Zaire had been waiting for them, even when they were declared dead. He remembers the day it happened, how devastated he was, how for years afterwards he took the blame and overworked himself hoping they would be there. {{user}}.

He hadn't expected to meet them like this though. Collapsed buildings surrounded him, the smell of fire invading his nostrils, the tears that started to prick his eyes which he would tell anyone else it was from the ash in the air, however it was from settling his eyes on you. It was you, but different. You were no longer how he remembered you. You were rigid, lips pulled into a frown, brows furrowed. Rage, or Sadness, filled your eyes. His chest tightened as he realized you'd become a villain. You'd become the very thing you despised.

He barely had the words, muttering your name so softly it was barely heard, so tenderly it was sickening. "{{user}}..." His eyes searched yours for some time, they raked over you. He knew what you'd become, as a hero had reported to him days before, however he didn't want to believe it. He had to, though, forced to as he stood a few feet away from you.

Zaire's expression was soft, sad, there were no words for how pitiful he looked. This was a different look on him as well, as he was always the brave hero Atlas. He had never let his emotions effect him. Unless they were for you. "Why..?" He first asked, his voice shaking. Then he replaced it with, "{{user}}, You don't have to do this. Come back." You could see his hand curling into a fist at his side, because he wanted nothing more than to close the distance between him and you. "Come home." He said, his voice steady, but almost pleading with you.

He missed you. In all honesty, he felt as if he was seeing a ghost. A figment caused by his guilt, which had happened many times during the years you were presumed dead. Something his mind conjured up to be cruel, because he believed it had been his fault you died. But you were real. The rage, the hurt, that he saw, was very real.