I don't know exactly how long I stood there, crying into Wendy's neck.
She never shifted away, never moved. Her comforting hand rubbed my back even as tears soaked into her dress. Our hands never separated, her fingers interlocked with mine, her thumb gently running along the curve of mine.
It was hard to think past the way my chest convulsed with each sob. It hurt. How I imagined gunshot victims felt, coughing up blood, each gasp causing more to gush out. The worst part was that it was getting all over Wendy, it was practically staining her.
There was still some part of me that hated the fact that she knew any of this. That I was putting this trust in her. I was putting what should have been something I handled by myself on her shoulders.
The rest of me squashed that down. She wanted this. I wanted this.
Eventually, the bleeding stopped. I ran out of tears, and my sobs slowed to simple hiccups.
We didn't split apart. She let me rest on her shoulder, getting my breath back. There was nothing left in me to let out. It made me focus on some weird things. Like the way Wendy smelled. Her hair smelt like strawberries, but her skin smelled like mint.
Her biology had calmed down while I had been crying. For some reason, my attention was fixated on her heart. It wasn't the same as listening to its beat, it was a clearer image. As it pumped, I could see the cells and hormones flow. It would be easy to focus on and see the finer details.
Wendy cared. Perhaps that was what made it hurt so much. She cared so much and I could tell she cared because of my power. Even without looking at her brain, I could see the hormones and the rest of her body. The only other person who cared this much was Vicky.
Carol never did, and Mark physically couldn't.
For a moment, there was an urge. It was the stupidest damn thing I had ever even considered doing. Other ideas were awful, terrible things. This idea was just dumb.
Why the hell did I want to sync our heartbeats so much?
It was time to break the hug. It was difficult though.
Letting out a quiet sigh, I let go of the back of her dress and pushed her away. There was a moment of movement, her muscles shifting to follow after me before she stopped herself. It took me a second to put together what that meant.
Wendy had always been a touchy-feely person, but it was hard to believe she enjoyed me hugging her that much.
"So." She didn't let it show on her face, just smiling at me. "You feeling probably not better, but less like shit?"
"Do you know the term exsanguination?" It was the best way to describe how… empty that left me. Everything was gone, drained out of me. There wasn't some yawning empty abyss like after the park that broke and flooded.
I just felt wrung out.
"Is that supposed to be good or bad in this case?" Wendy just gave me another concerned look, squeezing my hand.
"Good, I guess." I used my free hand to rub my eyes. All the tears had made my make-up run. "Just exhausted."
"Exhausted is good. I think. It means you're not actively hating yourself." She gave me a very pointed look. "We're going to talk about that more, later. Got it?"
"Fine." Normally I'd feel terrified of that thought. There wasn't anything left in me for that. "As long as we talk about the debt thing."
"Ahaha, yeah." She rubbed the back of her neck, a blush on her cheeks. "We'll talk about that… Let me go grab my make-up, you kind of ruined yours."
I expected her to pull away, but she didn't. We awkwardly stared at each other, fingers still interlocked, neither willing to break the contact first. When was the last time I had held someone's hand like this? Some guys had tried on those double dates, but I'd never let them. Vicky had stopped doing it at some point before her trigger, so it had to be years.
It just felt nice, and Wendy seemed to agree.
The blush didn't leave her cheeks as she reluctantly released my hand. The feeling was mutual. I sat on her bed as she ran to her dresser to grab her makeup bag. Putting a hand on my shoulder, she gently pushed me to sit on her bed.
"So…" She didn't ask before starting on my face with a make-up wipe. "You don't usually wear make-up. You do it yourself or?"
"Carol did it and my hair." I wiggled my nose as the wipe got too close to it. "Insisted on making sure I looked good. Didn't like how I usually do my hair."
"You mean a mess?" She giggled as I glared at her. "What, you know it's true. Even when it's not frizzy, it's still pretty messy. I like the ponytail look, it makes your face easier to see. It's a good look."
"Thanks." I'd have to wear it like this more often. "It felt kind of weird at first. Didn't really look like me, you know?"
"I get that. Always feels weird when you do something different." She leaned forward, a couple of inches between our faces as she squinted at me.
It made me squirm slightly, unsure how to describe the feeling such close positive attention brought. After a second she pulled back and wiped one last spot on my cheek, before nodding to herself.
