Mako's Message: I'm sorry. I just haven't been able to write. This was kind of a stream of consciousness thing, but I like the results. It's actually made me consider rewriting the last chapter of Only Her. No promises.

Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter.


The last month has been kind of a blur. I was running on auto-pilot for most of it. Well, maybe not auto-pilot. I don't know. I just don't really remember much. We'd come in from patrol and I wouldn't be able to remember what we'd done. Fortunately nothing major happened while we were out on patrol. At least, I assume nothing major happened. I'm pretty sure I'd remember running into the motherfucker. And if I didn't Dave would've mentioned it.

Don't get me wrong, I was paying attention, I wasn't distracted or anything. I just wasn't exactly focused on the task at hand. I was thinking about Jessi pretty much all the time. Going over everything, trying to find signs or clues I should have picked up on.

In retrospect, there were a lot.

I just didn't realize what they meant.

I mean, now it's pretty fucking obvious that her dad was dressing her. Or at least buying all her clothes. I should have realized with how uncomfortable she always seemed in the tight pants, and midriff baring and ultimate cleavage t-shirts that she wouldn't be wearing them if she had a choice.

And the pictures, dear GOD the pictures. I just...can't look at them without looking at her eyes and seeing how fucking sad she is. It makes me want to scream and break things and I just have no idea how I missed it. Probably because I was having fun with her and Angela and didn't see passed her smile.

Or it's because whenever I might have looked in her eyes she was looking into mine and, well, she was in love with me.

Even now it's hard for me to focus on anything that's not Jessi.

Dave has been really good to me about all this. He's let me talk about all this without judging me, and when I just want to be held, he's been there for that too. He's also been really good about putting up with me using him as a punching bag. I think I've given him worse beatings these last few weeks than he's gotten from people who wanted to kill him in the last six months.

Speaking of beatings, I beat someone to death two or three weeks ago.

Yeah, sure, "big deal" you're thinking. And it's not. Not really. I've shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, crushed, strangled and drowned people. But this was different. Just a little. I've never done it with my bare hands before. I mean, I've never punched someone until they weren't alive anymore.

I don't even know how it happened. I remember Dave and I were out on patrol, and we went to take care of one of the many, many, requests we get, which was just to chase off these guys who'd been making a nuisance of themselves outside this sandwhich shop and scaring off customers. I remember letting Dave go ahead and tell them to clear off and then...

The next thing I remember is Dave putting his hand on my shoulder and then looking down at the guy I'd been pummeling, and realizing that he was dead. And not just dead, I'd completely broken his face. I had literally destroyed his face. It was just...mush. Nothing but blood, skin, and broken bone.

My knuckles were bruised for a week.

I don't know why I did it. There was nothing special about him. He wasn't a cunt. He wasn't a rapist. Or a murderer or a drug dealer. He was just a guy. I don't even remember the fight starting.

I have no idea what happened with the other guys. Once Dave snapped me out of it he helped me to my feet and we just walked away. I thought he was going to say we should go home, or at least back to the safehouse. Instead he took me up to a rooftop and we just sat there. We didn't talk. We just sat there and watched the sky until the sun came up.

I don't know what I did to deserve him as my friend.

I haven't been on any of the superhero boards, or twitter, or anything since that night. For once I really don't want to hear what people are saying about me. They probably think I'm some sort of deranged psycho now.

Marcus has also been really good about this whole thing. He's been there for me when Dave couldn't be. And he hasn't said a word to me about that night. But when I woke up the next day, there was hot chocolate waiting for me.

Things with Angela are weird. Not, bad weird just...weird. We sit together at lunch, and during free periods, but we don't really talk. Actually, most of the time we don't talk at all. In fact, sometimes we'll call each other and then just sit there on the phone not talking. It sounds stupid but it's nice. I don't know why I don't say more to her. Every time I see her I can think of a dozen different things to say, and then she'll sit down, and we'll just eat our lunch and I can't make myself say anything. It's probably because the one thing I want to say to her the most wouldn't make any sense. I mean, what sense does it make for me to apologize to her for what happened to Jessi? It's not like she knows I could have stopped it.

Cameron's been pretty good about it too. She gets that we're dealing with a pretty big shock, and spent most of the last month too worried about our friend to really focus on anything. But life goes on and next round of the cheerleading competition is next weekend, so she's started pushing us again.

Fortunately, it's not like I've been getting out of shape. If anything I've been pushing myself harder. Just, not with cheerleading. I think I missed most of the practices. Not intentionally or anything, I'd really just forget there was practice.

It was one of the things Angela and I would talk about.

We should be fine though. Angela hasn't missed any practices, even if she's been slacking on her exercise, and I've never had any trouble learning routines. I just have good eye-to-muscle memory.

It's a good thing, this competition, really. I need something to drag my head out of my own ass and back into the real world and being Hit Girl is too much reflex, instinct, and ingrained training to do the job.

And I've missed too many assignments already. I miss any more and I might just end up getting some B's this quarter. Or, horror of horrors, a C!

Not like I'm actually worried about it. I know what I'm going to be doing with the rest of my life. But, not that it's ever actually come up, I know part of the reason he tolerates me being Hit Girl is that I've kept my grades in the top ten percent. I actually think there're only like, five people who have better scores than me in my grade.

Anyway, the cheerleading competition is actually in the city this year (It rotates, apparently, between the three states competing in it) so no road trip or staying in a hotel, thank god. Dave and Marcus both work that day and can't take me( not that I need them to, but ya know, gotta keep up appearances and shit) so Angela invited me to stay over at her house the night before and I'd go with her and her family.

It'll be weird, our first sleepover without Jessi. Hopefully it'll be fun anyway. I could use some fun.

I wonder if there are still ingredients laying around for Dave to make me another of those special sundaes. It's not like I actually got to eat the one he made me before.