The realization of what this would mean, what the implications of his conditions were, sank in gradually. It wasn’t a sudden flash, but a slow trickle of thoughts seeping into Finn’s head, weighing him down with dread the longer it went on. An inevitable stream adding to the sea of despair building in his gut.
Denial was his first reaction, obviously. He wanted to refuse to accept the possibility, scour his mind for any potential options he had, only to become more and more certain that he didn’t see any potential ways to get out of this.
Nar couldn’t heal him with any of his abilities, and if there was a combination of power that could, it would demand he take his attention off of Viperia which none of them could afford. Radi’s power had been among the ones the Junior Ace captain had used to scour that drug from Viperia’s previous shifter form. It had worked, but this new venom? That wasn’t going to be enough. Intuitively, Finn just somehow knew.
The other solution, seeing another healer after the battle who somehow could manage it, assuming there was one who could cure the poisoning? That would require him to make it out of this. The idea sounded manageable, but he didn’t know how long he had. Not too long, if Radi’s comments were anything to go by.
And the healer wasn’t done speaking yet either, it seemed. “The only reason you are still alive is because your power interacted strangely with this toxin. I have no reference for this phenomenon, but I believe that if you do what you did more often, you might buy yourself more than the few minutes you have left.” The words left her mouth in a strained tone, clearly in an effort to maintain her composure.
“Minutes?” he answered, sounding exponentially more calm than he felt. Serene, even. “What about Calliope? She didn’t get poisoned?” His senses tracked every cubic centimeter of Lyra’s body but didn’t find anything amiss. Yet he asked all the same.
Radi shook her head. “No. I take it the two of you both were exposed to the smoke, and only you had an open wound, Shade?”
As he suspected, then. It was the cut. “Yes.”
Silence fell for a few moments. The adult heroine wore an anguished expression on her face underneath that tree-themed mask. Finn sensed her biting her lip before screwing her eyes shut and fishing a small case out of her pocket, holding it out to him.
“Earlier, I injected you with the necessary nutrients my patients require to keep up with my accelerated healing. In these capsules is a stabilizing agent that will slow the deterioration of your body. Take one whenever you start to feel sluggish,” she instructed.
It was only now that the weight of the situation had truly settled in that Finn began to feel numb, absently moving to grab the proffered case. Had he just accepted his fate? Was this an admission that there was something irreparably wrong with him? Yeah. Yeah, it was. His awareness told him so. The slow decline of his cells, the small black motes floating in his blood, latching into his bones and muscles and skin and making him weaker and weaker. Despite having been restored to full health moments ago, he already felt himself grow more tired and frail. He was decaying.
Lyra hurriedly stepped up next to him and reached for Radi’s other hand, taking it in her own quivering hands, her aura blazing in open grief, misery, and a miniscule ripple of hope. “You can do something. I know you can,” she said, voice on the verge of breaking down and sounding like her, without the usual Calliope filter she used on the field. “What if we did like ah, uh, a transplant or something? You can take whatever you need from me and give it to him. You’re a healer, aren’t you? Anything I can give, I’ll give. Please,” she begged as she brought the woman’s hand to her forehead in a bowing motion, openly sobbing now. “Please. I can’t lose him.”
Hearing those words, hearing Lyra plead for his life no matter the cost to herself, the heroine stood for a moment, then muttered something in a foreign language under her breath. At speaking volume, she replied, “I express my deepest regrets, to both of you.” She looked between them. “I never wanted to involve you children in any of this, and everything went wrong beyond what I expected. Not that it matters what I say. My words are meaningless to you. They solve nothing. I know that well. But I could not live with myself if I never faced you to admit my shortcomings… So. I must say, again, there is nothing more that I can do.”
Briefly, Finn thought he saw what it would look like if Lyra’s soul broke apart, but then her eyes widened and she looked towards him. “We can still keep you here. We wait for backup to arrive and then they’ll get other healers here, or a hero with a different power? Somebody could put you in stasis! We have to get somebody like that here. He’ll live longer if he doesn’t fight, right?” She asked as she glanced in Radi’s direction quickly. “He should!” she said to herself without waiting for an answer. “Shade, you can just stay here with me and I’ll guard you until someone else arrives, Radi might not be able to keep you topped up but she can try, and you’ve always been tough. You’ll make it through this if you don’t go back into the fight again.”
“His chances are…” Radi trailed off. It was clear what she meant. Staying here and trying to keep himself stable was a hope and prayer, at best.
For his part, Finn merely listened to her frantic, breathy rambling until she was done. As he did so, an odd resolve settled over him. It was similar to what he always felt and told himself, but it had a more final note to it, for lack of a better term. He knew he wasn’t going to change his mind.
“No,” he said softly.
The distress quickly ramped up in her aura, soaring beyond what he thought possible. “W-what do you…”
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“No.” The repeated word was more firm this time, conveying that it wasn’t up for debate. “I’m not hiding away.” He took a few steps away from them, turning towards the chaos.
