Chimera

Twenty Wild Card

Dr. Kinsey eventually kicked me (gently) out of his office. I relocated to the waiting room, which was surprisingly void of extra personnel. Jessica told me the kids had been patched up and taken to an empty room downstairs to rest. A glance at the wall clock surprised me—only quarter after seven.

It felt like a year had passed since the fighting began, and it had only been eight hours.

I knew I should sleep, but something kept me from leaving. The guilt eating me up inside from Bethany’s impending death had put a lock on the door, and I didn’t have the energy to push past it. Bethany was a little crazy, but she hadn’t deserved this. Landon didn’t deserve this.

As if summoned by my thoughts of his kid, Thatcher emerged from the back of the infirmary. He looked startled to see me. His face was pale, his eyes red and smudged with dark lines beneath. He was exhausted and upset, and it was my fault.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“You should.”

“I know.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to me, and I didn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He shook his head, still lingering by the door. “For what?”

“Bethany.”

“That wasn’t your fault. I spoke with Nicolas briefly. I know you did your best to protect those kids.”

“I failed.”

He came forward a few steps. “You saved four lives today.”

“At the expense of one.”

“Bethany is not your fault, Renee. She chose to go with the others. She put herself at risk.”

Anger rose hotly in my chest. “So it’s Bethany’s fault she’s brain-dead?”

“That’s not what I said or what I meant.”

Thatcher’s words made sense but I didn’t want to hear them. We knew the clones were targeting Bethany and we allowed her to leave the safety of the island anyway. It didn’t excuse my culpability; it actually made it worse. I should have stopped her from leaving us two days ago. I should have done so many things differently.

“Stop that,” he said.

I blinked. “Stop what?”

“Second-guessing your choices and playing the what-if game.”

“If anyone else but me had been with those kids—”

“You don’t know how things would have turned out. Maybe worse.”

I laughed bitterly. “I doubt that. This happened because of me and my stupid, useless fucking Flex powers. I’m a goddamn liability to everyone here.”

“According to Nicolas, your powers stopped the fight and got Hinder to back down.”

“I let the clones get away.”

“I understand your anger—”

“Oh, I’m way past anger right now.” I lurched out of my chair so fast I almost fell over. “I left anger a while ago, back when I was first burned. I even hit bargaining not long ago, during the earthquake. You know what this is, Derek? This is me accepting I’ll never be the hero my friends are, because my Meta powers are compromised. They’re never getting better.”

Saying it out loud to another person made everything hit home. The Flex powers I’d loved as a child and loved again for six months this year were gone. I was at half my original capabilities, if that. I carried a gun now, for crying out loud! If it weren’t for the fact that my family was here (and I would always be blue), I’d have left a long time ago.

“You’re so much more than your powers, Renee,” Thatcher said softly. “They don’t define you.”

“No? Teresa’s powers define her.”

“You aren’t Teresa.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Not better or worse than Teresa, just not her. You’re you, and I happen to like you very much. You’re smart, you’re quick-witted, and you’re beautiful. You are incredibly loyal to your friends, and your heart is bigger than you let on. None of that has anything to do with your Flex ability. It’s already inside you.”

Tears stung my eyes. “What good is any of that if I’m useless in a fight?”

“Just because you don’t shoot energy spheres from your hands or create whirlwinds doesn’t mean you’re powerless. Or useless.”

“This coming from a guy who can alter the chemical composition of metal.” Before he could argue further, I put up a staying hand. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you, Derek. Go be with your son, okay?”

I turned and left. He didn’t try to stop me or chase after me—and I was surprised at how much that stung. I ignored the curious looks thrown my way by the occasional newbie and ducked outside. I wanted the sunshine on my face and open spaces. The morning was crisp and damp and smelled like autumn. Winter would be here soon. I hated snow and the cold. Vegas had been a great town for me with its insanely warm weather.

Maybe you should go back.

Maybe.

I wandered down toward the sparring fields, which were empty. The solitude felt nice after being in such close quarters with six other people for more than twenty-four hours. I was a naturally social person (usually) and I liked being around others, but right now I needed alone time so I could think.

Teresa didn’t get the memo.

She found me under a tree and sat down uninvited.

“I don’t want to talk about Bethany,” I said before she could.

“Well, good, because I want to talk about you.”

“Can we not?”

“Being responsible sucks. It sucks even more when someone you’re responsible for gets hurt. And it’s goddamn torture when they die.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, then you can listen, because this is something I’ve wanted to say for a long time.” She twisted around to face me; I stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry.”

