saudade
noun
A nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost.
Fair City appeared to be, on the exterior, a generic town of generic civilians living out their generic lives.
As Becky flew overhead, that was exactly how her home seemed to appear. Below, people strolled through the streets, mere dots in her vision. Tall buildings pricked at the sky's fabric; cars sped through empty highways or thrummed uselessly in traffic. Her super-hearing picked up on hundreds of sounds – the ringing of a bike bell, the chugging of a factory machine, the chirp of birds huddled in a nest. Little snippets of conversations rung in her skull, too: parents asking their kids what they wanted for dinner, a pair of friends gossiping in the niches carved between alleyways, a disgruntled mechanic mumbling as he repaired a vehicle. Small, periodic things that fit into a normal routine and made up the patchwork quilt of Fair City.
Fair – that was a perfect way to describe it, really. Not fair as in justice or righteousness, but fair as in the way of measuring weather. Never overly cheery or sunny; never cloudy or rainy. Just fair.
Maybe, in another life, Becky would've come to resent the normalcy. Except it wasn't really normal . On the outside, everything looked peaceful, and that was because of her efforts. The bizarre plethora of villains that often chose the worst times to commit crimes disrupted the dainty perfection of Fair City so much that it was a daily expectation to not only hear about a felony on the news, but perhaps even see it unfold in the flesh.
Seeing The Butcher rob the bank, or Eileen go on another greed-fueled rampage, or Ms. Question play Mad Hatter with her victims – it happened so much that the citizens of Fair City knew how to wake up to destruction and shrug it off. They could pass by Tobey's robots dueling Wordgirl and the battle would barely take up residence in their minds. They could even be mind-controlled for a duration of time, and the best reaction would simply be mild irritation at being conned by Mr. Big for the hundredth time.
So when Wordgirl's most vicious enemy had first arrived, offering a deceitful gesture of peace and leaving the city in ruin, Fair City had been able to forgive and forget.
But Becky – Wordgirl – couldn't.
She let out a strangled sigh and flew over the polished skyscrapers, clouds parting at either side. Sucking in a breath, she drifted to the ground, her cape fluttering listlessly beside her.
Dr. Two Brains' garage stood over her. Hesitantly, she raised her gloved hand to the door and knocked.
There was a crash, something that sounded like the clink of a glass, and the rumble of the garage door opening. The doctor blinked as her form came into view. She gave him a sheepish smile.
"Well, if it isn't Wordgirl," he drawled.
"Good morning?" she tried.
He peered up at the sky behind her. "I hate to break it to you, but it's actually five in the afternoon."
"Oh. Right." She twiddled her thumbs. "Can I come in?"
He let out a dry laugh. "What's stopping you from just barging in, like you normally do?"
She sagged. "At least I used the door this time?"
"Huge improvement," he replied, and she couldn't detect whether he was being sarcastic or not. He strolled in, glancing back at her from over his shoulder. "Well, why are you just standing there?"
Wordgirl nodded, floating inside. The last time she'd been here for a casual visit was when she'd needed to (not-so-subtly) convince him to commit a crime so she wouldn't have to recite a speech at school. It felt like eons since then, and thinking of casual visits made her think of simpler times, before the botched experiment had led him awry, before she had to learn the hard way that just because there was easy banter and light conversation, it didn't mean he was Steven again.
She swallowed and tried to get herself together. She regretted not bringing Captain Huggyface with her; he always knew how to cheer her up. Still, this was something she was determined to do on her own. If she was being fully honest, she wasn't exactly sure what had led her here. Normally, she'd talk to Bob. Scoops had recently found out about her identity, and she could go to him, but she hadn't.
What did it say about her that she was willing to talk to her arch-enemy, but not one of her closest, most trustworthy friends?
"Wordgirl, sit down," Doctor Two Brains' voice shook her out of her stupor. "You look like you're having an aneurysm."
"Sorry," she mumbled, inching onto the sofa. Her body felt like it was fighting against itself. Part of her, the old remains that remembered all the nights spent chatting on the same couch, wanted to sink in like she used to. The other part – instinct - kept her stiff as a board. On the table nearby were parts for what looked like a ray, and even the incomplete version was enough to keep her on her toes. It was a harsher reminder of what their relationship was reduced to now.
"You're not one to say sorry very easily," he noted, tinkering with a hunk of metal scrap. She glared at him, but it was weak. Just like her. "Dodging another eager audience?"
"Ha," she laughed ruefully. "No. Uhm, just...thinking. About recent events."
