The REM Trials

Chapter 18

I sit quietly on the couch, staring at the words and charts that seem to be dancing across my vision long after I close my eyes. There always seem to be a million questions that keep slipping through my fingers the closer I get to answering them. So maybe I am being stupid by chasing after false leads in alien tech and weapons, but maybe—just maybe, if I can stop this one thing or help in the smallest way, it'll be enough to ease a little bit of the guilt.

My damp hair leaves a soaked spot on my shirt as I brush it off my shoulder. Dad is due home soon, and every minute that passes ties another knot in my nerves. I have a feeling deep in my chest that this isn't going to be one of our normal fights, and it terrifies me more than it should.

I keep looking over at my suit draped over the arm of the couch and wonder if this is even worth it. Phantom isn't just a persona or an alter ego. It's me, who I am and always have been, even if there wasn't a name for it until a few years ago. Yet, a part of me wonders if I shouldn't leave that piece of me behind since all it seems to do is hurt people I care about or create rifts between us.

There's an echo in the empty halls as the door slams shut. I fell my muscles immediately tighten as his footsteps approach. It's quiet as he enters the living room and takes a seat on the couch adjacent to my chair.

Neither of us dares to say anything for a long moment as we both bristle and reflect each other's anger and frustration. It slowly bubbles up between us, silently pushing us closer to the edge. I curl my hands into fists as Dad moves to say something. "Care to explain what you were thinking back there?"

"I was thinking that if I didn't do something fast Peter would have been killed, and they would have gotten away unscathed. I had to do something."

"No, you weren't thinking. If you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He snaps, which makes me flinch ever so slightly. "You just charged in and put yourself in danger with absolutely no regard for consequences."

His shouts continue to fill my ears as the words push me one step closer to snapping. I open my mouth without really thinking, "Like father, like daughter, I suppose."

The room goes deathly silent as the words settle for a moment. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Dad questions softly, but there's a sharp edge to his voice that should tell me to tread softly if I wasn't too frustrated to hear it.

"Oh, just that it's funny you would lecture me for something that you've done repeatedly on much larger scales." I retort and count the instances on my fingers, "Let's see, launching yourself into space with a missile, trying to take on a terrorist by yourself—sans any proper weaponry, I might add, Sokovia, and so many more instances."

"That's completely different. You're my daughter, if something—" He stutters for a second before continuing on full force, "—if something were to happen to you, that's on my hands, and I'd never forgive myself."

"Do you think I don't know that? Because I do. I know how my actions affect people—people like Henry, like Mum, like Peter, like you, and I have to live with the consequences of everything I've done and will do.

"They haunt me every, single, day, and I think about it every time I use my powers. How I can be better, how I can make up for my mistakes, how to protect those around me," tears stream down my face as my voice becomes suddenly timid, "and how to not hurt you like you've unintentionally hurt me."

Everything goes quiet as the words settle in, and Dad lets himself collapse on the choice as the pain is reflected in every inch of him. I shift on. My feet and try to hold back the oncoming tears as I continue on.

"I never told you—or anyone—this, but when the news broke about the battle of New York, I sat in front of the tv with mum's phone waiting—praying to hear from you again. Then, when you launched yourself into that portal," the words catch in my throat, "you called Pepper. I know you love her, but if you hadn't come back, the last conversation we would have had would have been an argument hours before about why I couldn't visit you that because you never told me you were heading into a fight. The last conversation would have been me upset with you. One where I didn't say 'I love you' back because I was mad.