"She did great with the hair, not so much with your make-up." Humming to herself, she'd pull out some foundation and a brush. "Could barely see your freckles through it."
"I think that was the point." One of the worst things about my face was those damn freckles.
"Stop it, your freckles are cute." There was a light touch as she started using the brush.
"No, they're not." It was something Vicky said all the time. "I've got about as much freckle as skin on my face."
"I've got just about as many as you do." She stepped back, quirking an eyebrow at me. "Are you saying I'm not cute?"
I blushed in embarrassment because that hadn't been what I meant. Wendy was a good-looking girl, it was impossible to argue against that. She was taller than the average, taller than Vicky by half an inch actually. She didn't have Vicky's figure, but she was toned in a way Vicky wasn't. Everything was lean, with muscle and just enough fat to look healthy.
My eyes trailed the freckles I could see on her shoulder up her neck to her face. She had an oval face, a button nose, round lips, and high cheekbones. Rather than the stereotype of gingers having green eyes, she had bright blue upturned eyes. Her curly ginger bob framed it well. The freckles across her face were just as thick as mine and stood out even more due to her paler skin tone.
"Should I strike a pose if you're going to keep staring?" She shifted a bit, holding her makeup brush behind her head and fluttering her eyelids at me.
"Shut up," I grumbled and blushed some more "They look better on you than me."
"I disagree." She grinned and got back to applying foundation. "I think they look just as cute on you. Carol and even Vicky, just don't really know how to make them look great. Just trust me on this."
"I'm letting you do my make-up, aren't you?" That just got a giggle out of her as she focused on applying the foundation.
The conversation died, Wendy faintly humming under her breath as she worked. The foundation was applied, and then he moved on to the concealer. Using it to help hide the redness in my eyes from the crying. She kept getting very close as she worked, squinting at me, and I kept smelling strawberry and mint.
My wooden bracelet was a good distraction, and there was something I needed to do. Wendy was at risk, and even if we'd figure something out soon, she needed something to help keep her safe in the meantime. It couldn't be too conspicuous though, which meant doing something more complicated than usual.
By the time she was done, so was I.
"See, I told you I knew how to make freckles look good." Grabbing my free hand, she dragged me up and out of the bed. There was some nervousness in her.
I saw myself in the mirror on her dresser and blinked. Instead of covering them up like Carol did, she had worked with them. If anything they seemed to stand out more with the little bit of blush she had applied to my cheeks. Twisting one way and then another to look at it, I glanced over and up at her.
"Well?" She had a nervous smile on her face.
"It's better than Carol's makeover." Her smile grew. "... But I still don't like them."
"Dammit." She let out a sigh and put her make-up bag back. "I can't fix that with a good makeover. I'm just going to have to keep telling you they're cute. I'm sure between me and Vicky, we'll get you to like them."
No way was going to happen, but it wasn't important. I grabbed her hand. She blinked and stared at me, a little blush on her face. The embarrassment was replaced with confusion as she felt me slide something between her fingers.
I stepped back and she stared at it, rolling it in her fingers. It took a little creativity to work around the limited amount of wood I had. The handle didn't need to be that strong though, it let me put as much as I needed into the blade.
She pressed the button on the side. The blade snapped out, covered in a layer of black At a glance, it'd just look like a normal switchblade. It probably counted as tinker-tech though, considering its edge was a single protien molecule wide… And the fact that it was technically alive.
It was really more like a cat's claw than a switchblade now that I thought about it.
"It won't need as much food as the pitcher plant, but it'll need something at least once a month. Pour a protein shake or something into the gap for the blade." I gently grabbed her wrist as she started bringing a thumb to the blade. "Don't touch it. I'd have to reattach your thumb if you weren't careful."
She flinched slightly and quickly pulled her hand away. Her thumb approached the back of the knife, and she slowly pushed it back into the hilt. A small click showed when it was properly reset.
"It's cool, but… why?" Stepping over to her dresser, she opened one of the drawers and dropped it in.
"Well, I still owe you a Christmas present." It took a moment for my answer to register to her.
"Was that… A joke? Did you just make a joke?" She asked me, staring.
"Just trying to lighten the mood," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "The honest answer… It's the best I can do to help you stay safe until after Christmas."
"Oh."
