CHAPTER 7: THE WEIGHT OF FAILURE AND THE BURDEN OF KNOWLEDGE
The journey back from 1975 Himalayas was punctuated by a palpable silence on the Waverider. The usual low hum of the ship felt somber, a funeral dirge rather than a hymn of exploration. Adam still felt the persistent ache in his chest, a dull, bruising pain that, while healing, was a stark reminder of Savage's magical prowess. His regeneration had worked, but it had worked slowly, struggling against an alien energy that felt fundamentally opposed to his very being. It was like trying to clean up a oil spill with a feather duster – eventually you get there, but it's a messy, exhausting process. He'd never felt pain linger for so long. It was profoundly unnerving for someone whose superpower was not feeling pain for long.
'Well, that was a wake-up call, wasn't it, Adam? Mr. Unkillable. Mr. Indestructible. Turns out, magic is your kryptonite. And here I thought my biggest worry would be accidentally offending a historical monarch or getting caught without pants in a time period that frowned upon it. Nope. Turns out, it's getting turned into a magical pincushion by an immortal supervillain. Fantastic.'
The infirmary on the Waverider was surprisingly well-equipped, a testament to Rip's foresight regarding inevitable bodily harm. Ray, ever the eager doctor-slash-scientist, insisted on running a full diagnostic scan on Adam.
"Your cellular regeneration is still working, of course," Ray explained, peering at a holographic projection of Adam's internal organs. "But the energy signature from Savage's attack… it seems to have temporarily altered your cellular polarity. It's almost like a counter-regeneration field, slowing down the process. It's fading, but it's unprecedented."
Adam winced as Ray poked him. "Yeah, I noticed. It's like my cells are having a really grumpy union meeting and refusing to work overtime. So, what, I'm just magically vulnerable now? Do I need to carry a warding amulet? A lucky rabbit's foot dipped in holy water?"
"Not permanently, no," Professor Stein chimed in, adjusting his glasses. "But it would appear your unique physiology does not confer immunity to magical or mystical attacks. An important lesson, Mr. Stiels, learned at considerable cost."
"Yeah, yeah, 'cost'," Adam grumbled. "My ego took a bigger hit than my chest, believe me." He looked over at Rip, who was sitting in a corner, staring into space, a half-empty mug of something that looked suspiciously like cold tea clutched in his hand. The captain looked utterly defeated, the weight of their failure pressing down on him like a physical burden.
*'He blames himself. Of course, he does. He's Rip Hunter, the walking embodiment of a guilt trip. But it wasn't his fault. Savage leveled up. We didn't anticipate it. Still, seeing him like this… it's jarring. He's supposed to be the perpetually exasperated, but ultimately in-charge, guy. Not the poster child for 'utterly broken dreams'.' *
Adam pushed himself off the examination table, feeling a bit stiff. He walked over to Rip, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Rip. You know, for a guy who just led us into a magical ambush and got us royally owned, you're looking a little too reflective. Don't worry, we've all been there. My last life, I once tried to bake a soufflé. The results were similarly catastrophic, involved smoke alarms, and left me feeling just as defeated."
Rip didn't even crack a smile. "This is not a soufflé, Mr. Stiels. This is the timeline. And I have utterly failed to protect it."
"No, you didn't," Adam countered, his voice surprisingly gentle, devoid of its usual sarcasm. "Savage got lucky. He got a power-up we couldn't have predicted. We survived. We escaped. That's not failure, that's a tactical retreat. A very painful, humiliating tactical retreat, but a retreat nonetheless. Now we regroup. We figure out what his new powers mean, and we find a way to kick his magically enhanced butt back to the Stone Age."
Sara, who had been listening from the doorway, walked in. "Adam's right, Rip. We learn from this. We adapt. We find a new angle." She looked at Adam, a flicker of something in her eyes. "You were reckless, but you were effective. You helped get us out of there."
Adam met her gaze. He saw the concern in her eyes, a genuine worry that cut through his usual self-deprecating humor. 'She actually saw me. Not just the jokes, not just the chaos, but the fear. And the loyalty. That's… new.'
He gave her a small, uncharacteristically subdued smile. "Just doing my part. Someone had to make sure we didn't become permanent cave decorations. And honestly, the 'defeat' vibe in there was getting a little too intense for my taste. Needed some fresh air. And fewer glowing red orbs of death."
Over the next few days, the Waverider was a hive of frantic activity, fueled by caffeine and a desperate desire to redeem their failure. Professor Stein and Ray were practically living in the lab, poring over ancient texts and energy readings, trying to understand the Orb of Necrosis and Savage's new powers. Mick was grumbling even more than usual, nursing a grudging respect for Adam's unexpected durability, occasionally throwing him a gruff, unsolicited piece of advice about how to properly set things on fire (which Adam mostly ignored). Snart was quieter, observing, always observing, the wheels of his criminal mind clearly turning, looking for the angle.