The strangled grief in her voice made me look at her. Her eyes were red and shiny with new tears. “Sorry for what?” I asked, perplexed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you from Queen. I’m sorry you were burned so badly.”

My brain stuttered for a response to that. I gaped at her, vocal cords frozen. She looked so utterly miserable that I wanted to hug her but I was too damned confused to move. “T, I don’t understand. You were shot. You were in the hospital.”

“You were still my team. It was my responsibility—”

“You. Were. In. The. Hospital.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t change anything. Maybe circumstances were out of my control, but that’s the nature of leadership. I still felt and do feel responsible for everything that happened to you guys. Doesn’t matter that I couldn’t save you. What matters is that I will always look back and wonder what I could have done differently to save you guys so much pain. To save you the partial loss of your powers. To save Dahlia and Noah the pain they’re going through now. To save Noah and Aaron the brother they lost.”

“Stop.” I grabbed her hands and squeezed tight. Her fingers were cold, and she gripped mine fiercely. “You’re the one always telling us that we can’t change the past, that we have to learn from our mistakes and look forward.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” she replied with a mournful smile.

“My burns? Not your fucking fault.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Bethany’s injuries? Not your fucking fault, either.”

“Maybe not, T, but I’m still a liability.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Then maybe you should open your goddamn eyes.” I stood up, unable to stomach her hurt, startled expression. “Start seeing things the way they really are for a change. That this fantasy of Metas uniting for the common good is bullshit. All we do is hurt people. We let friends die in fires and we let teenagers get strung up from gym rafters, and it’ll never fucking stop.”

I bolted, too afraid of bursting into tears to stay and let her yell at me the way I deserved. I’d been needlessly cruel and we both knew it. I also knew it would keep her from following me or bothering me for a few hours. I made it inside, upstairs, and was twenty feet from my bedroom before Ethan cut me off.

“What?” I snapped.

He took a step back, blinked hard, then frowned. “You look like hell, Renee.”

“Thanks, Windy, I needed to hear that. Fuck off.”

“No.”

“Please fuck off?”

“Tell me you’re on your way to your room.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to yours.”

“To sleep, Stretch.”

I nearly slipped up and told him I was avoiding sleep, and the inevitable nightmares, for as long as possible. We both knew something about nightmares, and I had some brand-spanking-new ones waiting for me when my eyes finally shut. Nightmares involving teenagers and their pulverized faces. “I’m going to rest,” I said.

“I said sleep, not rest. Big difference, and I know you. Dr. Kinsey can probably give you something—”

“No drugs.” I’d gotten too used to the painkillers the doctors had put me on for the burns, and detoxing from them had not been fun times. Doing all that right before the big earthquake and the clones had been extra-special, and I’d made it a rule to avoid pills of any kind whenever possible.

“Renee—”

“No. Now will you please get out of my way? Dr. Kinsey has actual sick people to worry about, including your better half’s worse third.”

“Huh?” Ethan stared blankly at me as he worked out what I’d said. “My better—you mean Noah?”

Shitsticks, I hadn’t meant to let that slip. But I wasn’t going to lie to him. I was way past grasping for tact and caring if people got pissed at me. “You and Aaron need to have a sit-down with Double Trouble and the doc. Like, right now.”

I stepped around him while he was still somewhat stupefied and shut my bedroom door with a satisfying slam, confident he wouldn’t follow me with more questions. He’d go right to the source, because that was Ethan. He didn’t like playing games, especially when people he cared about were in trouble.

Or dying from their own in-the-moment choices, as was the case with Noah and Dahlia. She was killing him, but he would apparently rather go down with the ship than let her go to save himself.

He loved her.

I yanked open the top dresser drawer and removed a digital album. I’d stored only a handful of photographs in it for safekeeping, not for display. One was of my foster parents, another of the three of us standing next to their horse pasture. The third photo was of a group of Meta children, taken a lifetime ago. I’d found a copy of the photo in storage when we were preparing to abandon our Los Angeles HQ last spring. Six kids in it, and the only two still alive were me and Teresa. Back then her brown hair was purple-streakless, her skin pale and perfect. I was only nine, so my skin hadn’t finished darkening to the dusky blue it was now.

The face I wanted to see was in the back of the photo, so shy even then, despite his physical strength. I missed William so much lately. We’d teased each other and flirted clumsily, up until the day we were sent to war. I’d opened up to him last January. I’d wanted so desperately to be accepted and loved for the person hiding behind the blue skin and big boobs, and he’d given me that—for a couple of fantastic, bittersweet days. And I didn’t have any pictures of him as an adult.

