The train was late. 

He stood on the platform, staring down the v of the tracks as they faded into the horizon. A breeze tousled his dark hair, the first bite of autumn chilling the tip of his nose. He normally didn’t pay much mind to the changing of the seasons, but this one he was glad of; it had been a long summer.

He wasn’t alone on the platform, though this early most were quiet, still sipping their coffees or staring blearily ahead. Not far off a trio of women kept staring at him, and he could hear their muffled tittering. They were too young, and even if they weren’t, he wasn’t interested. If he’d learned anything recently it was that he had no business being in a relationship.

When the train finally arrived everyone crowded on. This close it was easier to pick out the energy of those around him; unsurprisingly he was one of the only elementals in the car. Elementals, as a general rule, didn’t like working in the city, where human development reduced the amount of contact with the natural world, but he didn’t mind; he’d never had that strong a connection to begin with. He was lucky to have his job, to do the work he did, and if he had to do it within the confines of a steel tower then so be it.

In spite of the hour, the streets were busy when he reached his stop, part of a throng of passengers disembarking with him. It was times like these, on crowded platforms, that he was actually glad of his height; for some reason people always gave him a wide berth, as if they found him intimidating. He didn’t think he was unnaturally tall, but he did usually stand a head above, in a crowd. The fact that he didn’t go out of his way to smile probably didn’t help, either.

His lack of visible friendliness didn’t do anything to clear his path once he entered his office building, badging in and then squeezing onto an elevator. Here the population was mostly elemental, only a few human, though the rules were the same; magic use was still forbidden on all except the sub-basement floors. It was safer that way, for everyone.

On the tenth floor, he squeezed himself out onto the landing, pausing for a moment before he breached his office's door. He’d been gone for over a month now, far longer than planned, and while his boss had agreed to approve his leave due to the extraordinary circumstances, he was still nervous about what he was coming back to. It had been hard enough securing this position.

He was reaching for the door when the elevator behind him dinged, and a woman with a tumble of curly dark hair appeared.

“Riley!” she yelled, heedless of the auditory comfort of her fellow passengers. She threw herself at him, and he caught her on instinct.

“Where the fuck have you been?” she said, pulling back and punching his arm for emphasis. “Dude, the wildest friggen' stories have been going around, did you really--”

“Tay, could we do this literally anywhere else?” he asked, his voice low. She craned up to look at him, her dark eyes intent.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “It’s all fucking true, isn’t it?”

“Hard to say,” he grumbled.

He turned and finally opened the office door, though she was hot on his heels. As he slunk down the rows of desks he felt the creeping sensation of dozens of eyes watching him. Everyone had heard then, clearly. Great.

Riley dropped his bag by his desk; the fact that it was still his desk seemed like a good sign. There was even a slender file folder in his inbox, proof that someone had thought to give him an assignment for the day. Maybe life could go back to normal.

“Mr. Decker,” a sharp voice called. He closed his eyes briefly before turning.

“Hey, Director Phelps,” he said in his monotone. His boss looked him up and down critically.

“Let’s talk in my office, shall we?”

“Listen, Director--” he began the moment he’d closed her office door behind them.

“Riley, what the hell happened this summer?” she interrupted. “I’ve been catching the news but I cannot get my head around it! Did your family really--”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And those humans--”

“Yes. But they’re fine now.”

“And your brother--”

“Director Phelps, is it OK if we don’t get into it that much?” Riley asked, slumped against his chair. “It’s just, the trials took forever and I was sort of hoping to not talk about all this, anymore.”

“Well… alright then, of course. Actually, that leads me to what I wanted to talk to you about-- after everything you went through, are you sure you want to be back to work so soon?”

Riley sat up. “Yeah, I am,” he said, feeling nervous. “I know I was gone for too long, but I still want to be here, I want this job.”

“I’m not taking it away from you, Riley,” Director Phelps said. “Really, I just wanted to make sure that you were OK. You've been through a lot.”

“Oh, well, it’s all over now. Everything can go back to normal.”

***

Normal was not in the cards, at least not yet. 

The aloof persona he’d cultivated over a lifetime was no longer an obstacle, and people tried to get close to him all day. Coworkers he knew didn’t like him sidled up to his desk looking for a quick chat; strangers approached him outside at the coffee cart, questioning him with an alarming lack of subtlety.

He did his best to stay busy, and by the end of the day had managed to work through several files; magical recovery wasn’t the most glamorous job, and being the paper pusher for that field team even less so, but at least he knew he was helping; every closed file meant someone else whose sense of normalcy had been restored. He could appreciate that now more than ever.

It was nearly the end of day when his cell phone rang. After a day in the office, he answered it on autopilot.

“Department of Recovery, Riley Decker.”

The line was quiet for a moment, and he thought it could be a spam call.

“Hello?” he tried again. This time he heard someone take a breath.

"Is this the Riley that knows Gabriel Reyes?"

He stared at the phone for a moment, surprised by the name. "I did--"

“Well, OK then, he's missing and you gotta help me find him!”