The skies were painted in sunrise gold, the breeze carried the laughter of unseen birds, and Nathan reclined beneath a tree that bloomed with silver-blue leaves. A soft flute melody drifted through the air, played by no one in sight, and a warm petal drifted down to rest on his chest. The taste of spiced nectar lingered on his tongue from the morning's wine-testing, and in his hand he held a feather carved from crystal, gifted to him by a woman whose name he already couldn't remember. But her smile had been nice. Everything was nice.
And then:
{The Shop Reminder
You haven't bought anything in 100 days!
You're totally missing out on today's deals!}
The number slammed into his brain like a divine gong. 100 days?
He sat up straight.
Wait… I was only supposed to be here for a day.
The wind stopped. The birdsong halted. The warmth that had been draped over his body like a comforting blanket thinned into something sticky, almost suffocating.
Nathan's heartbeat echoed in his ears. His eyes darted across the scenery that had enchanted him for so long—and for the first time, it looked too perfect. The mountains in the distance hadn't changed their shape in weeks. The clouds never truly moved. The flute was still playing… the exact same notes.
He stood up, a cold sweat breaking on his neck. Raphael? he called out mentally.
Nothing.
Panic threatened to rise, but he bit it down, scanning the treeline. There was only one person here he could ask.
"Lysara!" he called.
A gentle breeze swept in, carrying the scent of lotus and cinnamon. Within moments, she appeared from behind a bed of glowing marigolds, her long gown fluttering like mist. Her smile was the same as ever—serene, welcoming, absolutely unbothered.
"Did you call for me, Nathan?" she asked, voice as smooth as moonlight on still water.
He took a breath. "Wasn't I only supposed to be here for one day?"
Her head tilted in polite confusion. "Oh? No, not exactly. The one who booked for you simply stated you should stay here at least one day. And they paid in full—for however long your heart wished to remain."
Nathan stared at her, gears turning. At least one day. Paid for as long as I stay. A loophole so elegantly cruel, it almost made him laugh again.
"…Can I leave?" he asked.
"Of course!" she said with genuine warmth, as if nothing could please her more. "You are our honored guest, not our prisoner. You may leave any time you wish."
She raised one hand and with a wave of her fingers, a slip of parchment appeared—embossed with gold and humming faintly with enchantment. "However," she added delicately, "the one who arranged your stay did ask that you kindly fill out a short review form before departure."
She handed it to him with both hands, reverently. Three lines glowed on the surface:
1. What did you lack here?
2. If you had no one that you could call yours, would you stay here forever?
3. Is sadness really the only true seed of happiness?
Nathan stared at the questions.
And the wind stood still.
He still remembered the deal. The review needed to be honest. No embellishments, no sweet lies to make the place feel better about itself.
So… he started to think.
The first question stared back at him, glowing faintly.
What did you lack here?
Nathan exhaled slowly and let himself feel it—the undercurrent that had always been there beneath the endless pleasure.
"I lacked memories," he whispered, writing the words down. "I met people, shared smiles, laughter, stories… but they vanished the moment I looked away. I couldn't hold on to any of them. I couldn't build anything. And I missed the people I already knew—missed their voices, their mess, their reality. I missed being remembered."
The parchment accepted his answer silently, words sinking into its surface like ink into velvet.
Next line.
If you had no one that you could call yours, would you stay here forever?
That question hit deeper than the first. Too tailored. Too precise. It didn't just ask a hypothetical—it knew him.
Nathan stared at it for a long time before scrawling back:
"No. Even if I had no one left, I wouldn't stay. This place is beautiful, kind, safe… but it isn't happiness. It's a drug. A perfect lie. And maybe that lie could hold me for a while—but not forever. I want truth. Even if it hurts."
The parchment shimmered again, absorbing the reply.
Final question.
Is sadness really the only true seed of happiness?
His lips curled into something between a sigh and a smile. Whoever wrote these knew exactly what they were asking. And what I'd say.
He pressed the quill to the parchment.
"No. Sadness doesn't create happiness—it defines it by absence. The moment sadness leaves, the lightness that remains… that's real happiness. It's not born from pain. It's what's left when the pain is gone."
The final word sank into the page like a stone into water.
