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“Nothing yet, sir.” The nurse answered before I even asked my question, the same one I’d been asking for hours, and on some level I appreciated the efficiency of it. “We’re still waiting for—”
In such a high stress job, being able to foresee the sort of challenges you’d face and come up with countermeasures was…well, it was pretty similar to my own work. Admittedly, mine was more about causing and stopping violence than cleaning up after it, but the similarities were there. If it weren’t for our circumstances, I might have tried to speak to her about it.
But this night nurse didn’t seem to be enjoying our conversations thus far, from what I could tell.
Given that I kept demanding answers she couldn’t give, perhaps that was mostly my fault.
Maybe there was some way to make it up to her, improve our relationship?
I also needed some way to apologize for ignoring her while she—
“—sir?” I blinked, then nodded as she repeated herself, just as she’d been doing all night. “We’re waiting for word from the surgery team. As soon as they have something conclusive, they’ll let me know. When that happens, I will tell you. Until then, please wait.”
I nodded, closing my eyes and trying not to let my annoyance show on my face.
She didn’t deserve this sort of treatment, not for doing her job.
Besides, she had no way of knowing…
That I hated waiting.
Waiting was for people who couldn’t do things.
People who thought they were incapable of changing the world, and instead preferred to sit back and let the world change for them. The sort who failed once and assumed that every consecutive attempt would end up the same, so they preferred to let someone else handle it.
But I was that someone else, and had spent years doing things everyone thought impossible.
My entire career had been built on the fact that I knew that nothing was truly impossible!
You just had to keep trying , improving in tiny iterations, always moving forward!
Never stop, never take no for an answer, and definitely never look back.
Because if you looked back, then regrets and failures would—
“Sir?” I started, slowly blinking at the nurse. “Are you okay?”
Ah. I was still in the waiting room. Must have dozed off.
Sleeping while standing up. How embarrassing.
Usually needed my armor to do that.
…I should probably sit down.
I sighed, muttering thanks that fell woefully short of what she deserved for putting up with people like me, and trudged back to my seat. I’d made a nest in one corner of the waiting room, with my laptop, some books, coffee, and a pillow.
It wasn’t quite my workshop, but then again I wasn’t here as Armsmaster , heroic tinker leader of the Protectorate ENE.
No, I was here as Colin Wallis , PRT Tech Specialist who’d flown in on a red-eye flight and really needed to sleep.
Except that I couldn’t sleep until I knew that everyone was okay, and nobody was telling me anything.
Thus, I kept shifting my attention to avoid letting the what-ifs lead me down dark rabbit holes.
Because there were so many things that could go wrong in brain surgery, and it scared me.
But what scared me most was the unknown, and my job was all about exploration.
Finding new solutions to impossible problems, helping heroes rise above them.
Except that medicine wasn’t my field, and now I was powerless to help.
I could build a device that might help, but then I’d have to leave.
If I was going to have to say goodbye, I wanted to be here.
I hadn’t said goodbye last time, and now if he died—
Oh god, why did I just think that?
“Colin?” I looked up to see an elderly man in hospital scrubs, one arm in a sling and several bruises spread across his face and body. He looked and sounded familiar, but lack of sleep and food were slowing my mind in unfortunate ways. “Ah, I thought that might be you. Dear boy, you look simply horrible! Have you been afflicted by some dark mystical power?”
Wait…there was only one person I knew who talked like that, even out of costume…
“Ambrose!” I was on my feet in an instant, exhaustion doing nothing to blunt my enthusiasm as I started to hug my old friend. He flinched, and I staggered back. “Oh shit, sorry! Are you okay? Let me call a nurse or—“
“No, no, perish the thought.” He waved a hand at me, then settled it on my shoulder and squeezed lightly. He was stronger than he looked, but was still one of the oldest capes in the business. Despite his reassurances, I still insisted on letting him take my cushioned seat, and joined him a moment later. “Really, lad. I’m quite fine, despite my damaged appearance. The sorcery in my blood will have me right as rain in no time, restoring me to a far more fitting form.”
