The sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand forced Madeline out of a sleep she desperately didn’t want to wake from. She didn’t want to greet the day that awaited her; perfectly content to just lay there, hiding under her covers until the calendar ticked over to the next date along. She didn’t want to face the realities that today would force upon her. If she just closed her eyes and drowned everything out, she could pretend none of the past five years ever happened; that Rosie was just in the bathroom, and would come back to bed at any moment.
Her phone rang again, and Madeline grumbled, reaching over to answer it.
“Leave me alone, Viv,” she muttered hoarsely into the receiver.
“Damn, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, huh?” Vivienne replied.
Anger flared in Madeline’s gut. “Don’t fucking poke me today, Vivienne. Not today.”
There was a silence over the phone. “I… I’m sorry, you’re absolutely right. That was mean. I was just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess. Sorry.”
Madeline sighed. “What do you want?”
“I was just checking up. I know today’s difficult for you. Want me to come over? I can make breakfast.”
Breakfast meant getting out of bed. It meant waking up and coming face to face with the truth of the day. It also meant scrambled eggs with bits of ham and cherry tomatoes. A difficult choice, to be sure.
At the continued silence of Madeline’s internal debate, Viv dug deeper. “Come on, you know Rosie wouldn’t want you to rot in bed all day.”
All the assumption did was stoke the fire inside of her. “Don’t presume to know what she would want.”
“You know I’m right, though. Come on, you won’t even have to do anything. I’ll even do the dishes after. Please?”
The thing that sucked was that she was right. The last thing Rosie would want would be for Madeline to waste her life mourning her. She groaned loudly, making sure that Vivienne could hear her dissatisfaction.
“Fine.”
Immediately, Vivienne appeared at the side of Madeline’s bed. She was used to the sudden teleportation by now, but it still annoyed her how quickly she showed up. She wanted at least a little more time to pretend she didn’t exist before being forced to interact with anyone.
“Come on, snowball. Up you get.”
Madeline groaned again, burying her face in the pillow. “Get out of my room.”
“Say please.”
Madeline grabbed a spare pillow and hucked it at Vivienne, who teleported to the other side of the room and pulled the covers off of the bed in retaliation.
“Oh my god, you’re naked!”
“Karma,” Madeline muttered, a smile tugging at her lips. She would never admit it, but Viv’s antics were a little amusing.
“Fine, I’ll give you a few minutes!” Viv called, now on the other side of the bedroom door. “Don’t take too long, though. Breakfast will be ready soon!”
Madeline sighed, sinking back into the pillow to enjoy her last few moments of restful bliss.
—
“So, what are your plans for today?”
Madeline shrugged, running a hand through her dirty-blonde mullet and pulling the tangles out of it. It had been an impulse choice of haircut made in a half-drunken, half-miserable stupor, but she would be lying if she said she hated it. It added to her butchy vibe. “I dunno. Visit Rosie’s grave, I suppose. Cry a lot. Drink myself to sleep again.”
Vivienne frowned. “Come on, Maddie. you agreed to stop doing that.”
“What are you, my mom?”
“No, I actually care about your wellbeing.”
Madeline snorted. “You’ve got me there.”
They were sitting at the kitchen counter, finishing the scrambled eggs Viv had made. By now, Madeline was well and truly awake, and that really sucked. But, time waited for no woman, and today would have happened, whether she got out of bed or not. Today was the five-year anniversary of Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes’ death, and sleeping in wouldn’t change that. It would just protect Madeline’s consciousness from having to recognise that she’d been a widow for five years for just a few hours longer. Kicked out of home at 14, married to her childhood best friend at 18, widowed by a monster attack at 21, semi-recovering alcoholic and washed up superhero at 26. What a shit-crock of a life.
Okay, maybe ‘washed up’ was being a little harsh on herself. As far as superheroes went, she was respected for her work. Though she was currently on indefinite hiatus for mental health reasons, she was technically the co-leader of the Heroes Union, and the other heroes did value her opinions, whenever she was present to give them. The problem was that she wasn’t really doing anything else with her life. Vigilantism was generally looked down upon, and would get heroes arrested if they tried to do it with any degree of frequency, given their solid lack of secret identities. They were allowed to step in in the case of violent crime, but they had no real power to arrest, just protect. Most hero work was just fighting off monster attacks and helping rescue civilians in the aftermath of any disasters, which left them with a lot of free time. Of course, there were the occasional villains that showed up, using their powers for their own gain and too dangerous for the police to go near, but in a city like Tombguard, with all of its heroes, most would-be villains had the good sense to try their luck elsewhere.
