Chapter Text
Columbia University, 2011
Two days after a kitchen fire - terrified, alone.
She's curled in the bathtub, knees against her chest and shivering. The water was freezing. She looked at the pile of ice at the other end of the tub, melting rapidly in the water before her very eyes. She slowly raised a shaking, pruned hand and held it in front of her face. Part of her expected it to ignite again, for her fingers to become indistinguishable from each other - bathed in a bright, hot, uncontrollable flame that made her feel like she had found the key to a part of herself she didn't even know was locked away. It didn't, her fingers numb from the cold, trembling as she stares at them. She rose out of the bathtub, the air hitting her wet skin and sending a shiver down her spine. The fire inside of her wanted to unleash itself again - fear and trepidation morphed into passion (or is it frustration? She can't tell). She buried her face in her hands, taking slow, deep breaths. She needed to stay calm. She feared what would happen if she couldn't.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the sink. She looked at bloodshot eyes and gangly limbs and couldn't help but feel pathetic. Awkward. Twenty-two and she still didn't feel like she'd truly grown into herself - something Bizzy never failed to remind her of when they saw each other every blue moon. She could almost hear the scathing remarks that would be made at her current appearance - lanky and disheveled as she was.
She tried to remember how she got it to stop the first time. She had turned on the stove, watching the pilot light smother itself in blue flame before she was thrown back in a blast, orange embers dancing off her skin and a crackling in her ears. She panicked, opening her mouth to scream only for fire to tickle her throat. She rolled, crying until she found herself put out - not a mark on her. After the fire department left, she saw the scorch marks on the wall and wondered how she had been so lucky. She felt something tickle her hand only to look down and see it ablaze. She could barely feel it. The days following were spent either panicking (which made her ignite), curled up into a sobbing, inconsolable ball of limbs (which made her ignite), or actively trying to extinguish herself (to varying degrees of success).
She paced in front of her bed, stopping abruptly when she smelt smoke and looked down to see her footprints scorched into the rug. She frowned. In a huff she dressed - conscious to wear things she didn't care about. She grabbed a duffel bag in haste and ran out the door, slamming it behind her.
The court was empty - convenient for her, at least. She found the nearest machine and turned it on - a ball shooting out as she walked over to her side of the net - she watched it bounce once, twice, before hitting the chain-link fence and rolling away in the other direction. She twisted the racket in her hand and braced herself. The ball shot out of the machine, flying straight for her over the net; she let it bounce once before she swung and watched the ball soar through the air. She formed a rhythm - forehand, wait, adjust, backhand, wait, adjust, volley. Her thoughts stopped - no words, no feelings, no fire, just her and the ball.
The frustration bloomed when she missed a shot, legs aching from exhaustion and failing to catch up to the ball in time; the ball hit the edge of her racket and bounced off feebly - she huffed. Her next strokes were harder - more swing put behind them, beating the balls senseless as opposed to simply hitting them. Frustration blossomed into anger when her volley hit the net - her shoulder whining in fatigue. She hit the next ball with a backhand - a sharp crack echoing throughout the hall.
Her jaw dropped when a fireball flew through the air towards the end of the court - Rebound Ace hissing in contact as smoke rose to the ceiling; she looked down to see the racket melting in her hands. She dropped it in a panic and rushed to retrieve the fire extinguisher next to the exit. She felt her body heat up in response to her anxiety as she fumbled to unhook it from the wall, metal going soft in her hands. She pulled the pin and sprayed it experimentally in front of her, the nozzle releasing a short stream of foam; she dashed over to the burning ball and squeezed the handles together, feeling them bend underneath her fingers as foam poured onto the court.
