Humans: Book IV

VIII

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I tell myself he's asleep. That's the only way I can look at him without freaking out. He's asleep. Peter's only asleep...

His body is threaded with tubes. In his side. In his hand. In his nostrils. It looks hard to breathe. His eyelids are twitching like he's stuck in some nightmare.

I press my hand to his bruised forehead. I ease whatever is going on in there. His face promptly relaxes. The beeping monitor steadies. I turn away to look at Hank.

"Jean dug him into the ground," he bites, the anger radiating off his blue skin, "He was scraped across the pavement, probably over twenty meters. Fractured rib. Broken wrist. And severe trauma to the head."

"How much energy will it take to wake him?"

"All of yours. And then some."

My fingers trail along Peter's hairline, sweeping away the stray silver locks that have fallen into his face. It's times like these where I wish my powers could do more, where I wish I could heal instead of simply easing the pain. If I could take away these bruises I would. I would pull all of the purple and black and yellow that have created sore galaxies in his skin until the blood vessels were repaired. Until he could wake up and he could tell me everything's going to be alright.

But I can't, can I? I can only soothe the pain. The rest he'll have to do on his own.

"I shouldn't have made him go on the mission," I decide. Abandoning him didn't work before. I don't know why I thought it would work now.

Hank fiddles with some equipment, "It's not your fault, it's that killer's..." Something falls out of his hands and crashes to the floor. "Damn it!" he hisses.

I tiptoe over to him, lying a hand onto his shoulder. I don't say anything.

"I'm fine," he snaps at me.

"Hank," I mumble. I show him the anger raging inside of him. It lights up in a hot and red glow. He doesn't notice.

He whips up onto his feet and shouts at me again, "I told you I'm fine!" He stops dead in his tracks when his eyes meet mine. He looks down at the red light pouring out of him.

I stare. He stares. And then all that red suddenly turns the deepest shade of blue in existence, a beat-up navy all splotchy and dark. And he collapses into messy tears. I pull him to my chest and he clutches onto my shoulder blades as the tears drip onto my neck.

"Oh god," he whispers. "She's gone __. Raven's gone..."

I hug him tighter, "I know, Hank. I know." I try to wipe some the of the tears from his face. "C'mon. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make you some tea." He responds with a short sigh and a heavy nod.

The hallways are all empty. Off-puttingly empty. The students are all home for spring break. All the flowers are beginning to peak out from the damp dirt. Even the days are collecting sunlight, growing longer now as we head toward the warmth.

So why does everything feel so cold and dark?

Hank plants himself into a kitchen chair, head leaning against a bent arm. The copper kettle echoes as I fill it with tap water.

"It's just so damn unfair. All of it. Raven was trying to help her and where does she end up? Buried." He shakes his head as he mutters, "Jean doesn't deserve to be out there. She deserves to be locked up."

I scoop out a tablespoon of chamomile. The tea leaves float and foam amidst the simmering water. It smells light and floral.

"Hank. Do you remember the night when I first came here?" He takes off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"Yeah. You walked here all the way from the train station. You were covered in mud and rain."

"And my hands..." I remind him.

"Your hands were shaking. And glowing every thirty seconds. You couldn't control your powers."

I pour the tea long and slow into a mug, the steam rising up into my face and filling my vision with clouds and warmth. I place the hot mug into Hank's empty hands.  

"I told you the second I showed up on the doorstep what I did to my grandmother. And those innocent people in that explosion. But you still let me inside. Why?" I take a seat while I wait for the answer.

"Because you were scared...and you needed help."

"And I'm sure right now, wherever Jean is, she's scared and she needs help."

Hank lets go of the tea and pushes himself up from the table, "But it's not the same! You killed the leader of an anti-mutant organization and hurt a couple people that all recovered. Jean killed...Jean killed...Raven!" The steam in his mug continues rising.

"Hank...I know you loved her. Raven shouldn't have died, and nothing will make that okay. But she's gone now and we have to do what she would've wanted. She would've wanted us to help Jean."

"She would've wanted to live!"  He races his fingers through his scalp, "Oh god. It's so unfair. I..." The tears come back, but he collapses back down into the chair. "Raven died before I had the chance to properly love her..."

"Oh Hank..." It takes a while to conjure up some calming energy in my hand. Nonetheless, I dig deep down and I find it, ready to transfer it to Hank when...

"No," he says. I pull my hand away. "I want to feel the pain. It's the least I can do for Raven." I nod my head.

"That's why we have to save Peter. We have to find a way. I'm not gonna let Jean take him too," Hank adds, index finger trailing along the rim of his mug.

I glue my eyes to the table, "I don't know what we're gonna do, Hank. We need another energy source."

"If only there was someone with similar powers, who could transfer energy. Someone like..." Our eyes lock onto each other as the same terrifying idea pops into our heads.

I grimace as I finally say it,
"Someone like Shaw..."

Chapter Dedication:

"I've always loved the name Cardinal for no particular reason for a superhero." -_Bethy_333