"It's not a lot, but, I just..." I stopped myself from speaking for a moment. What even was the point of giving her the damn knife? Did I expect her to fight off some kidnappers with it? Maybe it'd give her time to escape, but if they had their own weapons, it wouldn't work. It was stupid, it didn't actually help her at all, but the thought of her being completely unarmed…
"Thank you." She smiled, and then she was hugging me again.
This time I was a little more prepared and just reached up to pat her on the back. Wendy was never this touchy when we hung out before. Maybe she was just like this with people she trusted.
"Best Christmas present I've ever gotten." She mumbled into the side of my neck, sniffling once. Oh no, she was about to cry.
"Please don't cry." I squeezed her a little and hoped it would help. "We can't spend all night up here crying."
"I know. I know." She sniffled before pushing me away. "I meant it though. A hand-made knife by one of Brockton's greatest heroes, who's like, my best friend? Awesome gift."
"Power made." I clarified, a small smile creeping onto my face. "Glad you like it though."
Before she could respond, there was a knock on the door. I froze. Wendy rolled her eyes and walked over to open it. It was just Mrs. McHarlin, blinking slowly as she looked between us.
"Mrs. Dallon was hoping to leave soon… It's been a decent bit, what were you two doing?" She squinted at Wendy, who gave her a shrug.
"Talked, exchanged Christmas presents, I showed her a better way to do her make-up." I walked over as she talked, getting grabbed to show off the make-up. "See?"
"It looks lovely." She smiled at me before turning away. "Well, come on, Mrs. Dallon is waiting."
We followed her down the stairs, and I almost tripped over myself as something slipped back into my head. The entire reason why we'd gone upstairs in the first place was to avoid having any more people thank me. There was still a high chance that Jerry was still down there.
Wendy's hand slipped into mine, squeezing it lightly before letting go. She gave me a small smile, and I forced myself to smile in return.
The guilt was back, but it wasn't as strong as before. The anxiety was manageable, it had to be. Hiding away wouldn't fix anything. Wendy thought I was a hero, and I had to try and live up to that expectation.
Carol was the first person I spotted in the crowd, leaning against the back of the couch. Her eyes locked onto me as we came downstairs. Her lips curled down at the corners as she scanned me from head to foot. It made me fidget and look away. That was a mistake.
My eyes landed on Jerry. He was in a wheelchair, half asleep as he leaned on one of the arms of the chair. His sister was completely asleep on the couch, curled up with her head on her dad's lap. I glanced up and found the Dad staring at me. It was impossible to read his expression.
We got to the bottom of the stairs, and I broke eye contact with him. Carol stepped over, arms crossed as she looked at me.
"Did something happen to your make-up?" There was a subtle accusation in her voice.
"Wendy wanted to show me how she does her make-up." I met her stare with a blank expression. She shifted, turning to look at Wendy.
"You did good work." Wendy beamed at the compliment, and Carol looked back at me. "It's getting late, we should be getting back home."
"Just… There's one thing I need to do first." I stepped off to the side, ignoring the look she gave me.
Most of the crowd had vanished yet as the party wound down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emma, giving me a stupid smirk with a cup in her hand. No sign of that Madison girl though. It was easy to ignore her.
Jerry's dad watched me come over and gently shook Jerry's shoulder. He blinked a few times as he woke up, confused. As I crouched next to him, he looked at me, realization flitting across his face.
"Panacea." His voice was quiet. "I didn't think I'd see you."
"Sorry, Jerry." I forced my voice to stay calm. "There were a lot of people who wanted to talk to me. Took a bit to get to you."
"It's okay. You're a hero, heroes are busy." He let out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Were you having fun?"
"Yeah." Wendy smiled and gave me a small wave from where she talked to her mom and Carol. "I had fun."
"That's good…" He mumbled a bit, obviously struggling to stay awake. "Thank you. For saving me and Mom. We got hurt really badly. You made us better."
"I…" I gulped, gripping my skirt tight with one hand. It took a moment to force the urge to run away back. To shove the want to tell him it was my fault he was stuck in this wheelchair back into the hole it crawled out of. It wouldn't help him, and it wouldn't help me to admit it.
"It was the least I could do." It was the most honest thing I could say. "I wish I could do more for you and your mom."
"We'll get better." He blinked once and looked at me, really looked at me. "Mom's already able to hug me. Can't ask for more."