When she let go, the extinguisher continued to spray, handles melted together with indents in the shape of her fingers. Her breathing quickened in a panic and fire consumed her vision as her skin prickled. She took the nozzle to her left hand and the pain was enough to put her out. She patted down her smoking shirt with a huff, holes scorched into the sleeves. Her hand itched - she looked down to see a pink rash forming underneath a layer of burning foam. The extinguisher was still spraying - discarded onto the ground, surrounded by a puddle of foam next to the melted racket that had begun to stick to the ground. She pulled on the supple metal once, twice, before giving up, running hands over her face and groaning. The court reeked of burnt plastic.
The walk back to her apartment was miserable - rain drenched her, the back of her hand twitching as droplets fell onto irritated skin. She shambled through the hallway, pausing in her tracks when she saw the man she'd been avoiding standing right outside her door.
"Mark." She breathed, shoving her hands into the pockets of the hoodie she had hastily thrown over her charred top.
He turned around, lighting up at the mere sight of her - she noted the box of chocolates in his hands. His hair was wet and the shoulders of his jacket looked equally soaked.
"Red, hey! I thought - I thought you were home already." He laughed, "I was about to knock, actually."
"What are you doing here?"
"I just uh - wanted to check in on you? I heard about the fire and wanted to see if everything was okay. I brought chocolates! Your favourites." He smiled.
She felt her heart warm, terrified it was going to set ablaze. "That's... sweet of you."
"I mean, I'd be a pretty bad boyfriend if I didn't check up on you, Red. This feels like the bare minimum."
"Well, thanks anyway."
He smiled, "Of course. You're worth it."
Her heart fluttered, she smirked performatively, "You bet your ass I am." She teased (she didn't believe that - still doesn't, but he didn't need to know).
He handed her the box of chocolates - she reached to accept them and realised her mistake only once it was too late.
"Holy fuck, what happened?" He asked, gently cradling her hand.
His fingers felt frigid against her, she pulled back, "It's nothing."
"That looks really bad."
"It's just allergies."
"I know we're not doctors yet but we both know that's not a normal allergic reaction - you should get that looked at."
"It's just from the gas leak - it'll go away on its own."
He raised an eyebrow, "Is this allergies or the gas leak?"
Her throat burned, she spoke through clenched teeth for fear that fire would escape her mouth. "Just drop it, Mark. Seriously."
"You're hurt, Addison."
Why couldn't he leave it alone? Why does he have to care about her so much? Why did he have to care at all? An instinctual, primal anger warmed her body. She felt overwhelmed with the impulse to light the building on fire. She paled, shoving her hands back into her pockets and gripping them together to try and prevent them from igniting.
"I'm fine." She seethed, teeth clenched together.
His gaze softened - pity. She didn't know if she wanted to cry in his arms or set them both ablaze and it horrified her.
"Red, what's going on?"
She studied his features - kind, gentle eyes looking over her with concern. Soft, strong hands outstretched, ready to cradle her in his arms. She wondered if they'd still cradle her after conflagration.
She started speaking before she could even think it through. "Mark - you're being really sweet about all of this and I appreciate that a lot. But-"
"Addison, what are-"
"I don't think this is going to work out."
His face fell, her heart shattered, "What?"
"It's not you, seriously. It's me." She's the problem, not him. He doesn't destroy everything he touches.
"You're - are you breaking up with me?"
More so giving him a chance to escape in one piece, before she had the chance to hurt him. She almost burnt down a tennis court, she paled at the thought of what she could do to a person.
"...I'm sorry, Mark."
He opened his mouth, only to close it again. He nodded slowly, handing her the chocolates with a frown.
He turned the corner and she let out the breath she's been holding. She rushed to her door, scrambling with the handle and her keys. She fell through the threshold with a sob, curling up on the floor and kicking the door shut behind her. In an instant she was ablaze, clothes burning and chocolates exploding into a puddle of ash and cocoa. Smoke filled her lungs as her body charred the floorboards and she coughed, chest heaving. She shambled to the bathroom - fire filling her vision, the hiss of evaporating tears filling her ears. She turned on the shower and collapsed to her knees, weeping as she lit up and was put out just as quickly over and over again.
"What's happening to me?"