Ambrose Aurelian was unique among capes, and not just because he’d been at it longer than most of us (aside from Legend, Alexandria, and Eidolon). Also, not just because he was a man in his fifties, while most of us ranged from teens to our thirties. Nor was it his theme, given that the Adepts also had that whole wizard shtick and claimed to know magic…
No, what set him apart most of all was that he remained completely in character, at all times .
It wreaked havoc on his PR team and security people, and even now I could see one of the latter lurking nearby. Much like New Wave, Ambrose made no attempt to have much of a secret identity, intermingling his cape and civilian lives.
One would have thought it might put him or his loved ones in danger, yet somehow he avoided ending up like Fleur.
Ambrose was a powerful wizard in costume, and a kind gentleman magician in his free time, without problems.
He was on magazine covers, did charity events with beautiful stars, and truly seemed happy.
I’d been his friend for years, and still didn’t understand how he pulled it off.
Although it was also a choice I’d considered on more than one occasion, seeing as how I spent nearly all my time as Armsmaster anyway. Add in the obvious similarities between Colin Wallis and his alter ego, and it was a tempting concept. If anything, it was a welcoming thought.
To take off my helmet in public one day, and let the two identities merge seamlessly.
I mean, it wasn’t like Colin had anyone in his life who’d actually miss him.
If he just up and vanished, would anyone actually lose sleep?
“—last time you slept?” Ambrose gripped my shoulder tight enough that I jumped a little, and turned to see him leaning uncomfortably close as he peered at my face. In turn I could see his own, and now understood why he always kept such a full beard. Without it, his face had dozens of little scars and wrinkles, making him look even older than usual. “Ah, I see you’ve noticed the theft of my whiskers. Quite troubling indeed, and likely the work of gremlins. Nasty buggers.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, even though Ambrose was entirely serious. Then he turned the tables and laughed at me, as my stomach informed him that I’d been avoiding more than just sleep as of late. The hand on my shoulder allowed him to stand up easily, and he stretched.
“Well, how about we seek out a delicious repast in this house of healing, and I’ll see about regaining my debonair appearance on the way.” He didn’t give me much choice in the matter, pulling me up before I could put up much resistance. I expected the nurse to stop us, but a smile and nod from Ambrose had her blushing and letting him pass. “Well met, my lady.”
Then we were walking down the hall, and I couldn’t help but notice a small limp in my companion’s gait. Never a fan of long uncomfortable silences, I brought it up as part of assessing his injuries, and he simply laughed it off.
“That one’s an old wound, from before your time. Back in the days when I was an adventurer, I took an arrow to the knee.” He paused, looking at something I couldn’t see, and then slipped into a nearby bathroom. “Pardon me a moment, just need a quick change of costume, my boy.”
The door closed behind him, and I couldn’t help but lean against the wall next to it. From inside, I heard the sound of cloth on cloth, then what might have been a wind tunnel, followed by something I can only describe as slurping.
Myrddin’s power, aside from flight and slightly enhanced physiology, was dimensional in nature.
On paper, it was access to a variety of pocket dimensions, but that barely scratched the surface of what he was capable of. See, he didn’t merely use this power for fighting villains, but rather had managed to integrate it into his very lifestyle in a way few could truly match.
Which is why I was entirely unsurprised when he stepped out of that restroom, with only minutes having passed since he entered it, looking far different from his earlier incarnation.
Gone was the elderly man in scrubs, face roughly shaven, a myriad of injuries covering his tired old body, and the weight of decades of cape work weighing him down.
In his place was the real Ambrose Aurelian, dressed in a bespoke three-piece suit, carrying a rune-covered walking cane, and looking like a million bucks.
His bruises were under concealer of some kind, and his injured arm hung at his side with only the slightest bulge where his cast was.
Ambrose had even grown back his entire beard, braided it, and had woven little stones into it.
How did he do it? Perhaps a dimension where time passed at a different rate?
Or maybe he had one full of makeup, clothes, and fake beards?
I knew if I tried to ask him, he’d give the same reply as ever.
Magic, of course.
I’d long since given up on trying to question his explanations, and maybe that was why we were still such good friends even after over a decade. He’d tried to teach me that it didn’t matter how you explained your power, but rather that what truly mattered was what you did with it.
