Heroes Not Wanted

Chapter 22: Respite

Diana groaned. Her head pounded mercilessly, and something sticky was attaching her hair together at the back of her head. It seemed like almost too much effort just to open her eyes, but the low murmur of voices caught her attention. Forcing her heavy eyelids open, Diana found herself staring at the usual metal ceiling of a Haven building above her.

"Well, Sleeping Beauty, glad that you're awake," a familiar voice said, louder than the conversation had been before. "How do you feel?"

Her head was sloshing, as if it were a fish tank, but she forced herself to look over Art. He leaned down over her, that roguish grin on his face. Realizing he was waiting for a response, Diana forced her dry lips apart. "Horrible. Where are we?"

"Safe," Art said. "You're concussed. Probably best if you stay where you are for now."

However, a sudden remembrance made Diana try and sit up. "But—but what about Hal? Is he safe?" she asked, regretting her choice immediately after she did it. Bile rose in her throat and threatened to make an appearance.

Hastily, Art pushed her down. "Easy, Di!" he said. "He's mending. And so are you, so it's really for the best if neither of you move!"

Diana groaned, laying back again. Tears of pain pricked at the edges of her eyes as the fog of sleep faded away, and reality began to set in again. Reality included pure agony, and nausea came in waves. Art patted her arm comfortingly, but she was likewise struggling to control her visions from earlier. The more pain she was in, the worse they got. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing it would all just go away.

"Di, come on, it's okay," Art said softly, rubbing her shoulder gently.

"Art, it hurts, it hurts, make it go away, please," Diana pleaded, sobbing. She rolled onto her side, gagging, and Art continued to rub her shoulder. It offered her little comfort.

After some time, Diana fell back asleep. Once she was sleeping again, Art stepped away from her, watching her with guilt-ridden eyes. He should have just picked her up and carried her to safety, instead of letting her get hit with a rock. But he could still see the pain etched onto her face, the tears making tracks down her cheeks through the dust and ash ...

"Arthur." The voice belonged to Storm, and he turned, seeing her standing in the doorway of Diana's room. Wrinkles around her eyes indicated worry as she looked at him. "Are you alright?"

Art went to nod and shook his head instead. "I'm not ... Storm, they're just kids," he said helplessly. "Hal and Diana—not to mention Ivy and Silence. They deserved to stay at the School, learn, live ... and now two are badly hurt, and the other two are going to be drowned, because of us. I helped capture Ivy, Storm! How can I live with myself if she dies?! Besides, it's my fault that Silence is going to die!"

"Your fault?" Storm's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"She came to rescue me while I was in prison," Art explained with guilt. "If I hadn't punched Guardian—"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, Arthur!" Storm said in frustration. "If we're playing the blame game, then we can blame me for taking the children along with me to rescue you. But let's be honest. Without them, you'd be dead! That man was coming to kill you. I never would have gotten to you in time. And it's not like we're going to let Silence and Ivy get killed."

"I—"

"We're going to rescue them," Storm insisted. "And Hal and Diana are in the capable—if not slightly dubious—hands of Doc. He'll tend to them well. Which just leaves us to pick up the pieces before we hightail it out of Haven."