Times Square, 2018
Thirty minutes late for dinner - apology flowers in hand.
She walked as fast as she could towards the elevator before the doors close, heels clicking impatiently with every step. If it didn't ruin her outfit she'd fly to the restaurant but something told her they couldn't just crack open a window and let her in. She hopped into the empty car, doors sliding closed just after she entered and grateful her skirt hadn't gotten caught again (last time it happened she had to burn that part off). She checked her reflection as she ascended through the floors - eyes roaming around her body, searching for imperfections but finding none. Hair? Styled immaculately (with her fingers as she jumped out of her costume, hands five degrees short of igniting). Dress? Hanging perfectly off her body - displaying capable, strong muscles that had done so much good for the world with a neckline low enough to excite (and just barely covering the brand new bruises from that night's... activities). Bizzy would clutch her pearls at the sight of her. She ran her tongue over her top set of teeth for fear that her lipstick had stained them and found herself tapping her foot frenetically, lighting the fingers of her free hand and snapping them. The release helped, but the need to look composed was better and that's exactly what she got when the doors opened, revealing the restaurant. She strode over to the maître d', who looked at her expectantly.
"Reservation for Montgomery?"
He nodded, "Right this way, miss."
He led her to their usual table. Savvy sat restlessly in her chair, fiddling with a half-eaten breadstick. He left them be. Red smiled, placing the bouquet she'd been clinging onto (sunflowers - they stood out in the restaurant, but they were Savvy's favourites) into the vase and leaning over to give Savvy a kiss on the cheek before sitting.
"Hope I didn't keep you long." Red joked (34 minutes and 17 seconds to be exact, but who's counting anyway?).
Savvy smiled - small, tired, like she'd had that exact conversation a thousand times (because she had) and already knew how it was going to end (because she did). "Work again?"
The euphemism had become so familiar she sometimes pretended it referred to something else - maybe in another life Dr Montgomery would have kept her waiting instead of Red Rocket. "You know how crazy it gets."
Savvy laughed bitterly, "Don't I know it."
"Sav..."
"It's our anniversary, Addie. You couldn't show up on time just this once?"
Red grimaced, lips forming a small, straight line. "I got side-tracked, I'm sorry."
Savvy sighed before reaching a gloved hand across the table, stroking her palm, "I know. You always are. I just... no, forget it."
"What?"
"No, I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry. Let's just have a nice dinner? Please?"
An olive branch. She took it, "Of course."
They ordered, they ate, Savvy complimented her dress, Red complimented her hair. For a moment they felt like a normal couple. They paid separately, Savvy held onto her bicep as they walked to the elevator, the doors closed with only them inside and they waited in silence.
Savvy cleared her throat, "So what was it this time?"
"What?"
"Let me guess - jewellery store robbery? A mugging?"
"Sav, it's not-"
"I know, I know, you're a superhero, this is your job, you save people but I just can't help but feel like you always choose-"
"There was a girl on a roof."
Savvy paled, "Oh God, Addie, I'm sorry..."
"She wasn't sure if she wanted to jump, she said she just... wanted to look over the edge. See the cars drive past. Think about it, but not follow through, I guess. It was all very..."
Savvy nodded.
"We just talked. For a while, actually. I walked her home and told her I'd check on her in a few days if she wanted. She did, so now I have a standing appointment for next week. I lost track of time pretty easily. But I'm here now and I'm sorry. How about we head back to mine, have some fun? The night's still young."
Savvy laughed, wrapping her arms around the back of Red's neck, "How do you always know what to say?"
"Just lucky, I guess."
Savvy kissed her - a wave of relaxation hit her in an instant, cooling off the heat in her chest to something chillier, calmer. The pervasive warmth was gone and for a moment she felt calm, not plagued by the constant passion and frustration that sat in her gut with the fire (that still does).
They broke the kiss and Red smiled, burning warmth returning to her body. "So you want to get me all hot and bothered?"