I’d also learned that his life before becoming Myrddin had been troubling, and fully understood why he’d given up on it entirely when he triggered. He deserved to live his dreams, and had gained global recognition and respect as a result of them.
I was the last person who could lecture someone on avoiding a troubling problem. So if he wanted to call it magic and alchemy, who was I to stand in the way of his imagination?
If nothing else, it helped get my mind off the surgery… and now I was thinking about it again.
Great job, Colin.
Eventually we found ourselves at a lone table in the corner of the cafeteria, eating passable food while we chatted. Well, more like Ambrose chatted with himself, and I politely wolfed down all the food on both of our trays, doing my best to eat neatly.
But this pudding was so fucking good , it was hard to control myself.
“—and then Vortigern realized that the battle was truly lost, but refused to show his back to our army.” Ambrose was off on some story I’d barely been listening to, but I still nodded and made little noises to egg him on. Speaking of eggs, was that an egg salad sandwich? Score! “Luckily, I had just the spell to send him packing, reversing time so that his entire battalion backed right up and over the hills. The day was saved, and I retired to my tower to sleep. Speaking of sleep…”
“I can’t sleep until I know how Marcus’ surgery went.” It was only as some of the egg salad fell out of my mouth that I realized I’d said that out loud, and tried to backpedal. “I mean…I was here to check on you , and just happened to hear Marcus was in surgery. That’s what I meant.”
“Colin, you were surprised to see me earlier, and for the past half hour you’ve jumped every time a doctor walked by.” Ambrose withdrew a pair of overly-complex glasses from his pocket, perching them on his nose. “One need not be a master of the arcane arts, nor possess the fabled Goggles of Elvenkind as I do, to see that you’re here for him.”
“Except I wasn’t .” The words came out harsher than I’d planned, but Ambrose didn’t react in the slightest. Unable to look at his eyes through those silly lenses, I began cleaning up my eating space, trying to focus on that instead. “I wasn’t there for him. I ran away. Even if he survives actual brain surgery , I doubt he’ll want to speak to me. Especially after what I did.”
“What you did was…pardon? Oh, thank you so much, young lady. Blessings of Mystra be upon you.” I looked up from a particularly stubborn juice stain on the table, and saw the nurse from earlier getting an autograph from Ambrose. After she left, he leaned forward and intertwined his fingers, voice lowering as he spoke. “The surgery is complete. Marcus shall live to see another day, though he has not woken up yet. Until then, he will remain in torpor, healing.”
My mind went to the medical journals I’d printed earlier (until the hospital politely asked me to stop hacking their network), and the myriad of dangers that came with his particular surgery.
A part of me wanted to seek his surgeons out, interview them and review the video of their work, to ensure that no further measures would need to be taken in the future.
They’d been removing shards of bone from his brain, a result of the heavy blow he’d taken protecting Myrddin as a building fell upon them mere days ago.
If not for the brain part, I’d have brought Panacea with me, calling in that favor Carol Dallon owed me for going easy on her after the Marquis disaster.
But a flood of relief still flowed through me, and I began to stand despite Ambrose cautioning me to sit. I could leave now, and tried to tell him as much.
“He’s in the clear, and once Marcus wakes up he can go back to his team and friends, and move on with his life…”
I felt like I was in a dream, the stress of the last few days leaving me numb and listless.
“I don’t know why I even bothered to visit. He’s better off without me any—“
Ambrose smacked me with his cane.
That woke me up.
“Fool of a Wallis! This is a serious matter, and you would leave, now?” His cane pressed down on my shoulder, and I slumped back into my chair. Meanwhile, Ambrose popped up as if we were on a see-saw, looming over me even without his flight power. “Marcus is in grave danger, despite the modern medical marvels that surround us! He needs a power far greater than any can comprehend to truly recover from this disaster, and you hold the key to it in your very hand!”
“Wh-what?” I looked around, and saw that the cafeteria had long since cleared out. Even this late at night, the few patrons had apparently decided that something was going on that they were better off avoiding. Only the lone security guy was still in here, and he ducked behind a wall as I made eye contact with him for a moment. “Can I build something? I’ve got a few designs for devices to speed up cellular regeneration, but they’re far from prototype-ready...”
