There was a crash, a tremor, then Matt was falling. The sky fled from his reach though his hand scrabbled to grasp it, his pale fingers closing around nothing. There was a rising in his stomach and a lightness in his limbs, and the buildings grew tall on all sides, a forest of looming glass. Then abruptly all movement ceased – there was a sudden, momentary flicker of blinding pain-
And then nothing. Darkness.
Then he woke up.
“Huuuuuuhhhh-”
Matt’s eyes snapped open. All at once every one of his senses came rushing back, overwhelming, clamouring to be heard. The sounds of the city, of swirling wind and whispered murmurs, distant sirens, rumbling of vehicles and the far‑off thack-thack of helicopter blades. The dry smell of dust, of sweat, heat and garbage, acrid smoke and the taste of metallic blood. The feel of his heartbeat, rhythmic thuds which had never before been absent and now returned shockingly, unceasingly loud. The hard, rough surface of the road pressed into his back, the scrape of coarse asphalt rugged and grating against his fingertips. Bright images assailing his eyes. The grey‑blue sky, the buildings craning their necks down to stare at him – the circle of people doing the same.
Have you ever felt peace? True, absolute, infinite peace borne of the total abandonment of care and self and purpose? In that moment, that darkness, that was what Matt had found. Peace. Devoid of thoughts, devoid of feelings, devoid of life. It was no experience he had ever experienced, yet it was there now, an indelible pinprick inside his memory, a nanosecond of true black. Or maybe an eternity. Time had not mattered; no, had not existed. There was no change, no gain, no loss. It had not been rest, but utter release, devoid of dreams or weariness.
Slowly Matt sat up, seeds of panic blooming within his ribcage, a feeling of such abject wrongness, because he- he could feel again, he could breathe again, no, he shouldn’t… His eyes strained against the light and his breath strained against his lungs and he… he was wrong. Everything felt wrong, messy and wet and hot and dry and cold and loud and painful, and he was tumbling, he was choking, acidic saliva threatening to close his throat as his fingers scrapped rough against reality.
He lifted his gaze to find Jane standing over him; and in that moment, Matt knew without knowing from where this terror stemmed.
“What have you done?” he whispered. For no man was meant to know non‑existence. No man was supposed to return, carrying that black splinter in his mind.
*****
Matt sat on the remnants of a collapsed brick wall, feet on the footpath, keeping his own quiet, downcast counsel as the Legion’s healer Editha examined him. Through the city, emergency services had arrived in force – the National Guard and Army marching in detachments down the streets, fixing damage, attending to the wounded. Most of them didn’t spare Matt a glance, though the few that did lingered for a confused second look. The day’s chaos and death shrouded Matt’s normal celebrity beneath a veil shared by every other civilian survivor; silent, distant‑eyed, caked in dust and drying blood.
“Open your mouth,” Editha requested. Matt complied, obedient yet resigned, and the small healer stuck in a wooden tongue depressor. “Say ‘ahhh’.”
“Ahhh.”
“Good.” She put the strangely pleasant‑tasting stick away and felt petite fingers around underneath Matt’s jaw. “Glands feel fine.” Editha placed her palm on the back of Matt’s forehead, then held his wrist and began counting. “No fever. Pulse… 80. Bit low, considering.”
“Considering I was just dead,” Matt noted, making no attempt to restrain his bitterness.
“Yes,” Editha replied, her voice level and dry, “Considering that.” She withdrew a small hammer with a beige plastic triangular head from her pocket and tapped first one and then the other of Matt’s knees. “Reflexes fine. Pupil dilation-” she pocketed the hammer, drew a pen‑torch and shone a light in his eyes, “-normal.” The healer paused and took a step back. “How do you feel?”
“Physically or mentally?”
The corners of Editha’s mouth twitched in what was either minor amusement or the beginnings of a frown. “Perhaps the wrong question.” She considered him for a moment, one hand perched tentative on her dainty waist. “You seem fine. Normal even.”