"Right now I do, yeah."
A chuckle (strained - she thinks she might've cracked a rib earlier - or was it later that night? She can't remember, it all blurs together these days), "Maybe I should fly us then, cut down on traffic."
Savvy pouted, shaking her head slightly, "But where's the fun in that?"
"Well, I have very strong arms and a great view of Bryant Park with your name on it. What do you say?"
Savvy's arms detangled from their position behind Red's neck, moving to stroke her shoulders, "I say... right now I want to go walk home with Addison. Not Red Rocket."
The elevator doors opened with a ding, Red shrugged, "Whatever you want."
They took the walk, strolling through bustling Manhattan streets - the night breeze tickled their necks. Savvy drew her coat closer to herself, leaning further into Red's warm, naked arm. The sound of sirens caught up to them as two cars sped past, a gunshot ringing out in the street; Red looked to Savvy apologetically.
"Sav, I am so sorry but I-"
"No, I get it. Just - please be safe, okay? For me?"
Red pecked her on the mouth lightly, "I always am." She lied (she never was, but she figured what Savvy didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Oh, how stupid she was.).
She flagged down a cab, watching Savvy get in and the car drive away before she took off, dress disintegrating in the wind as she sped after the chasing cars.
Stopping the car wasn't hard - all it took was a carefully aimed flick of flaming fingers at a tyre. The car skidded against the road, sliding to a sudden halt. A man fell out of the driver's seat, gun in hand.
"Wow, they really just let anybody drive these days, huh?" Red quipped.
He scrambled to point his gun at her, only for him to drop it in a hiss of pain, cradling the hand Red shot a small flame at.
"Put it under the sink when you get the chance; you should be fine in a few-"
She felt it before she heard it. White hot pain shot through her side, the hiss of her skin cauterising itself filled her ears. She rubbed a hand over the fresh, wrinkled scar, surroundings almost bubbling and turned to face the man behind her pointing his gun shakily at her figure. She wasn't sure what was stronger: the fear in her gut at how terrified he seemed, or the fury in her chest at his audacity to take a shot at her. Anger won out as she slowly sank to the ground, the fire around her burning the paint off the street and pouring out of her mouth with every breath. He moved to pull the trigger and she blasted a fireball at his gun, sending him flying backwards. The flames died down to a simmer as she collected herself and the police approached the man, lifting him up and cuffing him. Red winced when she saw the way his shirt was melted to his skin.
"Take him to Presbyterian, tell them this was me, they'll uh - they know what to do."
One of the officers nodded, "Thanks for you help."
"I'm just doing my job." Red shrugged.
"Well, you're damn good at it. We're lucky to have somebody like you around."
The praise knocked her off guard - it was so refreshing, the way Red Rocket just needed to show up. Meanwhile, Addison always seems to be fucking up.
She's relieved the fire covered her expression beyond recognition, "Have a good night, officers." She said, taking off into the air.
She landed on her balcony with a dull thud, extinguishing her head and hands to knock on the glass sliding door. Savvy turned to see her, unlocking and opening it. Red smiled, stumbling through the threshold and putting herself out.
Savvy frowned, "You burnt the dress."
"I burnt the dress."
Savvy - hands bare now - cradled her face, pressing a kiss into cooling lips. "That's a shame, I liked the way you looked in it."
She was always so clearheaded when they were like this together: Savvy putting out the fire inside of her, bringing her back down to Earth. She felt like her old self: calmer, happier, the inferno of rage in her heart dulled into an ember. It helped to know she'd never hurt her (physically, at least).
Red smirked, "I can always get a new one - your dress, on the other hand, I'd much prefer to see on the floor."
Savvy laughed, guiding one of Red's hands to the zipper on the back, "Knock yourself out."
Red kissed her, hands slowly dragging the zip down, guiding the fabric off of Savvy's shoulders. The dress fell to the floor in a pile of black satin. Red's hands settled on the small of Savvy's back. Savvy moaned, running her fingertips along the back of Red's neck, tracing her spine before gripping her hips. Red hissed in pain.