“Idiot! The power is not one that requires your hands, nor something that comes from an artifact or magical item. Rather, it is the greatest power in the universe, and doubtless the very thought of it is what drew you here in the first place!”
I blinked, mind racing as I tried to parse his words, my exhaustion making it hard to focus on his meaning.
“Think, boy! Once, long before we became friends, I told you of the greatest power . What was it?”
I tried to think back to the Protectorate Strike Squads, and meeting Ambrose for the first time.
He’d always gone on wild rants and told many stories, as well as helping us all grow.
Ambrose had introduced me to Marcus, calling him “a knight of similar mettle.”
The three of us had been friends, regardless of our powers or goals.
One time, Ambrose had told me of an incredible power…
The greatest power in the universe, magic called…
“Chronomancy?”
He stared at me, mouth open, and I started to babble a little.
“I mean, you always said that there was never enough time, and that the reason time flew when you were having fun was because it was a magical force that…um…” He kept staring, then smacked a hand to his forehead and slowly wiped it down his face. “Hey, you’re the one who said it! You always said Chronomancy was the greatest power, and that our time together—”
“What? No! Not…well, okay, Chronomancy is the greatest magical power, but I’m talking about the greatest power of all .” He raised both arms, a wind whipping through the cafeteria as his voice began to echo around us. “It has no equal, and yet so few have the gumption to seek it out…except for you, Colin. You have always sought it…and amassed plenty!”
This was a riddle, and I generally hated riddles. But after being friends with Ambrose for so long I’d come to expect them. Even out of costume, he was half confusing and half overdramatic at the best of times, even when there weren’t any people around for him to show off for.
“Okay, so it’s a power that I have plenty of, and not many are willing to even look for it…” I trailed off, trying to ignore the flashes of light and colorful smoke that had started swirling around us. “I’ve always looked for it…is it reputation?”
“No, but you should speak to someone about your thirst for glory, before it gets you into trouble.” He cleared his throat. “Those who are brave can never have enough, and those who avoid seeking it always regret their choice later.”
Electricity began to crackle around his hands, which I noticed were now shod in metallic-looking gloves. I’d made them for him back in the day, and they looked just as cool now as they had when I was nineteen.
“It is an additive power, and addictive in the best way possible! The more you have, the more you want! And as you grow more powerful, others will seek you out to beg for your instruction!”
Ambrose began to float in midair, placing his fingers on his temples so that the electricity made his hair stand up and wave around wildly.
“Think, Colin! Why did you come here today? What do you want more than anything in the world?”
“Sleep?” I sighed, and saw him slump a little. “Sorry, I haven’t slept in days, Ambrose.”
One by one, the impressive effects turned off, and he finally flopped into his seat.
“I mean, I really appreciate all this theater, but if you could just tell me…?”
For a moment, Ambrose looked so incredibly old and tired.
Then he leaned forward, speaking very slowly…
“It’s Knowledge , you fucking idiot.”
Behind me, a bunch of cafeteria trays fell over with a crash, but I barely noticed.
My eyes widened, my jaw dropped, and his words struck me to my very core.
“Great, now he gets it.” He rolled his eyes, sighing. “Why do I bother?”
I ignored his muttering, instead focusing my thoughts inwards.
The whole reason I’d become a hero was because my lack of knowledge had led to…a terrible experience that had changed me forever. I’d sworn that it would never happen again, joining the Protectorate Strike Squads so I’d always have teammates, support, and access to knowledge.
As the years went on, I learned more and more about my power, and felt stifled by my limitations. Tinker budgets like I needed could only come from a higher position, and so I turned to Ambrose and Marcus to help me rise even higher.
Soon I was leading the Protectorate ENE, growing in power and knowledge, yet never finding the answers I truly sought.
And just before taking that position, I’d chosen glory over the pursuit of knowledge, and had regretted it ever since.
“…when I heard that you two had been hurt fighting Faultline’s Crew, I dropped everything and flew out here.”
“Really? You don’t say?” Ambrose had produced a hot cup of coffee from somewhere. “But, why?”
“It was because I was scared. I wanted to know if he was okay. I can’t sleep until I know… ”
“I know an easy way to find out. Well, besides using Melf’s Mystical Mind Magic.”