The parchment folded itself gently, sealing with a soft glow.
Lysara took the sealed folder from him with her ever-serene smile and asked, "Would you like me to send you back?"
"Yes," Nathan replied, though his thoughts were far from her. Raphael... He didn't know what had happened to her, only that he couldn't figure it out while he was still here.
In the next breath, he was gone.
The world slammed back into him.
He was standing in his living room, back on Earth—and for the first time in years, the air felt wrong. It was heavy with smog, acrid city dust, the faint scent of fried oil and burnt rubber. All smells he'd ignored his entire life… now, they felt violent.
His chest tightened. He gagged, nearly doubling over.
Worse still was what his magic sense fed him.
The paradise he'd been immersed in had been pure, perfect, seamless. Here? Here he saw microscopic particles of decay. Poison in the wind. Rust on metal. Emotional sludge leaking off exhausted souls. The city was filth incarnate.
[Emergency Protocol Initiating: Suppressing Sensory Overload.]
Raphael's voice rang through his mind like a divine bell, and the flood of sensations dulled instantly.
"Raph," Nathan breathed in relief, dropping onto the nearest sofa, "you're back."
[Affirmative. The environment at the resort had begun to influence me as well. I initiated emergency shut-down procedures to conserve core functions. Minimal efforts were made to alert you—Shop timer tracking, vital signs monitoring, and departure status.]
"Ohh." Nathan leaned back, rubbing his face. "Didn't think even you could be affected. Damn… we were almost screwed. If it weren't for the Shop's notification, I might still be in there smiling at butterflies."
The sofa, at least, was clean. He'd paid for that auto-cleaning service months ago on a whim. Good thing, too. This was not the kind of return that called for dust.
> [There is a statistically significant probability that the seller anticipated the Shop's 100-day inactivity alert and used it as your anchor.]
Nathan blinked. "Huh… yeah. That would explain those prophetic review questions. Feels like the kind of trap meant to be escaped—but only if you're really paying attention."
There was a beat of quiet before he asked, "Can you check me? Anything weird about me physically or magically?"
[Running full diagnostic… Complete.]
[Results: No anomalies detected. Initial sensory overload has been neutralized. Body condition: pristine. All previous injuries and minor scarring—gone. Vitality and stamina have seen passive augmentation. Willpower has measurably increased. Physical strength is now at the theoretical human peak without external enhancements.]
Nathan raised a brow.
[Additionally, your Magic Sense radius has expanded from 100 meters to 3 kilometers.]
Nathan gave a low whistle. "Well… at least it wasn't all just pretty lies."
He sat there, finally breathing a little easier—not because the air got better, but because Raphael was back, and the fog had lifted.
And he wasn't in paradise anymore.
He was home. Dirt, noise, chaos, and all.
"By the way," Nathan said, settling back deeper into the sofa, "can you check what's been going on here during the last 100 days?"
[Correction: You were absent for 101 days. However, due to temporal dilation at the resort, Earth has progressed by approximately 232 days.]
Nathan's eyes widened. "Fuck. Don't tell me… it's already 2012?"
[Affirmative. Current Earth date is February 22nd, 2012.]
[Gwen and Jessica have both attempted to contact you numerous times. Your sudden disappearance raised alerts, but after the Orian incident, most of the organizations tracking your movements have dialed down their efforts. That is favorable.]
Nathan rubbed his temples. "Small wins, I guess…"
[According to Gwen's last message—mentioning the trio saving Cooper and teasing that if you didn't return soon, she might start dating him—it can be concluded that the events of Episode: Undercover have already taken place.]
"Ah great, so that's already passed… what about the other franchises?"
[Supernatural timeline update: Lucifer has been released. Precise episode-level calibration will require further intel.]
[Marvel continuity remains mostly on track. However, the Battle of New York cannot be precisely forecast.]
[Greek demigods: No notable activity detected. Still no public disturbances or divine flares registered.]
Nathan let out a long sigh. "So Luci is out, huh…? I swear, being in a multiversal crossover is like juggling chainsaws while standing on a landmine."
[It is… a non-optimal stress-to-sanity ratio.]
Nathan snorted. "No kidding."
After a moment of heavy silence, he exhaled and shook his head. "Well. We'll deal with it when we deal with it."
