Stitches walked towards the slumped form of his student, cautiously weaving from side to side as he did. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to make too much sound. He tried an awkward half-smile, speaking as he did.

"Uhhh... Bain, how are... good grief, this is hard."

Bain didn't react to him. He'd probably heard Stitches coming in before Stitches had even laid eyes on him. He simply breathed in, then let it out in a long sigh.

Slowly, Stitches walked towards him, and jerkily sat down on the bench next to him. Without saying anything, Bain stood up and lightly leaped on top of the center stone, which was high enough that Stitches couldn't easily follow him. Stitches immediately understood the gesture behind it, and a sharp pain stabbed his heart. He gasped, a sharp intake of breath he didn't need.

"Look. I'm - I'm not good at this, all right? I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard any of that."

Bain still didn't respond. Stitches could only imagine how he felt. Actually, he couldn't imagine what was going through Bain's head. He'd never - never - had anything like what he'd done to the young monster happen to himself.

He stubbornly continued, walking towards the stone and leaning on it, slumping to the ground with his back pressed against it. "I..."

His mouth went dry. Stitches strained for words, for any words, to try and explain what he'd done in a better light. To try and get Bain's trust back. To hear him say anything.

And unexpectedly, Bain finally spoke.

"Speak your feelings."

Stitches was confused. "What?"

Bain still didn't turn around, but continued. "Speak your feelings. It's something I learned from the Arithmetwins. If you don't know how you feel, say it out loud and see if it feels right."

With a sinuous, smooth movement, Bain slid off the stone and rounded it to return to the bench, standing in front of it. "I'm... mad at you." He released a short, dead laugh. "Never mind. I think I'm furious."

Stitches flinched as if he'd been punched. How on earth was he supposed to respond to that?

"I'm... disappointed. I thought I was disappointed in myself for falling for it so easily, or maybe for thinking I could become a hero. But after I thought about it some more, I realized I was fine with myself. I know I didn't do anything wrong."

Bain turned to face him, and Stitches could only stare in shock.

He'd seen Bain lose horrendously against Stitches, to the point where he hadn't even bothered trying to fight him. He'd seen him lose an arm for good. He'd even seen Bain in the Basement, a prison infamous for its sole purpose in containing only the very worst criminals and villains, but even then Bain had remained optimistic, certain that so long as Stitches was by his side, nothing could truly go wrong.

Now?

Now, he looked defeated. His shoulders were slumped in obvious sadness as if someone had died. In a way, someone had. The person he'd thought to be Stitches had unintentionally removed a mask that couldn't be replaced, and the facade he'd held in his mind was shattered.

"I'm disappointed in you."

Stitches physically recoiled at the words. He'd been impaled, stabbed, shot, hung and drowned. He'd been attacked in just about every way one could come up with. He'd been practically diced by Nahma during the fight (if it could have been called that) from so long ago. But nothing came close to the pang of sheer hurt he felt at those words. The worst part was that he knew Bain absolutely deserved to be disappointed in him.

"Bain, I-"

He didn't let Stitches finish. In fact, he hadn't appeared to even recognize that Stitches had spoken. "But... I miss you, too."

Stitches' jaw dropped. "Wh...what?"

Bain continued, tilting his head gently. "I miss you. I thought I wouldn't. I thought I'd hate you. I'm certain Nahma and the sheddings do, and I get the feeling I should. I mean, you made me think I could be a hero. That I'd found someone who looked past my claws and teeth and darkness and saw the real me. I couldn't have been more wrong about that."

He looked up to stare Stitches dead in the eye, and it took everything in Stitches' body not to look away. "Part of me wishes I'd never heard you and Amber and Firepower talking about it. I'd probably still be excited to tell you my arm's growing back, but now I don't think you'd care."

Stitches' eyes stung, and he swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Of course I'd care."

Bain slowly approached him until he was looming over him, the mushrooms in the ceiling casting a dark shadow. "How would I know? How can I possibly trust you after this? Everything I thought I knew about you was a lie. At least I know why you fought me so hard when you accepted me. It makes sense you'd want to make me fear you. Nahma thinks that the only way to truly beat someone is to make them too scared of you to even think they could beat you. Looks like you knew that too."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

He turned around and slumped onto the bench with a deep sigh. "Just so you know, Nahma did offer to become a hero."

Stitches inhaled sharply. Bain kept going. "I told him not to. He wouldn't have been happy doing it, though I know he would have done it anyway if he thought it'd have made me happy. But I told him not to."

He heaved in a breath, dragging it in with a pained gasp. "Isn't it crazy? You would have kept me as your sidekick, not really teaching me anything, for such a long time. Years, maybe. And you'd still be waiting for me to ask Nahma to become a hero. I'd still be waiting to be sworn in, to turn into the hero I wanted to be. The kind of hero I thought you were."

Bain shivered. "You can go. You'll never see me again. I won't come back to the Tower. I know it'd cause a lot of problems, and there's no way you'll want me to be your sidekick after this."

Stitches stood up, hands clenched into fists. He couldn't work around the gigantic ball stuck in his throat. What was he supposed to say? That he was sorry? That he was going to change? That of course he cared? That the moments he spent with Bain were the best memories he'd had in years?