I snorted, starting to stand, but paused as something occurred to me.
“Isn’t he in a coma? Maybe I should come back later, after he’s woken up.” Already, doubt was starting to set in, and I was a little glad when Ambrose groaned and dragged me along beside him. “Wait, visiting hours are over, and that nurse is already sick of me causing trouble for her.”
“You mean Bethany?” He pointed with his chin, and I caught sight of the nurse from earlier as she snoozed on a stretcher nearby. He crept closer, pulling a blanket out of thin air and settling it over her, then swiftly rejoined me. “She was actually the one who contacted me earlier. Said you were quite distraught, and that she was worried about you.”
I paused, then snuck over to the sleeping nurse and carefully picked up the autograph book that was sticking out of her bag. With a deft hand, I added Armsmaster’s signature to her collection, along with a personalized message.
Bethany…I hope that someday, I can be half the hero you are. Thank you for all your hard work.
I returned to Ambrose, a spring in my step, but soon found that he was finished walking.
We had arrived at Marcus’ room, and I found my hand drifting towards the handle.
But even as I grasped it, I still wasn’t sure this was such a good idea.
Luckily, I had a wise old wizard there to encourage me.
“Knowledge goes both ways, Colin.” Ambrose smiled, gently patting my back. “Even if he’s asleep, some part of Marcus will know that you’re here, and that you care about him. That knowledge will empower him, and give him strength.”
With that in my mind, I entered the little recovery room, and finally confronted my past.
Even several minutes after the door closed behind me, I was still looking around the room, admiring it piece by piece.
The machines were all top-notch, state of the art monitors keeping everyone informed of his status via ethernet.
The bed was memory foam, pillows and sheets hypoallergenic, since he was allergic to parabens.
There were fake flowers in a vase, because Marcus hated when people picked flowers.
The room was full of little reminders of the life we’d had, and I let them distract me.
Because I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, even when I stood at his bedside.
Finally, I ran out of distractions, and let my gaze settle on Marcus.
The man that the rest of the world knew as Chevalier.
Heroic leader of the Philadelphia Protectorate…
Without his armor, covered in bandages…
He looked so small…
So fragile…
Before I could stop myself, I’d dragged a chair to his bedside, wincing as it ground against the vinyl floor. He didn’t react in the slightest, a mix of drugs and an hours-long surgery rendering him insensate to the world.
Maybe I was just making things worse, by being here?
No, I had to remember what Ambrose had said, about how the two of us were connected.
If knowing I was here would give Marcus strength….I’d stay.
But the silence was killing me.
So I began to talk.
I was good at talking, and at first it was just standard conversational stuff. Talking about the weather, a bit of local news, reading some of the cards his friends had left, and even how impressive the cafeteria had been earlier.
“—not the best egg-salad, but then again they don’t know your recipe. I’d give it a seven out of ten, and if they’d used higher quality bread that might even get bumped up to an eight. Oh, but the pudding was just phenomenal—”
At one point I even talked about my work, mentioning a new gang of villains in Brockton. They’d actually just robbed a casino mere minutes before I’d gotten on the plane, and I proudly told Marcus that I’d left it to Hannah.
“—she hates being in a leadership role, but the only other option was Dauntless. I mean, it’s not that I dislike him, he’s actually got a pretty amazing power, it’s just that sometimes I feel like I’m wasting my time trying—”
I wondered what he would say, if he were awake and knew that I’d put him ahead of my job. I started to mention it, but it felt wrong, bragging about that now after failing so many times in the past.
That was one of the big reasons we hadn’t worked out. Marcus managed to perfectly balance his life as a cape and as a civilian, and for me…hero work always came first.
No matter how many times I promised to try harder, or circled a day on our calendar as Date Night , the universe found a way to make me break my word.
And the worst part was that every single time, Marcus just smiled and accepted it, as if he wasn’t as disappointed in me as I was in myself.
But I’d see him sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t looking. I knew how much it hurt him, how much he wished he had a better boyfriend.
Finally, I just hadn’t been able to take it anymore, and when the offer came in to lead the Protectorate ENE…
I’d walked away, a hundred failed goodbye notes crumpled on the floor of our shared apartment.