He’d been observing the whole battle the whole time, and he could see that even with Casey’s power shining on other people, it wasn’t going their way. Aiden had gotten the buff several times, but it didn’t seem to be having a visible effect on his copied powers. Other heroes got substantially stronger but never enough to outclass Viperia herself, always unable to deliver that decisive blow necessary to put her down.
Homeland provided a buffer, some much needed breathing room through the use of timely distractions. Bodkin’s ability to create floating blue weapons and coat existing ones served as a substantial source of artillery while Mr. Cotherman just didn’t stay down, using Trooper gadgets that a normal human wouldn’t have the strength and resilience to handle in order to save people from being devoured by the enormous serpent, occasionally dealing superficial damage.
Overall, Finn was able to see where the battle was probably headed if he didn’t step in. And it was in a direction that he couldn’t allow it to, regardless of what else happened.
Because Mom was there.
Not particularly close to the battle. But well into the area that the majority of people had long since vacated. Her head turned this way and that while she walked around and searched. For him. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed her before. His senses obviously had. She’d been in his range the entire time. Yet that didn’t preclude him from glossing over her by virtue of not paying attention, apparently.
If she got close, the chances of her surviving the night would decrease precipitously. He wasn’t even going to entertain the thought of letting that happen. But what could he do? If he revealed his secret identity, she would come. Of that he had no doubt. If he told he communicated to her the fact that he was Shade, and she found out that he was fighting a supervillain gang boss right now, with the district in the process of evacuating? She would come here.
Meaning he had to do something else to keep her safe. What came to mind was… to lie. He felt awful for doing this, but there was no choice in his mind, really. It was either this or coming clean with disastrous consequences. With a simple flex of his power he directed her away from the battle, scrawling colored messages and arrows around her saying her son was located there. Far from the danger.
Relieved and guilt-ridden when she took the bait, he clenched his fist. His fingers were frustratingly weak, but he could move for now. That would have to do.
As for why he was fighting, he wanted to say that his mother was the only reason. He honestly did. Except it wasn’t. The main reason was that he was tired. Tired of running and licking his wounds after the fact. Tired of turning his back to the dangers he faced in costume even though he had spent his entire career as Shade preparing for someone incomparably more powerful.
It made no sense, now that he was thinking about it. The long term didn’t matter. He knew that. He wasn’t under any delusions that he would make it out of here anymore. But that just meant that he knew how important it was not to go out shamefully. If he took his fate lying down instead of going out fighting, what was he worth? How could he face himself knowing that he should’ve been in the battle making a difference instead of fleeing when things got serious?
Here in this moment, steeling himself for death, Finneas Allister acknowledged that he had no other option. The time for running away had passed; he’d known it going in, he knew it now.
Of course, Lyra didn’t feel the same way. She was incensed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him as hard as she could. “I’m serious!” she shouted. “You can’t leave me! You’re all I have left! Why aren’t you thinking about tomorrow?! If you go in there, you’ll die! Please just sit this one out! The fight doesn’t even matter that much, does it? Does it?” she pressed when he said nothing. Then her tone took on a hurt, tender tremor. “Or do you care more about getting your fists bloody than you do about me?”
“You know that’s not true,” Finn responded calmly.
“Isn’t it? Then stay with me.”
He gave a shake of his head in answer. “I can’t do that.”
A dozen different emotions flitted across her face and aura, eventually turning into a glare. “Are you actually doing this?” she asked, rage and desolation warring in her voice.
No more words needed to be exchanged, though. Instead, Finn signaled Casey in the distance, who was actively providing support for the battle by targeting various heroes with her ability. He got his grappling hook out and aimed it at the opposite building, ready to return to the action.
Sound faded away around him, prompting him to glance at the girl who’d stood by him since his early days as a vigilante.
“You know what?” she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Fuck you. I’ll never forgive you for leaving me alone, you know that?” Her voice broke. “Never.”
All he had for her was a resigned sigh. He shot his hook and pulled himself away from her. He could perceive the way she fell to her knees in tears when he scaled the building.
“Cal’s right,” Gridlock spoke over the comms, evidently having followed the entire exchange. His voice sounded a bit flat. Almost hollow.
“You’re going to try and convince me too?” Finn challenged.
He got a scoff in return. “No point. I’ve known you too long to not notice when you’ve made up your mind. I… you’re going to make it. That’s what I’m going with. I don’t know how true that is, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep going if I stop believing you’ll be back with us after this.”
At that, Finn felt an uncomfortable pang in his chest, but he buried it in the place where he buried everything else. He needed to be at his best for this. After some parting words.
“Jack,” he said gravely. He paused for a few seconds. What he was going to say next felt simultaneously like the easiest and hardest thing ever, but he managed. “Thank you. For being my best friend all these years, even though I’m such a bother.”
If Jack had any words left to say, he didn’t voice them. Finn smirked, amusing himself with the mental image of his friend sitting in his chair, too stunned to speak.
Inhaling deeply, his gaze focused ahead of him, he braced himself and gave the signal.
This time, when the glow illuminated him, Finn swore he needed nothing else to finish the fight.