One eyebrow rose. "Recent events."
"Mhm."
"You know," he said after a moment of silence, "for someone who has 'word' in their name, you're being awfully quiet."
"Amazing observation, Doc," she snarked. "It's just...how is it so easy for them?"
"Them?"
She listlessly gestured towards the dim windows. "The people. They walk outside and get their groceries, go to work, school...after everything she did, they move on ."
It dawned on him then. "Miss Power."
"I just don't get it," she said. "I mean, I'm going about my daily routine, defeating villains and sending them to jail, and she's gone now, but I can't stop thinking about it. Of her."
"Honestly, I didn't think it weighed that heavy on your mind," he admitted. "The way you handled her that day made me think that was the last we'd see of her. You outsmarted her – I mean, the look on her face when you told her the definition of triumphant?" He cackled. "Priceless!"
"It- it wasn't even my plan!"
"You said Huggy taught it to you," he recalled, nibbling on a piece of (probably stolen) cheese. "But it really doesn't matter. You pulled it off in the end, didn't you?"
"But what if I hadn't?" she asked, tugging at her brown hair. "She influenced me somewhat, sure, but I saw the reactions of the people I hurt. The Butcher, Chuck, even Tobey, my own -" she paused before uttering the word classmate . "She hurt a lot of people. I hurt a lot of people. I feel like I should've known that she was bad from the very start, when she made fun of Chuck's head."
Tear stung at her eyelids, making her vision blurry. She kept seeing Miss Power hovering over her after the villainess had violently plowed her through the Earth's layers. She kept seeing her hands ripping off the star insignia on her costume. Up until that moment, Becky hadn't understood just how much it meant to her. The star lay on her chest – she pressed it to transform, to protect, to battle. It was like Wordgirl's second heart, and Miss Power had torn it away.
Worst of all, she kept seeing those harsh teal lips yelling the same thing, over and over again– you don't deserve to wear this.
"Maybe," she whispered to no one in particular, "I don't."
She glanced up, embarrassed. Here she was, babbling about a threat long gone -
Panic struck her like a punch to the stomach.
Dr. Two Brains had left the table and was nowhere to be seen.
She scrambled to get up, pushing herself off the couch. She wondered if he'd decided to strike in her moment of vulnerability, if this show of hospitality was just a charade. He'd done it before, what was stopping him from doing it now?
"...Two-Brains?" she whispered.
"Here I am!" he sang, dashing into the room from a secondary hallway. "Sorry, I had to get something."
"Something," she repeated. "Cheese and crackers?"
"Hilarious," he deadpanned. "No, when the craving hits, I have my trusty vault of spare cheese wheels. I just needed to get some spare metal."
She rung out her cape like it was a washcloth. A wave of déjà vu washed over her at the carefree and ditzy behavior that reminded her so much of his previous self. When she happened to drop by his lab back then, he'd spin between different projects like a cyclone as she ranted, even leaving without her noticing to retrieve snacks or chemicals from the fridge.
Despite his business, he always managed to have one ear open at all times. "Did you...hear any of that?"
"Hm?" he hummed. "Oh, right. Yes, I did. And, personally, I think you're being a little too hard on yourself, Wordgirl."
"Huh?"
He dragged the bag of metal towards her, collapsing onto the couch and reclining back with ease. "You're ten . And even with the super-human strength and speed, you're still human."
"Lexiconian," she corrected.
He rolled his eyes. "The point is, you still get to make mistakes. You can't learn or grow without them."
"And if I make very big mistakes?"
"Then you learn more," he replied. "And you did learn, didn't you?"
"But-"
"Don't even," he warned. "Of course you didn't realize what she'd done. She was manipulating you, using your weaknesses to make you take her side. And she's rather convincing. In fact, I was a little surprised that you even thought about fighting her."
She peered up at him inquisitively through her bangs. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Miss Power wasn't just convincing, most of what she told you was true, wasn't it?"
Wordgirl had cast out everything her former teacher had said, afraid that she wouldn't be able to untangle it from her own thoughts. But now that she truly thought about it, despite how much she wanted to claim everything was a lie, most of it was based on a few granules of truth. "Yes, it was. She was -" she paused, assessing her words, " accurate in some ways."
"Exactly," Doctor Two Brains agreed. "I knew you probably wouldn't, given your pesky moral code and all, but I did think for a moment that you might just leave us all to rot in jail."
Wordgirl scoffed. "I suppose you should be thanking my pesky moral code , then." Her expression softened, and she brought her knees to her chest, hugging them. "I wouldn't let you guys rot in jail, you know."