Watching him save fourteen people from a construction building out of the corner of his eye while fighting. Battling alongside him in an attempt to beat a villain, and losing. Giving him the experience of human food. Laughing over a video game he was losing horribly.

How was he supposed to say any of that if Bain didn't trust him?

He realized it suddenly.

He didn't deserve Bain's trust.

And he couldn't live with that.

"It's called T.A.A.R.K.E."

Bain turned to look at him, confused. "What?"

Stitches continued resolutely. "That's what Tinker calls it. Telekinetic Absorption, Amplification, and Redistribution of Kinetic Energy. I always called it Momentum Field."

Bain stood up, his curiosity mounting despite himself. "What are you talking about?"

Stitches stood straight and tall, speaking confidently and with infinite assurance. Everything inside him told him that this was exactly what he needed to say, and screw the consequences. "It's a thin field just above my skin. I can absorb physical impacts and amplify them, holding them for later. I can use the resulting energy to either improve my strength and speed, or even lift objects telekinetically."

Bain's eyes widened. "You're..."

He kept going. He knew exactly what he was doing.

There was a reason superheroes kept their powers a secret. Once you knew how an ability worked, it was only a matter of time before you figured out how to counter it. It was because of that fact that no super, hero or villain, said a word about their powers unless they trusted someone absolutely.

And Stitches, for the first time since he'd told Tinker thirty years ago, was giving the secret away. Giving it to Bain, who he'd betrayed. Who he'd stabbed in the back.

"It's not as effective against points or sharp edges, so I have to grab, dodge, or deflect that type of attack. I can compress the field into extremely small areas, which I usually locate around the tips of my fingers, and further increase its power that way. The smaller the field, the greater the result."

Several drops of acid hit the ground at Bain's feet.

"I can also make illusions, faking my location. I can cast my voice to these illusions. It's how I appeared to move so fast when I fought you - I made an illusion walk away and stood right in front of you."

Staring at the ground as he recited his weaknesses, Stitches saw Bain's taloned feet walk towards him, coming to a stop directly in front of him. "Aside from immense regeneration, it's entirely possible to get me out of a fight be severing all major limbs. I can't get them back without a significant amount of-"

He was cut off abruptly as Bain swept him into a hug, lifting him entirely off the ground. Tears were streaming from Stitches' eyes at this point, and he was starting to gasp, making deep shuddering breaths. They simply stayed there for a moment, both of them silently grieving the death of the facade they'd been keeping up. There was simply no way to salvage that relationship. It was based on a lie, and nothing with a false foundation could be maintained for very long.

Several moments later, Bain released Stitches. The moment he did, Stitches tackled Bain in his own hug, placing his forehead against Bain's chest and allowing the tears to spill from his eyes onto the ground, mixing with the acid there. "I am so sorry, Bain. I am so, so sorry. You never have to forgive me."

It was a long time before any words were spoken, both of them content to stay there in their quiet, vulnerable state. Standing back, Stitches rubbed at his eyes, chuckling sadly. "Look at me. I didn't know I could even-"

Bain interrupted him. "Stitches... I forgive you."

Stitches' eyes began to water again, and Bain hugged him tightly again, crouching so he could place his chin on Stitches' shoulder. "Can you hear me? I forgive you. I'm making that decision. No one's making it for me. No one's forcing me to do it. I forgive you, Stitches."

Stitches choked, alternating between smiling and wincing. "Good grief, Bain. I thought I was supposed to be the adult here."

Bain released him and sat down, crashing against the giant stone behind them. "I learned a lot about apologies from the Arithmetwins. They give really good advice, even if they're not real."

Stitches nodded, wiping the wetness from his eyes as he sat down next to him. Bain eventually leaned down, putting his head on Stitches' shoulder. "Yeah, no kidding. I think I might check them out sometime."

It was several minutes before the silence was broken. "Hey, Bain. I get it if you don't, but... do you still want to be my sidekick?"

Bain looked at him in shock. "Even though Nahma isn't going to be a hero?"

Stitches winced. "Yeah, I know. I don't care anymore. Honestly, Bain, I just want to show you how to be a hero. For real this time."

Bain slowly nodded, then shook his head. Stitches flinched. What had he been expecting?

"I... I forgive you. I think I even trust you now. But I need some more time to think about how I'm feeling."

Stitches agreed internally. "All right." He stood up, easing the aches out of his back. "Well, when you feel up to it, come to Hundredth and Washington. It took me a bit, but we've got ourselves a territory."

He was stunned by the speed with which Bain seized his shoulders, and stared wide-eyed into Bain's intense eyes. "We have a territory? And it's ours!?" Before Stitches could respond, Bain let go of him, dropping him. He hadn't even realized his feet had left the ground.

Pacing around the room, Bain thought out loud. "We have a territory." He rushed Stitches suddenly, shaking him by the shoulders with a massive grin. "We have a territory!" He let go with an abject gasp. "Wait, if we have a territory, then no one's protecting it right now! What are we waiting for? Let's go!" He sped out of the room at a full sprint, leaving Stitches behind.

Stitches rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. What on earth had he done to deserve someone like Bain?

He figured out the answer pretty quickly. He didn't deserve Bain.

But he sure as heck needed him.