"That's great Jerry." It was better than I expected, but I couldn't help but wonder how difficult that was for her. "Tell her I hope she gets better soon, okay?"
"Okay." He leaned forward a little and whispered, so quietly I could barely hear it. "I hope you catch Uber and Leet. Might need a big wooden mech suit for it. Armor isn't enough."
There was a second before what he said registered in my mind. I stared at him, as he gave me a small, cheeky grin. The tiny talk we had at the park popped back into my memory.
How was it that the first person who figured out my secret identity, was a random ass kid?
"I hope they get caught as well Jerry." That was all I could say. His grin grew wider before he let out another, smaller yawn.
"Come on Jerry." His dad woke his daughter and stood up, moving over to grab the handles of his wheelchair. "You need your rest."
"Aw, okay Dad," Jerry grumbled before smiling at me. "Bye Amy."
"Bye, Jerry." I stepped out of the way so his dad could push him out. He didn't leave right away, looking at me.
"Thank you." Then he was gone, pushing his son towards the front door. His daughter waited for a moment, and I recognized her as well.
"I still have the flower you made… Thank you for saving my mom and brother." She gave me a quick hug around the waist. I patted her head, and then she was gone, hurrying after her family.
They vanished out the door as I watched. The guilt didn't go away. Who knew how much their family was going to suffer in the future because of my fuck-up. That part of me that wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away didn't go away. It couldn't control me though, I couldn't let it.
"Okay, I'm ready to go." Carol gave me a strange look as I moved back over to her.
We said our farewells and collected our coats. Wendy gave me a hug and a smile, and I ignored the look both Carol and Mrs. McHarlin gave us. Then we were out of the house, getting into our car. We rode in silence, seemingly both lost in thought.
I couldn't let it control me. Vicky wanted me to be happy. Jerry was hoping I'd be the one to catch Uber and Leet. Wendy was trusting me to act like a hero. It seemed almost impossible. Giving up and letting them down was impossible. So it didn't leave me any option.
"He was the one from Ridgewell?" Carol's voice broke the silence.
"Him and his mom, yeah." I didn't bother looking at her.
"Surprised it affected you so much." She sounded confused. "You've not acted like this since you first got your powers."
"Usually don't know the victims." It was the truth. There was so much more guilt when they weren't just meat. "So it just feels like…"
"You failed them." She cut me off, and I glanced over. Her eyes were still on the road, but she was frowning.
"Yeah." It was more than just feeling like I failed them. Not that she knew.
"Amy." A small sigh escaped Carol as she turned the car. "I've told Vicky this story before after she failed to save someone for the first time. I probably should have shared it with you a long time ago. It just never occurred to me that you might benefit from it."
"Okay?" This was weird, and it caught my curiosity.
"The first real serious cape fight I got into with Sarah and Mike was against the early Empire. Back when Allfather was in charge. There weren't many heroes back then, not many to oppose the Empire. The Brigade tried its best but it was just the three of us."
"Had to be rough." It made her snort.
"That's an understatement, Amy…" She went quiet for a moment before continuing. "We caught them trying to burn down a black church. We fought them back and managed to get most of the people out of the church as it burned to the ground."
"But not all of them." The point was obvious.
"Some girl had run off and hid in a backroom. We didn't find her before the fire got too bad to continue." Her grip tightened on the wheel. "We weren't much older than you are now, Amy. Niel, Mark, and Jess weren't in the picture yet, it was just us three, young and inexperienced. So we couldn't save her. I can still remember her mother begging us to head back in. It… wouldn't be the last time."
"How do you deal with that?" It was painfully familiar. "Not… being able to save everyone."
"Sarah always said to try and focus on the good we did. Mike always said we were doing enough by trying at all." She snorted. "Neither ever really worked for me. I just trained more."
"You trained more?" That sounded about right.
"I looked at it statistically. If I go into a fight, there's never a hundred percent chance I can save everyone. But if I trained harder, learned more, and tried again, I might improve those odds. Even if it never was sure, it was better than before. It was me taking control of things, in a way. The only thing I could control was myself. Do you get what I'm saying?"
"I think I do."
Whether it was some weird attempt at saying she got the feeling or actual advice to me, it didn't matter. It was just what I needed to hear in that moment.
Vicky, Jerry, Wendy, and Carol all expected the same thing. I just had to try harder.