So after you escaped, everything changed.

You weren’t just gone anymore.

You were missing. Officially unaccounted for. And in SDN terms, that meant something else entirely. A target. Someone they needed to retrieve, contain, or “resolve,” depending on who was talking.

Which made things complicated.

Especially for Sonar. Especially when you were still married to him.

Technically secret. Practically impossible. And now, painfully distant.

Because while the organization was now technically supposed to treat you like a priority case… he knew better. He knew exactly what you were. He knew exactly what you had done to get away. And more importantly, he knew what you’d risked just to make sure he didn’t get pulled down with you.

So when you vanished, he didn’t report what he knew.

He just… let you go.

Quietly.

And now he missed you more than he’d ever admit out loud.

At first, he thought you were gone for real. That maybe you’d finally gotten far enough away to disappear completely. But then the photos started showing up.

Polaroids.

Always unexpected. Always timed too perfectly to feel like coincidence.

You in small, ordinary moments. A hand-written note on the back every time.

“I hope you’re behaving while being a hero.”

“Tell Malevola I said hi. I miss her attitude.”

Nothing overt. Nothing traceable. Nothing that would get either of you caught.

But enough.

Enough to remind him you were still out there. Still watching. Still thinking about him.

It started to feel less like distance… and more like communication.

Like you were still with him, just unseen.

And then came the last one.

It was still you in the photo. Nothing unusual at first glance. But then he noticed it. The framing. The angle. The deliberate shift just enough to show what was behind you.

A wall.

A faded, familiar structure logo partially visible in the background.

An old SDN backroom

It wasn’t an accident.

It was an address without words.

A direction.

An invitation.

And he understood immediately.

That night, when the system was quiet and no one was watching his movements closely enough to question them, he moved.

No alarms. No announcement. No permission.

Just him slipping out of sight and following the one trail you’d left that only he would recognize for what it really was.

And once he finally found the room, he open it only to slip on and immediately close it behind him.