Savvy jolted away and the heat returned. "What's wrong? Are you okay, did I-"
Her eyes scanned Red's body, settling on the dark, dead tissue over her hip. She clenched her jaw. "Addie, what happened?"
Red stepped forward, gripping onto Savvy's fingers and squeezing reassuringly, "It's nothing, Sav. Don't worry about it."
"You're hurt."
"I'm fine."
Savvy's gaze hardened, "What happened, Addison?"
She sighed, "It's just - there were two of them and I didn't realise they both had guns-"
"You got shot?"
"It was barely a graze! I'm fine, I self-cauterise. I can't even feel it, it looks way worse than it actually is." She lied.
Savvy ripped her hands away, horrified. She took two steps back, pacing next to the coffee table. Red's eyes flicked to the crumpled costume in the corner of the room, beckoning her to put it on and leave.
"You got shot. You got shot after I explicitly asked you to be safe, Addie, to be careful and you didn't listen."
"Of course I listened, Sav! But I can't guarantee my safety when I'm dealing with-"
"You can! You can because you are choosing to put yourself in danger every single day, Addison! You are choosing this for yourself and I can't for the life of me understand why. Do you have a death wish or do you just think you're invincible?"
Red's jaw twitched - heat threatened to spill into her mouth. She swallowed, "I never asked for this, Sav. I never wanted any of this! But I have a responsibility to-"
"Don't you dare fucking start with that responsibility bullshit, Addison, don't even think about it! What? Should I go running into gunfights just because I have powers, too?"
"Don't put words in my mouth."
"Do you think I like this, Addie? Do you think I look forward to the late nights and the apology flowers and the 'Duty calls' speech before you go flying off into God knows what?"
Red stiffened, Savvy continued.
"What's going to happen when your luck runs out, Addie? What happens when you get yourself killed?"
"Sav, I'm not-"
"No, Addie you are going to die in that stupid costume! Someone is going to kill you! And for what? To prove to your parents that you're worth something? That you're not a fuck up?"
"They have nothing to do with-"
"I've seen it all before, Addison! I'm a fucking legacy, I know what I'm talking about! My mother died doing this! So did my aunt! My cousin - she's thirty-seven and she lost her arm!"
Red swallowed the lump in her throat, "It's about choices, Sav. It's about playing with the cards you're dealt and like it or not, this is my hand."
"If your cards are so bad, then why are you still playing, Addie? Why can't you take your life into your own hands? Why can't you choose yourself? Why can't you choose me? Choose us?"
Red rubbed at itchy, wet eyes. "It's more complicated than that, Sav."
Savvy broke the distance again, grabbing Red's hands - the fire disappeared, leaving only devastation in its wake. "Why? Why can't you just walk away?"
Red shrugged - her mouth salty, "If I don't do it, who will? Besides, fireballs don't tend to have great job prospects." She laughed bitterly.
Savvy's gaze softened, hands reaching to hold Red's face, she can't remember if she found the forced eye contact comforting or deeply unsettling at the time.
"Addie..."
"Sav..."
"I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I'm sorry that your parents fucked you up and I'm sorry you got kicked out of med school and I'm sorry that I love you and hate Red Rocket because I want you to be happy and alive and for us to be together."
"Sav what do you-"
"There's so much I wanna do with you, Addie. I wanna sky dive and learn Italian and go to San Tropez to lie topless on the beach together. I want a future with you, a life! I want us to become this crazy old wrinkled couple that argues all the time; I want that future for us like I want air. Don't you want that too? A chance to grow old together?"
Red's vision blurred, she blinked tears out of her eyes.
Sav smiled wistfully, "I love you, Addie. But I don't think you can even stand yourself. Because if you did you wouldn't be spending all that time in this - this suit of fiery armour that you surround yourself with. Because it's going to kill you, Addison. It's not protection, it's an iron maiden."
