slept in, the blankets already in disarray. Of course, what else should he have expected at this point? Obviously they would give away his room on top of everything else, too.
His breath came in quick bursts, every inhale was a fight. One he didn’t have the energy for.
He curled onto his side, into a little ball. His vision blurred, wet spots staining his mask as he coughed and shook. His hands gripped the sheets in a futile attempt to ground himself.
He shut his eyes tight, every bit of light and movement like an icepick in his brain.
Only one thought made it through the haze in his head; why? Why did he have to wake up? Why had he recovered? What was the point of any of it? It was painfully obvious how he wasn’t wanted or valued in the slightest.
Back before things had gone awry, before he had returned, Earving had hoped that John taking over the company would change things. That he’d be listened to more. After all, his closest friend was in charge. That had to mean something, right?
What a joke. He should have known better than to let himself hope for anything. The situation he was stuck in now was a reminder of that.