I’d never reached out, not even when we were at the same Endbringer fight. It felt…wrong.
He’d always seemed so driven, and happy enough that he’d never reached out to me.
For years, my work had been all that mattered, but it hadn’t made me happy at all.
And now, here I was, because I’d been too much of a coward to say goodbye.
Was I going to have to say goodbye? Would he ever wake up? Was this it?
“Please. Don’t leave me like this, Marcus. Wake up. Say something…”
My voice broke at the end, and I buried my face in his blanket.
It was what I always did, hiding from my shame and regret.
I was so tired of running, and of pretending to be brave.
So tired of letting everyone around me down.
So tired of failing the ones I loved.
So very, very tired…
“Colin?”
It took me a moment to realize someone was talking to me, and several more to sit up.
Ouch.
Turns out that sleeping face down in a hospital bed while sitting in a hospital chair is a great way to wreck your whole spine. On the plus side, I was already in a hospital, and I was pretty sure the popping sounds my back and neck were making would eventually summon a doctor…
“Colin? Is that you?” I blinked, wondering if I was still dreaming, since that looked like Marcus talking to me. He looked a little off-balance but was otherwise awake. “Did that building hit me in the head harder than I thought? Or am I just on really good drugs?”
“Both, as a matter of fact.” I snatched his chart from the side of the bed, confirming that he was indeed properly medicated. “Severe cranial trauma, successful brain surgery, and some rather amazing drugs. Also, I’m here, and if you’re still in pain I can call a doctor.”
“Don’t.” He winced a little, then more as he pressed a button that tilted the bed up. “It’s fine. I hate being medicated like this, so I’ll take clarity and soreness over the fuzzy haze any day.”
“I should still get a doctor, so they can give you a proper examination. You just woke up from a coma, after all.” I started to stand, but he caught my hand somehow and tugged me back down. He was quite spry for someone who’d just been in a coma. “What are you…?”
“The doctor already examined me hours ago, dummy.” He gave me that gentle smile he always used to wear when I was being a stubborn ass, the one that I never got tired of seeing. “I told them to leave you alone, even if you were snoring.”
“I don’t snore.”
“You do snore, when you sleep face-down.” He chuckled, then winced. “Ow, no more laughing.”
“Sorry. Also, sorry if my snoring woke you. Although considering you were in a coma, perhaps you should thank me?”
“It wasn’t the snoring that woke me up.” His eyes flicked down at the bed, and I realized that he was still holding my hand. I started to pull away, but he gently squeezed and I relaxed. “I felt like I was drowning, deep beneath thick waves of something dark and unknowable. Then I heard you, felt you grab me, and when I woke up…you were here. Holding my hand, and sleeping.”
It was tempting to tell him about Ambrose, but for some reason I kept that detail to myself.
Not just because it was mystical nonsense, or because holding his hand felt nice.
No, it was because I could feel the specter of our parting hanging over me.
I didn’t deserve to enjoy this, not until I finally apologized to Marcus.
After a decade of avoiding him, I refused to wait any longer.
But in a shocking turn of events, he beat me to it.
“I’m sorry.” Marcus met my eyes for a moment, then stared down at our joined hands. He reluctantly pulled away, voice low as he continued, “After you left, I was pissed. I shoved all your stuff in a closet, threw myself into my work, and tried to forget about it. I tried to forget about you…which was hard, because you were all I could think about, Colin.”
I nodded, understanding that feeling all too well.
In the months after we’d parted, I had tried to work on my armor. But every design reminded me of Marcus, and all I could think about was the armor I’d helped him make for Chevalier. That had inspired my own power armor, and he’d helped me build that in turn.
No matter what I did, the ideas he’d given me were built into my armor. It was impossible to look at it and not see traces of his sense of humor or his artistic talents.
Regardless of the changes I made, I kept coming back to the ones that reminded me of Marcus, and made me miss him even more.
He had helped make me the hero I was, and it tore me up inside when I tried to escape that.
Then there was the multi-purpose sword he’d been helping me make…
“…that was why I started working on the halberd. It was about as far from a sword as I could get.” I felt my ears warm up a little, admitting that one of the major symbols of my heroic identity had been created to get me over my ex-boyfriend. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say all this.”