Adam, feeling his regeneration finally getting back to full speed, found himself oddly restless. His usual pranks felt out of place. The laughter felt hollow. The knowledge of the future, which had once been a fun, meta-commentary on his new life, now felt like a heavy burden. He knew about the struggles ahead, the sacrifices, the betrayals. He knew about Snart's eventual heroic demise, about the trials Sara would face. He knew the general beats, but the specifics were hazy, like looking through a fogged-up window. And the thought that he could change them, that he should change them, gnawed at him.
'Do I tell them about Snart? Do I warn Sara about Darhk? What if I accidentally erase someone important from existence? Or make things worse? The cosmic entity said 'ripples.' What if I cause a tsunami? Better to stick to subtle nudges. Plant a seed. Let them figure it out mostly on their own. Too much direct interference, and I might just screw up the very timeline I'm trying to save.'
He started spending more time in the library, poring over the historical texts Stein and Ray were using, absorbing information like a sponge. He wasn't looking for a direct spoiler; he was looking for patterns, for forgotten details, for anything that might resonate with his vague memories of future events. He even used his telekinesis more, practicing in the solitude of his bunk, moving objects with increasing precision, trying to find a balance between raw power and fine control. He focused on sensing the subtle energies around him, hoping to better understand the magical currents that had so easily bypassed his defenses.
One afternoon, he found Rip staring at an old, faded photograph of a woman and a child. Rip's family. The one Savage had killed. The raw grief on Rip's face was almost unbearable to witness.
Adam sat down beside him, quietly. "They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But sometimes, it just freezes you. Makes you forget why you started."
Rip didn't look up. "I started to save them. And I failed. Again."
"No, you started to save the timeline," Adam corrected softly. "Their deaths, as horrible as they were, are part of Savage's story. If you try to save them now, you could unravel everything. And then their sacrifice would be meaningless." He hated saying it, hated playing the cosmic historian, but it was the truth. "The best way to honor them is to stop Savage. For good. So no one else has to go through that."
Rip finally looked at him, his eyes red-rimmed. "You speak with a wisdom beyond your years, Mr. Stiels. Perhaps your flippancy hides a deeper understanding of the temporal dynamics at play."
Adam shrugged, a faint, sad smile on his face. "Or perhaps I've just had a really bad experience with soufflés. And believe me, the temporal paradoxes involved in that were almost as terrifying as Savage. Almost."
He paused, then tried a subtle nudge. "You know, all those history books, all those legends… they sometimes hide the real stories. The forgotten ones. The ones that might hold the key. Didn't Savage have a weakness? Some kind of… personal history? A specific vulnerability that's been overlooked?" He hoped Rip would pick up on the emphasis. He knew there was something about a meteor, about the origin of Savage's powers being linked to something specific.
Rip frowned, a flicker of something new in his eyes. "A personal history? His immortality is well-documented. His weakness… always seemed to be the very meteor that gave him his power. But no one has ever found a way to exploit that." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps we've been looking at the wrong kind of weakness. Not a physical one, but… a temporal one. A moment in time that could be pivotal."
'Bingo. He's thinking. The pieces are falling into place. Just a little nudge. Nothing too drastic. Just enough to get him on the right track.'
Later that day, Sara found Adam in the observation lounge, staring out at the swirling vortex of the time stream. He was uncharacteristically quiet, lost in thought.
"You're usually bouncing off the walls after a mission," Sara observed, leaning against the doorway. "Especially after a loss. What's on your mind, Anomaly?"
Adam sighed, turning to face her. "Just… processing. You know, realizing that even if you can't die, you can still feel pain. And defeat. And helplessness. That magic Savage pulled… it hit different. It felt like it was trying to erase me. And for a second, I thought it might actually work."
Sara walked closer, her gaze unwavering. "You were scared." It wasn't a question, but a statement of understanding.
Adam nodded, a rare, vulnerable admission. "Terrified. Honestly, it's a new feeling for me, this whole 'vulnerability' thing. Turns out, being an unkillable, sarcastic walking meme isn't quite as foolproof as I thought. And seeing you guys, everyone… getting hurt. That sucked even more." He looked at her, his eyes earnest. "I don't like seeing my friends get hurt. My family. Even if we've only known each other for, like, five minutes in chronological time, you guys are… my family now. The only one I have left."
Sara's expression softened, a warmth entering her eyes that Adam hadn't seen before, beyond the professional and the occasionally amused. She reached out, gently touching his shoulder. "We're your family too, Adam. And we've got your back. Magic or no magic."
He offered her a genuine, albeit still a little sad, smile. "Good. Because I'm pretty sure I'm going to need it. This whole 'saving the timeline' thing? It's a lot more complicated than the show made it out to be."
She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, then turned to leave, a slight, knowing smile on her lips. "Get some rest, Anomaly. We're going to need you at full sarcasm capacity for the next round."
Adam watched her go, a sense of warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with his regeneration. He was part of something. Something real. Something dangerous. And even with the fear, even with the pain, he wouldn't trade it for anything. He still had a role to play. And he was going to play it to the best of his abilities. Even if that meant being less of a joke and more of a… well, a legend.