Red sighed, "Sav, I love you-"
"But you love being Red Rocket more, don't you?"
"I didn't say that."
"You're not denying it."
Silence.
Sav laughed, a single tear streaming down her face. She pulled Red in for a kiss before breaking it off, walking over to the crumpled dress and shrugging it back on.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't be here right now."
"So that's it? You're walking away?"
Savvy turned back to her, arms fiddling behind her back, "I'm taking a step back, I need - I need room to breathe. We said a lot of things tonight, we did a lot of things and I think we need to sort ourselves out." She huffed, turning her back to Red, "Can you zip me?"
"Of course."
Red slowly dragged the zipper upwards, lightly patting Savvy on the back. Savvy turned around.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
She walked to the door, twisting the handle and looking over her shoulder.
"Goodnight, Addie. Happy three years."
"Happy three years, Sav."
Savvy dumped her over brunch two days later.
Mount Sinai Hospital, 2026
One hour after waking from a coma - limbs aching from disuse, voice hoarse from intubation.
The knock on the door startled her; she assumed it was another nurse asking her if she was sure she didn't want morphine for the twenty-thousandth time while covered head to toe in fireproof PPE. She was very, very wrong. Derek stood in the doorway flabbergasted. His hair was wet and the neck of his costume peeked out of his jacket. It made Addison's blood boil to see how flippantly he wore it. She always thought he took the job for granted, but this was just salt in the wound.
"Oh my God, you're awake!" He cheered, dashing over to the side of her bed and falling to his knees.
He couldn't see her like this - it was unbecoming. She had to get him out. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting you? I've been visiting you everyday when I'm having my lunch but oh my God you're awake!"
He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on her bandaged knuckles. "I was so worried." He whispered, smiling. She felt sick.
"Derek..."
He looked up at her innocently, grinning from ear to ear.
"I just woke up."
"I know, isn't it great?"
"No, Derek I mean... I'm in a lot of pain right now and I think I just... need some space."
She was more numb than in pain and she didn't want to be alone, but she'd rather sit with her loneliness and the stench of Xeroform than be with Derek.
He frowned, nodding slowly. "I'll come back in an hour or two?"
She gritted her teeth, melancholy seeping into her bones, "How about tomorrow instead?"
"Oh."
"I just - you're being really sweet but it's just - it's a lot to process."
He nodded, "It's okay. I'll come back tomorrow. I'll take some pictures of Milo to show you, too. I think he misses you."
"You've been with Milo?"
He shrugged, "You love that cat to death, Addie. Someone has to take care of him."
"Thanks, Derek."
He smiled, "Of course." He said, opening the door and walking out, shutting it gently behind him. She sighed, relief coursing through her.
The door opened again and a man wearing a lab coat and thick fireman's gloves strutted into the room, eyes focused downward at the chart in his hands.
"Alright Red, glad to have you back. I'm Dr Sloan from Plastic Surgery. Just wanted to ask you a few questions now that-"
Addison's voice came out like a croak. "Mark?"
He looked up to meet her gaze, fingers going slack as the chart in his hands fell to the floor. He looked older: his beard was more filled in and his hair had started to grey; there were wrinkles on his face Addison had never seen before, a physical reminder of how long it had truly been.
"Addison. Hey." He breathed.
"Been a while."
"Yeah. Last I heard from you was med school. You dropped out."
It's the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up in the morning. "It's a long story."
"Right... Uh, look I'm real sorry to have barged in like this, I'm supposed to be going over to see Red Rocket of all people and I must've got the wrong room by mistake so I'm gonna-"
"You're in the right room."
His eyes widened, face morphing further as the seconds passed and the realisation hit him. "You're Red Rocket?"
Addison shrugged, wincing at the way her ribs flared up in pain and her skin pulled tight at her shoulders. "The one and only."