My doorknob rattled. I put the album away and shoved the drawer shut.

Knocking.

“Renee, don’t make me turn the lock into aluminum,” Thatcher said, voice muffled by the door.

Why won’t people just leave me the fuck alone?

I turned the dead bolt, then threw open the door. “What?”

“Ethan and Aaron just came charging into the infirmary yelling at Dr. Kinsey about telling them the truth.” He quirked a curious eyebrow. “Landon was asleep, so I thought I’d make myself scarce. Any idea what that’s about?”

“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate, even though he was clearly waiting for it.

“Okay, then. May I come in?”

“Why not?”

I stepped aside so he could enter, then locked the door just in case anyone else decided it was open season on me and my big mouth.

“I take it you didn’t come up here and sleep after you left me,” he said.

“How did you guess?”

He missed my sarcasm and tilted his head toward my perfectly made, unmussed bed—an old habit from my foster father, who’d been in the military as a young man, years before meeting his wife.

“I’d like a nap but people keep interrupting me,” I lied. In fact, I liked the constant distractions. They kept me from falling over from exhaustion. “If you thought I was sleeping, why’d you come here?”

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m still here.”

“For how long?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

He leaned against my dresser but failed at keeping the pose casual. He was tense. “In the infirmary, you sounded as though you’d made a decision to leave.”

“I had. I left the infirmary.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I really know that? Gee, thanks for telling me what the fuck I know, Derek.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seriously considered leaving the island, the team, all of this.”

“Of course I’ve considered it! I consider it all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever actually do it. Even if I never go out into the field again, my family is here.”

“You’re still an asset in the field.”

“My blue ass, I am. You’ve known me, what? A week?”

“And I’ve seen you work, Renee. You try to hide it, but you genuinely care about people, especially other Metas. Why do you hide your feelings from everyone?”

“Because having feelings means you get hurt.”

He shook his head, lips twisting in a sad smile. “Everyone gets hurt. It’s an inevitable part of life.”

“How badly you get hurt depends on how much you let yourself care.”

“And you won’t let that happen to you again.”

I took a furious step closer to him, near enough to reach out and poke him without using my powers. “You don’t know me.”

“I’m trying to.”

“Well, stop.”

“Can’t. You’re under my skin, Renee.” He moved toward me, closing the space between us to less than two feet. “Tell me I’m not under yours and I’ll leave.”

My heart pounded and my lips twitched, but I couldn’t say it. We had no future past this week, and I couldn’t say that, either. Despite the prison walls that would separate us soon, I wanted to feel something again. Feel beautiful and wanted and cared about—even if only for a little while.

I didn’t speak. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down into a hard kiss that banged our teeth together. Hands tangled in my short hair, holding me close—like I was going anywhere—while his mouth plundered mine. The tenderness of our first kiss was gone. This was fast, fierce, and then we were moving. My back hit the wall and his hips pressed into mine, and that was okay, too, because this was Derek, and deep down I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

He was hard and I wanted him, and holy wow, this was going to happen. I worked a hand between us, down, until I cupped his erection through his pants. He shuddered, thrusted, moaned into my mouth, and I grinned at the power in such a simple thing. Then again, the man hadn’t had sex in more than fifteen years. He was so stoic, so controlled. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to see him fall apart.

I spun us so his back was to the wall, then broke the kiss. He watched me, wide-eyed and flushed, breathing hard through his mouth and so damn handsome. I unbuttoned his shirt with slow, deliberate fingers, never once breaking eye contact. So many things were in his eyes, including trust. Once I’d pushed his shirt off his shoulders, I admired his naked torso. The hard biceps and firm, not-quite-six-pack abs. The light smattering of dark hair on his pecs and below his navel, leading down into his slacks. There were scars, too, some as wide as a finger and others as thin as a pencil line. I touched, too, as I looked. Smoothing my fingers across his skin, sometimes soft and sometimes rough. His muscles jumped and bunched, and his breaths became shorter the longer I played.

The only real imperfection was the tracking monitor strapped to his ankle—a painful reminder of who we both were and still would be when this was over.

He made a noise that sent a bolt of arousal right through me. I dropped slowly, deliberately, to my knees, and he made the noise again. More desperate now. I made quick work of his belt and slacks and boxers. A surge of power washed over me, despite my submissive position. He was naked, beginning to unravel already, and I had barely touched him. His hands were plastered against the wall by his hips, so careful not to grab or startle. Letting me run the show.