All that was to say; Madeline didn’t have a job. ‘Freeloader’ was a common pejorative used for superheroes by people who didn’t like that their taxes supported the Union, but in her case, they were right. She spent all of her time moping around, occasionally doing some work when the Godling decided to make another lamppost sentient or whatever - and then spent all of her leftover Union paycheck (after rent and food and other basic necessities) on alcohol and weed. In an ideal world, she would actually be contributing something to society; working a job, and then popping out to kick some flesh-and-stone creature’s butt when the city needed her, but she just… Wasn’t Doing That. At the very least, she could take a more active role in her hero work; go on patrols, monitor the city, help little old ladies cross the street. Do some actual volunteer work if she couldn’t find a paying job. Life was just a mess at the moment, and though she felt like she was slowly getting better, she still really just missed her wife, and it was exceedingly hard to move past that grief. Especially on days like today.
Viv put a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You know what we should do? Go on patrol.”
Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you haven’t left the house in a week. Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll get some sunlight, do some parkour, feel the wind rushing through our hair!” Her voice lowered from its jubilance, becoming quieter; more sympathetic. “Once we’ve had enough we can stop by to see Rosie, alright?”
Madeline looked her in the eye, trying to see through her milk-chocolate irises to the intention underneath. “Why do you care so much about me? Why go out of your way for me like this? I don’t get it.”
The question gave Vivienne pause. She sighed, reaching up and putting her hand on the top of Madeline’s head.
“Because you’re my friend, you numbskull.” She ruffled Madeline’s hair. “I’m not just gonna drop you because you’re having a hard time. I care about you, and I’m not gonna stop caring when it becomes difficult. You were always there for me when I joined the Union, even through my worst days. Now, it’s my turn to do the same for you. Everyone needs a little helping hand sometimes.”
Madeline looked down at her empty plate, tears threatening to form in her eyes. “I… Thanks, Viv. I’m really glad to have you as a friend, even if… I don’t always act like it.”
“Likewise,” Viv replied, playfully punching her shoulder. “Now, suit up! Let’s go!”
Madeline raised an arm and sniff-checked her armpit. “Yeah, that’s not happening until I shower.”
—
Alright, Madeline could admit when she’d been wrong. Being out in the sun was pretty damn nice. It was a beautiful day, and putting her costume on for the first time in weeks felt great, even if it didn’t fit quite as well as it used to on account of the muscle she’d lost lazing around. The wind tousled her hair as she ran and leaped from building to building, her arms and legs singing with exertion and endorphins, heart racing in her chest. She felt alive. A laugh bubbled up from deep within her as she summoned a platform of ice beneath her feet, using it to launch herself up to a higher ledge and vault over, landing in a roll on the next roof.
“Woohoo!” Viv called as she did a backflip off the next ledge, only to miss the landing and fall in between the buildings. She reappeared back on the roof and laughed. “Oops, messed that one up.”
Madeline shook her head fondly. “Teleportation has made you far too reckless.”
Viv wiggled her hips, poking out her butt. “Hey, if you got it, you gotta flaunt it.”
Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’ve ‘got it’? Because the only thing I see is a flat washboard.”
Viv blew a raspberry, flipping her off. “My ass is great and you know it.”
Madeline chuckled. “Sure. I-”
“Hey, stop! Thief!”
The shout caught both of their attention. They shared a look and walked to the edge of the roof, peering over the street, where a man was running in their direction, groceries clutched in his arms.
“Shoplifter,” Madeline observed. “None of our business.” It would be hypocritical of her to go after him, anyway; she’d had no qualms stealing food to feed herself in the past. She understood the plight.
“Man’s gotta eat,” Vivienne said.
Madeline had seen all she needed to see. They were about to turn away when another commotion set off near the intersection. A figure in black leapt from the passenger door of a car and sped down the sidewalk towards the man, moving faster than a regular human had any right to. Their black armour glinted in the sunlight as they crashed into him, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms behind his back.
“Who the hell is that?” Viv asked.
Madeline shrugged. “I dunno. Their armour looks pretty expensive, though.”
An older man walked up, hands behind his back. Viv groaned. “Ew, I hate that jerk.”
Andreas de Vygon was a loud and proud anti-unionist and a staunch hater of superheroes of all types. Also, a police captain with a history of unsavoury allegations, all covered up by his rich friends. ‘Jerk’ was putting it kindly, in Madeline’s experience. Though, from the way he was acting around this new person, perhaps ‘hypocrite’ would be a better adjective.
“Backup is on the way to take him to the station. Good work, Seven.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Thank you, sir.”