He bent over to pick up the chart on the floor, placing it on the overbed table before he dropped into the chair beside her. "How - how long have you..." He trailed off, gesturing wildly.
"I... got my powers a couple days before we broke up." Addison whispered.
His jaw dropped, "The fire in your kitchen."
She nodded, teary-eyed, "The very one."
"So that burn on your hand was-"
"A fire extinguisher. It cleared up after a few days. My powers kept going haywire. I couldn't control them." She still can't.
"Addie-"
"I would've hurt you, Mark. I couldn't live with myself if I did. So, I did the only thing I could think to do and I'm sorrier than you could ever imagine."
"You dumped me."
Addison smiled - although it looked more like a grimace. "I dumped you." She echoed.
He ran a hand through salt and pepper air (wow, she felt old) and sighed, "Why didn't you tell me, Addie? I could've-"
"No, you couldn't have."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you."
Silence.
Addison cleared her throat. "So you wanted to ask me a few questions?"
He rose, reaching for the chart. "Yeah. Yeah. More of an exam, really. I just got added to your case so I haven't seen any of the burns for myself. From what I've read it seemed pretty severe, though."
"I wouldn't know." The benefits of being so hopped up on pain meds and paralytics you fade in and out of consciousness for six weeks.
He winced, "Right... do you mind if I take a look?"
"Go for it."
He nodded, removing the thick, fireproof gloves (a precaution, because of her).
"Don't tell anybody I'm doing this-" He said, reaching for the box of surgical gloves and laying out a sterile towel, "but I can't feel shit with those on."
She snorted, wincing as her ribs ached.
He snapped the gloves on and she gave him an arm and he began to unwrap the dressing. The bandage had stuck to her, tugging on where her skin met the edges of the gauze like a wax job. She swore she could feel something tear.
"Fuck!"
"Sorry, I know it hurts."
"Of course it hurts, Mark, I was burning blue! I never burn blue!"
"Well, try not to do that in the future, alright Red?"
Something in her stirred at the old nickname. She sighed with a nod.
He removed the dressing from her arm in relative silence, only periodically interrupted by the occasional groan, wince or curse word. Underneath the bandages was a frail, scarred arm that she only barely registered was her own. Everything about it looked wrong: too gaunt, too burnt. This wasn't the arm of a hero, this was the arm of a victim. She wanted to be sick; her flesh looked like melted wax clinging to a toothpick. She felt like she was twenty-two all over again. Mark asked her to bend her fingers and she paled when her fist failed to close all the way, scars keeping them in place. Mark looked pleased, at least, examining her arm with a clinical gaze before nodding with a small smile.
Addison cleared her throat. "So?"
"It's healing well. Benefit of superpowers, I guess. Skin grafts won't be necessary at the rate it's going."
"You say that like I have enough healthy tissue for a donor site."
Mark's gaze softened, "Addison-"
"I crashed and burned, Mark. Simple as that. I don't need you to baby me and tell me it looks fine or that I'm doing great or being so brave because none of it is fucking true. I'm tired and I'm devastated and everything hurts! I just want to get out of here and get back to doing what I'm supposed to be doing."
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean get back to what you're meant to be doing?"
"When can I get back to work, Mark?"
His eyes morphed into a look of horror. "Addison, you shouldn't be going back to work."
"Well obviously there's a timeline on this but like, rough estimate, all things considered."
"No, I mean going back at all. You need to retire, Addison. If something like this happens again you'll probably die."
Her ears began to ring. "What?"
"You pushed yourself, Addison. You pushed yourself way too far and there's no going back. You say it sucks now but people didn't even recognise you when you came into the hospital. As your doctor, I seriously discourage against you going back to hero work, you'd be endangering your life."
She couldn't speak. The lump in her throat was suffocating.
Mark nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Addison. I'll leave you to think about things, I understand you're going through a lot right now."
The "Yeah." escaped her mouth without even thinking. The door shut and she found herself sobbing into her hands the second she was alone. She had nothing left now.