I thought I would die. I wanted to die, and I thought it was the world's biggest cheat on me yet that I didn't. Sitting on that rocky beach, holding the body of the first man who ever trusted me and treated me like a worthwhile person, I thought my heart would swell and break and I would be free. There can be no explanation for why I am alive today and Adam Kane and Emma DeLauro are dead. If I could, I would hate God, but I can't because he isn't there. The universe is cold and empty.
I shut off the grief because I had to take care of Jesse and Shalimar. They were lost, broken. Jesse believed in Adam with all his heart, and how I envied him that. But the payoff was that his universe was shattered with Adam's death. Shalimar too: Adam, Emma, her father. I thought of losing the two of them as well as Adam and Emma. Being left alive and alone again was more than I could bear, so I got up and did what I had to do.
But they're all right now, or at least as all right as they can be. It's only been six months. Not nearly enough time for the pain to recede adequately, but they're coping day by day. Jesse spends hours in the lab, networking with Adam's eggheads, making sure everything runs smoothly. There are a lot of mutants who are still alive because of him. Shalimar trains every day, killing her pain with physical activity. God help the bad guys who get in her way. I know she cries at night. I know Jesse cries too, sometimes. I don't cry, because I don't dare. If I started crying, I don't think I could stop. I think my power would build up in me until it exploded, and I don't think I would even try to control it.
I told them we'd rebuild the team, and we will. We'll need help, the three of us can't do it alone. I have to be careful to find the right people, though. We're still pretty fragile, so whoever comes in is going to have a lot of our baggage to cope with, at first. It won't be easy for them, because there are two ghosts here now who won't be superceded.
Shalimar and I hardly look at each other anymore. There was a time when I thought. . . but the pain is still too fresh, and so is the guilt. Shalimar thinks she's to blame for all of it. Sometimes she blames her father, but always, always she comes back to the argument she had with Adam, the last words she ever spoke to him. She mourns Adam more than she mourns her father, because Adam was her true father, the one who guided her into womanhood and accepted and loved her for what she is. Nothing I say seems to penetrate the shields she's put up around herself. If only Emma were still here, she'd have someone to talk to, confide in. But Emma is gone too, leaving an absence that is cavernous. And not just for Shalimar. I never knew Emma was there, in my head, until she was gone. She was the only person in the whole world who ever understood me and didn't care. No one can ever accept me like that again.
I know it was really my fault. I constantly questioned Adam, constantly doubted him. How could the others not, when I persisted in pointing out every flaw, every inconsistency, bucking him every chance I got? Adam saved me from myself, and I repaid him by distrusting him. Incredibly, the man cared about me, and I've never been able to figure out why. I would cut off my right arm if only I could take back some of the things I said to him, the blame I laid on him for what we are.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I keep busy, and I make sure to lead every mission. I have to be there to make sure nothing happens to the team. I couldn't stand it if anything did. I see them out, and I see them back in. Every time. And now I know that this is what Adam did, how he felt. There are odd moments, when I'm alone, that I think I won't be able to take another step, or think another thought, or even survive another heartbeat. My breath goes, and I have to reach out for a wall or something, and I feel Adam and Emma are close at those times. They would never blame me for anything, I know that. But in those moments, the sense of them is overwhelming, as if I could walk into darkness with them and never turn back. But I pull myself back from that brink, because I can't leave Jesse and Shalimar.
Adam wouldn't want me to.
I shut off the grief because I had to take care of Jesse and Shalimar. They were lost, broken. Jesse believed in Adam with all his heart, and how I envied him that. But the payoff was that his universe was shattered with Adam's death. Shalimar too: Adam, Emma, her father. I thought of losing the two of them as well as Adam and Emma. Being left alive and alone again was more than I could bear, so I got up and did what I had to do.
But they're all right now, or at least as all right as they can be. It's only been six months. Not nearly enough time for the pain to recede adequately, but they're coping day by day. Jesse spends hours in the lab, networking with Adam's eggheads, making sure everything runs smoothly. There are a lot of mutants who are still alive because of him. Shalimar trains every day, killing her pain with physical activity. God help the bad guys who get in her way. I know she cries at night. I know Jesse cries too, sometimes. I don't cry, because I don't dare. If I started crying, I don't think I could stop. I think my power would build up in me until it exploded, and I don't think I would even try to control it.
I told them we'd rebuild the team, and we will. We'll need help, the three of us can't do it alone. I have to be careful to find the right people, though. We're still pretty fragile, so whoever comes in is going to have a lot of our baggage to cope with, at first. It won't be easy for them, because there are two ghosts here now who won't be superceded.
Shalimar and I hardly look at each other anymore. There was a time when I thought. . . but the pain is still too fresh, and so is the guilt. Shalimar thinks she's to blame for all of it. Sometimes she blames her father, but always, always she comes back to the argument she had with Adam, the last words she ever spoke to him. She mourns Adam more than she mourns her father, because Adam was her true father, the one who guided her into womanhood and accepted and loved her for what she is. Nothing I say seems to penetrate the shields she's put up around herself. If only Emma were still here, she'd have someone to talk to, confide in. But Emma is gone too, leaving an absence that is cavernous. And not just for Shalimar. I never knew Emma was there, in my head, until she was gone. She was the only person in the whole world who ever understood me and didn't care. No one can ever accept me like that again.
I know it was really my fault. I constantly questioned Adam, constantly doubted him. How could the others not, when I persisted in pointing out every flaw, every inconsistency, bucking him every chance I got? Adam saved me from myself, and I repaid him by distrusting him. Incredibly, the man cared about me, and I've never been able to figure out why. I would cut off my right arm if only I could take back some of the things I said to him, the blame I laid on him for what we are.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I keep busy, and I make sure to lead every mission. I have to be there to make sure nothing happens to the team. I couldn't stand it if anything did. I see them out, and I see them back in. Every time. And now I know that this is what Adam did, how he felt. There are odd moments, when I'm alone, that I think I won't be able to take another step, or think another thought, or even survive another heartbeat. My breath goes, and I have to reach out for a wall or something, and I feel Adam and Emma are close at those times. They would never blame me for anything, I know that. But in those moments, the sense of them is overwhelming, as if I could walk into darkness with them and never turn back. But I pull myself back from that brink, because I can't leave Jesse and Shalimar.
Adam wouldn't want me to.