He whispered my name, and that snapped the last of my patience. I took him in my mouth, and he released a fierce growl. His thighs shook. He wouldn’t last long, and I wanted to take him there so badly. I worked him with mouth and hands, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him against my tongue, the way his entire body trembled with need and pleasure. He jerked and shook, and when a hand finally landed on the top of my head in concert with a desperate moan, I pulled back.

I watched him come with a soft shout, his eyes wide and watching me the entire time—watching with shock and wonder and gratitude. And I was right. He was gorgeous when he fell apart.

I wiped my hand on the leg of my sweatpants, and then strong arms pulled me up by the elbows. I fell against his chest, a little dizzy from the sudden change in elevation, and right into a tender kiss. The kind of soft, exploratory kiss that made all kinds of promises about what he could do with that tongue. I kissed back, silently asking for a demonstration, and somehow he understood perfectly.

This meant, however, my getting naked. The thought stopped me cold, and I pulled back enough to make him freeze. He studied my face with worried eyes that saw so much more than I wanted anyone to see. Even though I was fully clothed, I felt like the most naked person in the room.

His fingers drifted to my bare right forearm and the scarred, purplish skin there. “Tell me what you want me to do, Renee,” he whispered.

“Wait here?” I said.

He nodded.

I felt incredibly self-conscious as I pulled the curtain on my room’s only window, casting a gloom on the room that was heightened when I turned off the table lamp near the door. Shadows played on the walls and floor. I saw everything clearly, despite the darkness, but I felt better in less light. Confident enough to take off my clothes in front of a man who wasn’t my doctor for the first time since January. Confident enough to show Derek the depth of my scars and the length of my flaws.

His breath caught several times as I stripped, and I swear he stopped breathing entirely when I turned to face him. My pulse jumped and my insides twisted with nerves and need, and I didn’t know what to do or say now. Derek saved me the embarrassment by not staring. He pulled me into him and kissed me thoroughly. Then he settled us both in my bed and began a quest to kiss every bare inch of my body.

His mouth paid equal homage to both smooth and scarred skin, and my fear lifted a bit with each new exploration. I didn’t always feel his touches but I knew they were there. He wasn’t pulling away in disgust. He wasn’t avoiding the less-than-perfect parts of me. He saw it all. He wanted it all.

Oh, Derek.

Emotion clogged my throat and tugged at my singing nerves.

When his kisses and caresses finally settled at my core, I nearly flew off the bed. He licked me with a hunger I hadn’t expected, a desire that fueled my own, and my body yielded easily to first one, then two fingers. I couldn’t stop the sounds I was making, didn’t want to stop. I forgot everything except him, us, this. Felt pleasure coiling deep inside, tightening, fighting its way out. My thighs shook with it, and I pulled at the bedspread, unable to do anything but fly as my orgasm crashed over me.

He was there as I came down off the intense release, holding me close, whispering things in my ear that I didn’t understand. He was hard again, the evidence hot against my quivering thigh, and I wanted him. I took a yearly injection, but still . . .

“Do you have something?” I asked.

He blinked, as if unsure what I meant, and then understanding widened his eyes. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his slacks. He produced a condom, which was exactly what I’d asked for, and yet couldn’t help being surprised to see.

“You raid the infirmary stock?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, condoms were a regular part of the supplies dropped onto the island by the government. I suppose they didn’t want us making more babies than necessary.” A touch of darkness hung on to those words. Several children had been born in Manhattan anyway, without doctors or the right medical attention.

“Well, their foresight is our good fortune.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He kissed me, then pulled back long enough to roll on the condom. “You’re certain?”

“Definitely.” I wanted him inside me so badly I ached with it. My body still trembled from my earlier orgasm and the need to see him fall apart again.

I grasped his length and guided him forward. Felt every stretch and slide as he pushed slowly, gently inside me. Once the ache of penetration disappeared, slow and gentle was off the table. I arched up to meet him, thrust after thrust, losing myself in the powerful man in me, around me. He’d taken control and I let him have it. I stopped trying to censor what came out of my mouth. I hitched my legs up around his hips and held on.

It lasted forever and ended too soon. He buried his face in my throat and moaned my name as he came, and I drifted in the aftermath, sated and happy and sad all at once. He kissed my face, my forehead, my throat, and I kissed him back, not caring that we were a sweaty mess. Fatigue settled over me like a warm blanket, weighing down my limbs and dimming my mind, and before I could stop myself, I drifted into darkness.