Asylum

Recuperation

Alex Severo

One second, I'm apologizing to Kya for what I'm going to have to do to her, just as Elektra comes charging in with a gun – a gun­ ­­of all things. Where did she even get one? They're not even legal in Japan! But I couldn't ask her or do much of anything, but next thing I know, I'm slipping out of my own self and becoming a stranger. Which one did identity did I take in that bunker? One made of evil? One made of sadness? One of love?

Reaper won't tell me. I know she took some hits in her fight with Ren, which was an impressive event, but I don't remember her looking like this. Right now, Reaper stands by the kitchen sink, dressed in her sports bra and a pair of comfortable shorts, using a rag to wipe away dried blood and probing at blossoming bruises along her ribcage. I can't remember Ren packing so many punches to the Reaper, so why is she like this?

I have a theory. One to do with the bruises on my knuckles. But if I had truly attacked Reaper, then she wouldn't have just stood there and taken it. So, somehow, she's beaten into shades of blue, my knuckles are bruised, and my body is perfectly okay.

The only things she will tell me is that Elektra shot me when I held Kya when using her own power, and it took three injections of GHC to get me to pass out, and while I was unconscious, she stitched up my wound. Reportedly, the bullet didn't exit my shoulder, and Reaper had to dig it out, which may be way it hurts so much. I'm not surprised Elektra had a gun, but I'm surprised she'd squeeze the trigger against me. Betraying my trust is one thing, but rubbing salt in the wound – or giving me one with a bullet – is another. I know we were close in Asylum, but I think our bridge of friendship has finally burned down.

As the girl in our apartment cleans herself up, she's sullen. I expected the Reaper to be furious with losing a battle, especially one so important. We had everyone right where we wanted them, and yet, because of Reaper's pride, they all slipped away. Now, there's nothing to show for our efforts besides mysterious bruising and contusions.

Reaper wrings out the cloth she's been using and hangs it over the spout, but she stays standing where she is. I don't know if it's the Reaper who's contemplating our loss or Lana. "How are you feeling?" I inquire, keeping my voice low as if reaching a certain volume will trigger her demise.

She doesn't respond for so long that I wonder if she even heard me. I open my mouth to ask again, but she gives me a response. "In what way?" she beckons, voice equally as low as mine. "Mentally or physically?"

"Both," I answer, taking careful steps to the counter, where I prop myself up on a barstool. I study her, absorbing the way everything seems to contradict her right now. From the slow, steady breaths she takes to the hard, concentrated focus on nothing, Reaper is lost. Someone who has never experienced anything but victory has finally tasted defeat, and she doesn't know what to do about it.

"Physically, I look worse than I feel," she reports, outlining one of her bruises with a slender finger. "Mentally..." Her words drift off. I doubt she even know how she's feeling. What does someone like her do with such a loss like this? In her entire life, Reaper has been the shining star in her agency's eyes, and now she's fallen. I don't know if I should feel sorry for her, or if I should be worried that I'd empathize with her.

"We learned a lot," I tell her when the silence becomes too stiff. "We know more about everyone's powers, including the new one Leo learned. And we know not to trust Xavier."

Reaper grimaces at the mention of Xavier. "I should've exposed his true identity."

"A deal is a deal," I remind her. "We keep his confidentiality and we get Kya. You were right to honor your word."