The doctor flashed a wan smile. "It'd make sense. If you did."
She shook her head. "But I wouldn't."
"You wouldn't," he repeated somberly.
Somber . That was one word she'd never related to him. He was always so giddy and dizzy with mania, and it showed in his intricate yet ridiculous ploys. His appearance didn't help much with that either – bloodshot eyes and sharp red pupils, a stark mane of white hair that sprung out of his scalp like lightning; a bright purple bow tie that hung disheveled around his neck. Even so, the change in mood was apparent.
"I wouldn't," she said again. "I mean, if I locked you up, who would be my arch-nemesis? The Amazing Rope Guy?"
That sobered him up. "Oh, please." He tossed his hand flippantly. "Comparing me to him is an insult , Wordgirl."
Wordgirl shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. "That's why you need to stay number one."
"Aw, shucks. I don't really care about rankings," he gushed, batting his lashes. "Although now that you mention it, I am doing particularly splendid these days."
"Yes, yes you are. And even though you can get a little aggravating-"
"Just a little?"
"-that doesn't mean I'd just let Miss Power take over the world. She made a few points, but her approach was wrong. Definitely wrong."
Doctor Two Brains nodded. "And you're going to stop guilt-tripping yourself?"
"I wasn't-"
"Yes, you were." He insisted, gesturing at the symbol stitched into her suit's crimson fabric. Huggy had only re-sewn it on a few weeks ago, and while her costume still looked the same, she sometimes looked down at her chest, just to make sure it was still there. "I think you've beaten yourself up over it for long enough. If you're not here, who'll be my arch-nemesis? The..." he paused, frowning. "The guy who keeps saying he'll eat his hat?"
Wordgirl snorted. "Oh, no way ."
"Good. I get enough of his nonsense in jail, anyways."
She grinned, her body unraveling just a bit. "Thanks."
His eyes twinkled with familiar mischief. "Someone has to keep Wordgirl motivated. May as well be me."
"Hey!"
He chortled, hauling his heavy bag of metal over to the table. Wordgirl floated above him, curiously spectating as he pried it open. She gasped.
Inside were the crumbled remains of the statue Miss Power had erected of herself and Giggle Cheeks. When she'd last seen it, the sculpture had been standing where she'd first met her deceitful mentor. It was made of polished stone set over some kind of metal, and it had overlooked the apocalyptic scenes of demolished roads and defeated villains. Cast in marble, it was a symbol of the reign of terror that, while brief, had left an impression on Wordgirl.
And here it was, cracks forming in the rock, crevices splitting between Miss Power's victorious, crumbling smirk.
She trembled, either with shock or a sick sense of satisfaction. "What...what-"
"It's just as I said," he said cheekily, "Scrap metal."
"Where did you-?"
"It was kind of just lying there after she left," he explained. "And who am I to deny free metal? Even if it does have her face on it." He gazed at the statue's head with distaste.
Wordgirl guffawed. "Why am I even surprised..."
"Geez. Shock factor is so difficult to garter these days, you know. Once you've done everything there is to be done, poof ! Your enemies think you're..." he shuddered. " Predictable ."
"I apologize," she remedied, clearing her throat. In a shrill voice, she cried, "Oh, goodness! Where ever did you find this relic?"
"I wouldn't call her a relic ," he grumbled.
"Well, a relic is any object surviving from an earlier time," she defined. "Especially one of historical or sentimental interest."
"Sentimental interest? Never heard of it. Now, you want to help me melt this down?"
"Are you going to use the metal to build a ray?"
He gave her a sheepish look. "Are you going to give me free cheese?"
"No."
"Then yes, probably."
She sighed. "For the sake of wanting the destroy this statue, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. If you find cheese at your door – garage- step tomorrow, it isn't from me."
He grinned. "Now you're speaking my language, kid."
Kid. That was what Professor Boxleitner had always called her, since he hadn't known her real name.
It was silly to hope that, perhaps, somewhere in Dr. Two Brains, the professor still lived. Even though she'd battled him enough times to know that what had happened to him wasn't reversable, she still dared to hope that Boxleitner could push through one day, the way he'd helped her push past Miss Power and the phantom grasp she'd held on Wordgirl.
"Wordgirl?"
She blinked. Dr. Two Brains held up the statue excitedly, like a child who'd been offered a trip to the North Pole. "You ready or what?"
Wordgirl grinned. "Ready, Doc."