Something about their voice - even muddied by an obvious voice changer as it was - stuck in Madeline’s brain. She couldn’t tell what it was, but something about the way they spoke was familiar. It wasn’t the accent – that was as nondescript as an accent could be, as far as she could tell. It was just… something.
“Well, shit. A superhero working with the police. That’s a new one,” Viv said.
“Mhm.”
“Wanna go down there and meet them? See what they’re about?”
Madeline thought about it. This new person was intriguing, but not enough to risk having to deal with de Vygon’s bullshit. They were probably just a cop sympathiser who got lucky enough to be born with powers, anyway. Going by their armour, they were clearly sponsored, too. Not worth the trouble.
“Nah. Andreas de Bigot would probably just aggressively misgender me again.”
Viv snorted. “Yeah, true.”
Madeline was referencing a press release the man had done, addressing the public a few days after Rosie’s death. He’d referred to Madeline multiple times as Rosie’s ‘husband,’ despite the fact that she was very publicly a woman, including on her ID, and had already been years deep into her transition when she made her debut on the city stage. She couldn’t imagine his views had changed much in the intervening years.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
They took a more casual pace as they continued, hopping between buildings where possible and teleporting where it wasn’t. The sight of the scene below them had sobered Madeline up some. She couldn’t count how many nights she’d spent in a holding cell during her teen years after getting caught pocketing things from corner stores. Sometimes she would get lucky and just get beaten to a pulp by the owner in the alley outside, but most of the time the cops would be called, and her ice powers weren’t nearly refined enough back then to help her get away. She’d be more likely to slip and skin her knee. It was a dark time for her before Rosie’s family took her in. She felt for the poor guy who just got caught.
They’d been making their way along for a good few minutes when a loud crash sounded behind them. Madeline didn’t even have to turn to know that the Godling was up to Its bullshit again.
“Sorry, Snowball. Looks like you’ll actually have to do your job today.”
“Lay off it, Viv,” she sighed. Sure enough, when she turned, a giant glob of pinkish flesh had risen from the road, and was very angry at the world. That was definitely going to mess up traffic for the next few days. Oh well, it didn’t look that tough. Time to actually do her job, and just maybe get a little catharsis out of it. For Rosie.
Vivienne grabbed her hand and they jumped into the fray.
—
“Well, that was easy.”
“Yup.”
Madeline stared at the mess she’d just made of the monster; riddled with holes from the giant ice spears she’d thrown at it. Generating that much ice from the air always took a lot of effort, so she’d worked up a decent sweat, but the melting point was also a lot lower, so it’d clear itself out quickly. Her job as a Union frontliner was done; now it was the cleanup crew’s turn.
“Thanks for the assist,” she said, turning to Vivienne. “That would have been a lot harder if I had to focus on dodging too.”
“That’s what I’m here for!” Viv beamed.
“So, what now?”
Vivienne looked back towards the scene with the cop-hero. Madeline followed her gaze. They were still there, looking in this direction.
“Oh, there’s my uncle!”
“The detective?”
“Yeah. I know you don’t like cops, and, okay, you have good reason not to, but trust me, he’s a decent guy. Mostly a desk jockey these days.”
“I don’t really care,” Madeline muttered, truly apathetic about the whole thing. She’d met the guy a handful of times on patrols, and there was no reason to doubt Viv’s take on him. From what she could tell, he was just a guy stuck in his job because he’d already wasted too much of his life doing it, now only doing the bare minimum to get by so he wouldn’t lose his only source of income. Honestly, he just seemed kinda sad most of the time. In the lonely, alcoholic sort of way. Hm, on second thought, maybe they’d get along.
“Wanna go say hi?”
“Not really-”
She didn’t even have time to get the words out before Viv was reaching for her.
“-DON’T fucking teleport me.” She flinched away.
Viv got that fucking look on her face that she always got whenever there was a line she knew she could push without getting in too much trouble. A sinking feeling spread through Madeline’s gut and she internally resigned herself to her fate of having to speak to a cop.
Sure enough, the little shit disappeared and Madeline felt a hand on her back. A split second later her ears popped and she found herself only a few feet away from the group of pigs and their little superhero helper. Just great.
“Fuck! I told you not to do that, Viv!”
She put her hands up in surrender – but notably did not apologise. Madeline was going to remember that, and she was going to hold it against her so hard.
“Hey, Uncle Steve!”
The unkempt man cleared his throat. “Good morning, Vivienne. Nice work out there. You too, Madeline.”
Madeline grunted in acknowledgement. She could feel eyes on her from under that rent-a-cop’s faceless black visor. Studying her. Intensely. It was uncomfortable.