He grabbed his phone and tapped Gwen's number. It only rang once.
"Hi Gwen."
"Don't 'Hi Gwen' me, Mr. Vanishing Man!" she snapped. "Where the hell have you been?"
Nathan winced. "Okay, yeah, fair. It's a long story. I was only supposed to be there for a day, but… let's just say the place was too nice. I kinda… forgot about time."
There was a short pause. "Sounds like the Lotus Hotel," Gwen muttered.
Nathan blinked. "Wait—you know about the Lotus Hotel?"
"Of course I do." she replied casually. "We actually got stuck there once during a road trip with Grandpa Max. If he hadn't pulled us out, we'd probably still be there sipping milkshakes."
Nathan smiled faintly and let her believe the misunderstanding. It wasn't technically wrong.
"So, what've you guys been up to?" he asked.
"Well, Ben's been working with UNIT this past week. Kevin and a few of the other Plumber kids we found are training with Grandpa Max. As for me?" She paused with a huff. "Demon-hunting while juggling college. No biggie."
Nathan tensed. "Demon-hunting? Since when?"
"Spike's been insane lately," Gwen explained. "More demons popping up across the globe than we've ever seen. Grandpa Max says it's not just some Hellgate somewhere—it's bigger."
"You know why?"
"According to an old friend of his… something big's happening down in Hell. Something old."
Nathan's mind flickered to Lucifer, then to Crowley, Azazel, and all the ticking time bombs waiting in the shadows.
Still, he smiled slightly. "Sounds like we've got a lot to talk about. Wanna meet tomorrow?"
"Sure. Don't ghost me again or I will let Cooper take me out."
Nathan laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."
He hung up.
After Gwen, Nathan finally turned to Jessica's messages.
There were more than a dozen of them. The earlier ones were simple check-ins, then frustration, and then… hope. She mentioned moving to New York, trying to find him. And then, in one message, she casually dropped a bomb:
"I've been trying this whole superhero thing… People have started calling me Spider-Woman."
Instead of calling her back, Nathan grinned to himself and stood up. "Let's do something dramatic."
He stepped out onto the roof, selected a form from his H-Omnitrix, and transformed into Homelander. With a sharp whoosh, he rocketed into the sky.
Raphael guided him across the city. [Target located: 16th Avenue, pursuing a black sedan.]
Below, Jessica was swinging through traffic with a fluidity he hadn't seen in her before, her body fully in sync with her new powers. She was chasing a car, and Nathan didn't need to ask why.
The moment the vehicle stopped and the doors flew open, Nathan shot a precise laser beam from above. It sliced clean through the hand of the kidnapper holding the child, making him scream and drop the boy. Nathan landed a second later like a meteor, sending the others flying with a single shockwave-powered stomp.
Jessica dropped beside him, her breathing steady but her eyes wide.
"Nathan," she breathed, and hugged him before realizing it might be a bit much. She stepped back just slightly, awkward. "Ah—I've been trying to reach you. I just… wanted to thank you."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about vanishing," Nathan said. "Remember when I said I'd be gone for a day? I got trapped somewhere and just got out today."
He noticed her flinch at the word trapped.
And he realized—she really understood what that meant.
Jessica had thrown herself into being a hero ever since escaping Hydra, using her strength to stop what had once been done to her.
"I get it," she said quietly. "It's okay."
They found the kid's parents easily. Luckily, he'd memorized their number, and the reunion was quick and tearful. Nathan and Jessica left quietly, neither needing the thanks.
Later, after half an hour of casual flying and rooftop-hopping, the two found themselves sitting on a park bench. The city skyline was orange in the late sunset.
"I really don't know how to thank you, Nathan. For everything," Jessica said, for probably the tenth time.
"Come on, Jess," Nathan said, nudging her playfully. "Aren't we friends? Friends don't keep count of thank-yous."
"I mean, I wasn't even sure we were friends back then," she admitted. "But you were the only person who was ever… kind to me. Really kind."
At that moment, Nathan's stomach gave a traitorous growl.
He blinked. "Okay. I just figured out the best way you can thank me."
Jessica raised an eyebrow.
"Dinner," Nathan grinned. "You're taking me to dinner."
She laughed. "Deal."