“Communication is a two-way street. Do you remember all those crumpled goodbye notes you left on the floor?” He smiled, and now it was more than my ears warming up. “I tried to toss them when I moved to Philly, but ended up sitting on the floor reading every single one.”
I barely remembered most of them, but the general gist was still fresh in my mind. Mainly, I’d wanted to explain that I didn’t deserve a boyfriend like him. I was always putting my job first, and had such an inferiority complex that I couldn’t drag him down any longer.
But every time I wrote that down, it felt like I was trying to justify my decision instead of apologize for it. To blame our relationship problems on circumstances instead of my own selfish need to prove myself.
I just wanted to show him that he hadn’t made a mistake in choosing me. That becoming more than friends with me had been a good decision, and that I was worthy of his love.
Even now, as I spoke those words and saw his face crumple, I felt like an absolute asshole for never actually opening up before this.
I’d tried writing all of these thoughts on that very night, but on paper it always looked so…stupid.
Finally, I’d gotten fed up with myself, and stalked off to take a long walk.
But instead of coming back, I just kept going.
Because I knew it was all my fault.
“It wasn’t all you. No, let me finish.” He’d heard my explanation, and actually looked annoyed now. “I knew you were having problems, but had just accepted that part of you. It never even occurred to me to try and work through it.”
“Probably wouldn’t have worked even if you had.” I muttered, remembering how long it had taken Piggot to get me to attend mandatory therapy sessions. Even once a month felt like too much, but she’d insisted. “I can be pretty stubborn. I’d probably have made an excuse.”
“Yeah, I remember how hard it was to get you to pick up your used towels. But seriously, I still should have tried . Instead, I just kept putting it off, and when you left I blamed myself. I never even tried to contact you, because I thought you were better off without me.”
“I wasn’t.” My hand caught his again, and he smiled through his tears, breathing heavily from his rant. I could tell he was exhausted, but didn’t want this conversation to end. “That’s why I’m here. I was scared that I might have lost you forever, and I wanted you to know that I was sorry.”
“Great, we’re both sorry, then.” He winked at me, then used his blanket to wipe his face. “Only took having a building fall on me to get here. Good to know in case we ever have another fight.”
I laughed as well, and we fell into a comfortable silence. Usually I hated silences, wanting to fill them with words or some kind of activity, but with Marcus I didn’t mind them so much.
“So, what now?” He had to cut himself off to yawn, and blinked slowly as I reached over and lowered his bed again. “I mean, after I take a little nap, what’s next? Think you could get some time off, so we can catch up?”
“Already done. While you’ve been holding my right hand, I’ve been putting in for vacation with my left.” I held up my phone, showing him the staggering amount of unused vacation hours I had saved up. “Turns out being a workaholic is great for earning time off.”
“Wait, you’re actually using vacation time?” His eyebrows vanished into his bandages, and another yawn escaped as he snuggled into the blankets. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Colin?”
“It’s only for a few weeks, and it’s not like Brockton Bay is some kind of hotbed of activity anyway.” I shrugged, adjusting his pillows and pulling his blanket up. “If anything happens in the first two or three weeks of April, I’ll send Ambrose to deal with it. He was already telling me earlier that he has ‘the perfect bit of spellcraft’ to deal with the Undersiders.”
Plus, I was certain he’d have a fun time absolutely wrecking Lung or Kaiser given the chance. Hell, he might even manage to find Coil’s base by casting Locate Object or whatever.
“But right now, I want you to just hurry up and get better. Your team needs you…and so do I.”
“Glad I can always count on you to come to my rescue, my knight in shining armor.” Marcus mumbled, eyes closing as he drifted off. “From one knight to another…it helps me…sleep.”
“Don’t worry.” I took his hand again, knowing that one conversation wasn’t going to fix ten years apart. But it was a start, and that was what mattered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He could sleep easily, knowing that I would be here when he woke up.
I leaned back and dozed as well, knowing that Marcus was safe.
While knowledge may have been the greatest power of all…
Now we finally had time to sort out our feelings.
Thanks to the greatest magic of all…
Chronomancy!