They were surprisingly short up close. Granted, Madeline was decently tall, coming in at 6 feet, so a lot of people were surprisingly short to her. Especially those with the aura that this over-armoured supersoldier had. They looked wound up like a coiled spring, ready to jump out and strike the moment the order came through. Still… there was something there, gnawing at the back of her mind. The armour was pretty form fitting, and something about their shape just… Well, to be honest, it reminded her of Rosie. Not that Rosie had a monopoly on her particular body shape. She was just on Madeline’s mind a lot, on account of what day it was. It wasn’t important, she concluded. Just her mind grasping at its usual straws.
“Thanks!” Viv replied. She turned to the Rosie shapematch. “So, a new hero, huh? What’s your name?”
Andreas stepped in before they had a chance to respond, putting a possessive hand on their shoulder. “We’re done here, Seven.”
Just like that, they were led away back to the car they came from; now sitting lonely near the intersection. All other traffic had cleared off in the wake of the monster attack.
“Well,” Madeline said. “That was really fuckin’ strange.”
“That’s an understatement,” Steve said. “We were only informed about this yesterday. They’re calling it Project Genesis, whatever that means. Super confidential stuff, apparently. I never thought a hero would actually be allowed to work within our ranks.”
“Who are they?” Viv asked.
Steve shrugged. “De Vygon only ever referred to them as ‘Seven’. I don’t think I caught a gender or anything. Though… when that monster popped up, they seemed afraid of it. Could be something. I think I also heard the captain mention memory loss to them, too. Maybe they're amnesiac?”
“That sounds wildly unethical,” Madeline muttered under her breath. An amnesiac superhero, hiding their face, with a number for a name, who’s afraid of monsters, working under an almost-definitely corrupt police captain. Everything about this was screaming ‘red flag.’
“Should we ask them to join the Union?” Viv pondered. “All of the heroes in Tombguard have to be part of it, don’t they?”
Madeline sighed, pulling out the tome of job-knowledge in her head. “Legally, they don’t have to join if they don’t want to, so long as they’re independently licensed. From the looks of things, I’d say they probably are. Extend an invitation if you really want, I don’t care either way.”
Things would probably be safer if the supercop was under the same regulations as the rest of the Union, but she didn’t say that out loud. Honestly, they gave her the creeps. She’d rather stay away where possible.
Steve stretched, cracking his back. “Well, I’d better get going. Gotta get this guy processed. You two take care.”
Madeline didn’t acknowledge him as he got in the car and drove off. That whole interaction had put her in a bit of an odd mood. She didn’t really feel like patrolling anymore.
Viv picked up on it. “You had enough?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Take me home.”
—
Madeline clutched the bouquet of flowers as she made her way through the rows of graves, her chest aching. Vivienne hadn’t accompanied her into the cemetery proper, just dropping her off at the gates and letting her go on her own. She appreciated it. As much as she cared for the girl, she wanted to spend some alone time with Rosie today. Though, it seemed as though her wish wouldn’t be granted; at least, not yet.
Standing at Rosie’s grave were two people; a man and a woman, holding each other as they looked at the headstone. Manny and Eleanor Garcia. Rosie’s parents. Madeline sucked in a breath and approached.
Manny was the first one to notice her presence. He turned to her, a sad smile adorning his face. “Madeline. It’s good to see you.”
“Hey,” she replied, voice rough. “Likewise.”
“We’ve missed you this past year,” Eleanor said.
Madeline hummed. It was the truth; she’d been neglecting paying them a visit lately. They were better parents to her than her bio-parents had ever been, and she loved them dearly. Honestly, she owed them her life. It was just… difficult being in that house without Rosie around. Living was difficult without Rosie around, to be fair, but she was trying to work past that. With the recent dip in her mental health, it was just easier to avoid anything that reminded her too strongly of her late wife, in-laws' house included.
Upon realising that she clearly wasn’t going to get a response, Eleanor changed the subject. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
Madeline managed a smile, running a hand through her mullet. “Thanks. It was… mostly an accident, but I like it, too.”
Awkward silence stretched between them. The wind rustled through the trees, birds chirping and singing like this wasn’t the anniversary of the worst day in the world. Madeline looked at her in-laws, analysing their features and searching for any sign of Rosie. There were hints of her, here and there; in Eleanor’s thick, wavy hair, and the shape of her eyes; in Manny’s wide nose and tan skin. She had her dad’s laugh lines and her mom’s fierce personality. It was a small comfort; being able to see parts of her, still alive and moving, not buried six feet beneath the dirt.
Manny sighed and put an arm out towards her. “Enough of this, Maddie. We’re not strangers. Come here.”
