AN: So here's the thing, I was looking over the story and realized I wouldn't be able to fold this into the characters actual introductory interlude like I want to do with the other one. But I really, really like this one and I didn't want to let it rot in the vault like most of the other stuff I write so I'm posting it as a non canon chapter. Enjoy.
Amelia Dallon, Amy for short, was tired. Which she considered an understatement. She felt as if exhaustion and despondency had combined in some unholy union to create whatever emotional hell she found herself in. She remembered when she first got her power. She was so happy to be able to heal her sister. She was even happy to work simply for the appreciation of those she helped. Then Carol started her ribbing. Carol had never liked her, and for the longest time she had no idea why. When Amy had gotten her powers and started working at the hospital it was always Carol with that sickly sweet voice whispering doubt into her ear. "Are you sure you didn't miss something?" she'd ask after it was too late to check. It was always something with that woman. It wasn't until she overheard a conversation between her and Aunt Sarah that she finally realized why Carol seemed to hate her so much.
She was the daughter of a villain. Apparently a vicious one if Carol was to be believed, though she probably wasn't. The realization had sent her into a downward spiral she had never recovered from. On top of the stress of constantly being called on to help people, Carol's undermining, her own insecurities about her sexuality and attraction to her sister, her long term lack of sleep and personal time degrading her mind, and the constant worry that she would be sent to the Birdcage if the true nature of her powers got out, she now had to deal with the anxiety that came with knowing her father was a villain and doing everything she could to avoid making even the slightest mistake that might make Carol send her packing. A smaller voice in the back of her head said the only reason it hadn't happened yet, and why Carol wouldn't attempt to kill her if she did display any slightly villainous thoughts, was that she was more useful to the world alive than dead. Even with the easy parallels between her and Bonesaw and Nilbog she was far more useful an asset than they could afford to lose.
She knew that, rationally. But anxiety was rarely rational. So the worry of what could happen if people realized the true length of her powers was constant. She had nightmares about it. About her family turning on her. About Carol trying to kill her. About what she'd do if she screwed up and had to go on the run.
"You feeling okay, Panacea?" She was snapped from her thoughts by a nurse.
"Yeah, just tired. What time is it?" She asked.
"Almost eleven. Are you gonna head home soon?"
"I'll do a few more before I leave."
"Alright. Some people in Emergency and ICU got caught in the middle of a cape fight. You should focus on them. We can handle the smaller stuff."
"Thanks." She gave a weak smile.
Navigating the white hallways and color coded lines of the hospital was second nature at this point. She spent so much time in these halls that she'd even managed to get from area to area half asleep before, waking up at her destination with no memory of having walked there. She stepped into the Emergency room and found chaos. Doctors and nurses moving around like bees, the sounds of pain and machinery, medical codes being shouted out as carts where moved to keep people alive. She could only imagine the injuries that had been moved up to the ICU.
"What happened?" Amy asked a passing nurse.
"Oh, thank God. Panacea, it's bad. Oni Lee got into a fight with Hookwolf and Storm Tiger on the edge of ABB territory. There was a lot of collateral. We've got some of the more stable cases moved up, but we're swamped right now. Just about everyone can use your help."
"Got it."
She moved to the first room and stepped into the curtain to find a nurse helping a patient impaled with some of Hookwolf's blades. One of his arms was dangling off by a tendon and his torso was covered in smeared blood as the Nurse tried to get him on some pain killers and start working. This was the part of the job she hated the most. All the blood and viscera, all the gore. She'd been exposed to some of the worst injuries people could possibly ever get on a frequent basis since she got her power at 13. She'd regrown limbs lost in explosions or shredded by Hookwolf. She'd healed people with holes through their torso large enough she could see clear through them. She'd even managed to fix a guy was bisected at the waist during a motorcycle accident. There was even the time she'd fixed a guys face after it was split in half. The sound of his breathing still haunted her. Children just weren't meant to see that kind of shit. She had enough on her plate without getting PTSD from all the horrific injuries she'd seen and healed.
She made eye contact with the nurse as she walked forward towards the patient. The mans relief was visible in his face.
"Do I have permission to heal you?" Amy asked the man.
"Yeah, please." He said through pained gasps.
She placed her hand on him winced. The guy was lucky he was even awake with all that damage. She started reconnecting muscles and fixing organs. It took no effort on her part and took maybe a minute in total to heal him.
"Thank you so much. I really appreciate it." The man said.
She nodded.
She was so tired. She was so far beyond caring. The more she healed the less she'd seen her patients as people. They were just voices lost in the fog. She didn't even know how many times she'd been thanked for her work. How many times she'd been told she was appreciated. How many families cried when she fixed their mothers Stage 4 Lung Cancer. She didn't feel the satisfaction of it any more. If anything she hated her work. She just wanted some time to herself for a little while.
She moved the next room, a patient had her legs blown off. She asked a nurse to bring some biomass, anything, so she could get to work.
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
It was something she added to her routine after Carol pointed out using her power without verbal consent could be considered "Assault with a Parahuman Ability" under just about any other circumstance. If she had verbal consent, or the consent of next of kin, then everything was good as far as she knew. She'd probably spoken that one sentence more than anything else she'd ever said. It was just word-vomit to her at this point. A meaningless line of words that bled together until she stopped hearing herself say them.
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Amy?"
"Huh?"
"You okay, Ames?" Vicky asked, floating just in front of her.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You sure? You look really out of it."
"I'm fine. Just tired. Do you know what time it is?"
"Eleven thirty."
How had that happened? She knew things started to blend together when she got caught up in her work, but she'd never just lost a whole half hour before. If she wasn't on the verge of blacking out she'd be worried she may have made a mistake. Though at this point she knew she didn't. She never did. She knew the human body to well to make a mistake. So well that even on autopilot she'd never once made a mistake. But that didn't stop the worry.
"You ready to go?"
"Home?"
"Where else? It's a bit late to go do anything else. We do have school tomorrow."
"Right." She said.
Amy usually tried to enjoy her flights with her sister. It was the only time she could be close to her the way she wanted. She knew it would never happen, Vicky didn't like girls and there was the caveat they were sisters, adopted sisters but sisters none the less. Vicky was hot, she definitely wasn't going to deny that, but what really elevated the girl was her aura. The ability to make people fear or love her as a Master/Shaker effect was ever present and bashed into Amy's brain like a hammer on an anvil.
"We're home. Time to get some sleep." Vicky said as she gently placed Amy on the ground.
"Yeah," Amy yawned, "Time to sleep."
The girls walked up to their rooms in general silence, giving each other the cursory "Goodnight" before going into their rooms.
It was as Amy took off her costume that she realized something was wrong.
"What the fuck?" She asked herself quietly. On her right forearm was the number "2" in black. It looked like a tattoo and she probably would have remembered getting a tattoo, especially of a number, on her arm. She wasn't that out of it.
While she examined the number she felt something deep within. Like a shiver, but it was her soul instead of her body.
Drawing a finger across the air, she watched in detached curiosity as the air split apart like teeth to reveal a dark hole. She stared at it for a long few seconds before making her decision.
"I had better get some answers out of this." She said as she stepped into the hole.