Madeline wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull. She stepped into his hold, sinking against his side as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Tears prickled at her eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there recently. I miss you guys.”
“You know you’re always welcome to stay with us,” Eleanor said. “You’re family. Just as much our daughter as Rosalyn was.”
Madeline bit her lip, trying not to cry too hard. “Th-thank you. Things… Things have been really difficult lately. Just getting out of bed is hard most days. I don’t really have the energy to spare for anything but surviving. That’s… That’s why I’ve been vacant.”
Manny kissed her head. “We’ll always look after you, cariño. If you need help, we’ll be there.”
Madeline smiled. “I’ll think about it. Thank you both.”
The silence that came over them was far more amicable this time around. Madeline stared at Rosie’s gravestone, thinking about how her wife was just underneath her, only six feet away. She was so close, yet Madeline would never truly get to see her face again, cursed to forever catch fleeting, teasing glimpses of her in picture frames and lookalikes. Her body yearned for Rosie’s, whole and real and alive; not just a frozen, flat image of a painted expression. What she wouldn’t give for just one more night with her…
“Hard to believe it’s already been five years,” she muttered, bottom lip quivering a little.
Hold it back, Madeline. At least until Rosie’s parents leave. Don’t let them see how broken you still are.
Manny hummed. “Some mornings I still expect to hear her running downstairs into the kitchen.”
“I still think she’s gonna be next to me when I wake up,” she admitted.
“Sometimes I hear noises at night, and my first instinct is still that it’s you two staying up late again,” Eleanor said, voice breaking a little.
For some reason, that was what broke her. Her fragile hold snapped and a sob tore from her throat, and from there it was hopeless. Manny’s arms cradled her and she buried her face in his coat, shoulders bouncing as she bawled. Another pair of arms encircled her, comforting in their warmth. It didn’t quell the hurt, though. It didn’t fill the hole left in her heart.
Why was this still so painful? Wasn’t time supposed to make it better? It had been five damn years, and Madeline was sick of feeling so miserable, but every time she seemed to be healing, something would remind her and she would tumble all the way back down again. After the first year, she’d been doing good; working, participating in the Union, just keeping busy to distract herself. Yes, she had some unsavoury coping mechanisms at the time, but she was functioning, and she was functioning for a while. About a year and a few months ago, though, her mental health took a dive and she’d been an absolute wreck ever since. It was like the first few months after Rosie’s death all over again, only it just never ended. It wasn’t fair. She’d been coping. She’d been getting on with her life. Moving on, like Rosie would want her to. Now, she was just back in a pit, and every time she tried to climb out, the walls would crumble under her fingers and she’d fall back down. It just… felt so hopeless. Some days, she just wanted to lie in that pit and let the dirt bury her for good, so she could be with Rosie again. The thought was far more tempting than it should’ve been.
She pulled back from Manny, wiping her eyes. “Thanks…”
He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Anytime, mija. We’ll give you some space with her. After that, would you like to come over for dinner?”
She nodded, unable to form the words to properly reply. The two of them smiled softly, before turning and leaving her alone at the grave.
Madeline turned back towards the sun-warmed stone, reading the words engraved on it.
Rosalyn Garcia-Holmes
Beloved daughter and wife. Activist and Hero. Firestarter.
Gave her life for the people of Tombguard.
“Screw Billy Joel, I started it.”
Madeline smiled sadly at the quote, remembering the day Rosie said it. She kneeled on the grass, placing the bouquet down next to the headstone.
“Hey, Rosie. I’ve been missing you a lot, lately. I, um… I hope you’re sleeping well.”
Madeline didn’t really know what to say. She had so many thoughts in her head regarding Rosie, but now that she wanted to say them out loud, nothing came to her. Maybe it was for the best. Rosie would understand, either way. Madeline didn’t want to disturb her rest with pointless ramblings. She took a deep breath, trying to reorganise her thoughts, and spoke again, reaching out to touch the headstone.
“I… I love you. So, so much. I still miss you every single day. I hope you’re well, wherever you are. I hope… I hope I’ll get to see you there someday, too. I… Fuck, Rosie. I can’t even put it into words. I just… I just wish you were here right now. I wish I could hold you again. I wish I could hear your voice from something other than recordings. I wish you… I wish you could give me some goddamn advice on how to get the hell out of this… this fucking slump! I feel so fucking pathetic. I… I need help and I don’t know what to do… I just… don’t know what to do anymore…”
Her tears started pouring again, right as her words dried up. She put her forehead against the warm stone and closed her eyes, reminiscing about times long past, imagining her lover’s hands stroking through her hair, just like she used to.