“Thanks.”
“Is there any pain?”
“Physically or mentally?” Matt repeated darkly.
“Either.” The seriousness of Editha’s tone didn’t waver. “Anything abnormal.” She glanced behind her, perhaps making sure they were alone. “This is new territory for me too.”
Matt let out a small sigh.
“I’m… unsettled,” he told her finally, “Jittery. Having trouble marshalling my resources. But nothing hurts. I can see clearly. I hear fine. Everything’s moving.”
“Nothing’s numb?”
“Nothing’s numb. I don’t have a headache. I don’t feel hot.”
“Any insatiable desire for human flesh?”
Matt glanced up at her, a bit taken aback. The healer’s face split into a small, apologetic smile.
“Black humour. Sorry.”
“No,” said Matt, “It was funny. I’m just… I guess I’m struggling to get in the mood.”
“Understandable.” Editha glanced again over her shoulder. “Look,” she said, turning back to Matt, “If it’s any consolation, as far as I can tell you’re perfectly healthy. When I put my hands on you, I don’t get the sense anything’s broken. Usually you can tell. Everything points to you being in normal human condition.” She paused. “Do you feel like you’re missing your soul?”
Matt made a face. “Is that a standard ER question?”
“Are you a standard ER patient?”
“Good point.” Matt let out a deep sigh, then reluctantly gave it due consideration. “No,” he eventually answered, as a jeep full of khaki soldiers drove past, huddled around one crimson‑clad figure at their centre, “Everything feels… okay.”
“Okay,” said Editha. She looked down at him, her expression torn between sadness and knowing. “I guess we’re just left with the big disturbing non‑medical questions then aren’t we?”
“Yeppp.” Matt shifted his legs and slid his hands beneath his thighs, rocking slightly forward, gazing off at the broken streets, the smoke and rubble. Editha grimaced.
“Look,” she told him, “I’ve got to heal other people. But I’m booking you in for another consult in twenty‑four hours. We need to monitor for changes. Plus,” she added, half‑joking, “I’ve watched a lot of Romero movies.”
“Very reasonable,” Matt replied. He indicated with his chin over towards the battle zone. “Were there many wounded?”
“On our side? A few. Bunch of cops panicking and getting themselves injured, though others made a good accounting. Most of them have been taken care of. It’s just…”
Editha’s voice trailed off and she shifted in place, decidedly uncomfortable. Matt’s brow furrowed.
“What? What’s the issue?”
“The healing’s not for the living.” Editha’s mouth was a hard, thin line. “We’re doing everyone from the grey zone.”
Matt’s face paled.
“Yeah,” said Editha, mirroring his expression, “That’s about my take on it too.”
“What happened to them?”
“After the shockwave? Every single one of them dropped dead.” She hesitated, thin lips twitching. “Well, dropped more dead. Actually dead. They stopped moving.” The healer gave a small shrug, as if trying to convince herself they were discussing nothing more worrying than an interesting case of kidney stones. “The work’s actually not that difficult. I thought the big ones were all going to require surgery, but if you keep healing them long enough they just sort of… shrink back to normal.”
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“Normal and dead.”
“Oh yes. Very much dead.”
“I’m guessing there are plans to change that,” Matt murmured. He gazed off over the now quiet devastation, searching listlessly for a figure in white and gold.
“You guess correct.”
They lapsed into silence.
“This feels wrong,” Matt muttered.
“I’m sure not going to get much help from the AMA advice line,” Editha replied, keeping the reply decidedly neutral, though it sounded like she agreed.
In the distance the pearlescent figure Matt had been searching for broke away from a group of Acolytes and soldiers. Matt watched as her eyes swept over the battlefield and found him. She began marching forward. Editha followed his gaze.
“I better go,” she said, watching Jane approaching. Matt shook his head.
“You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Not a hundred percent what I was concerned about.” She flicked Matt a quick, guilty glance. “Not that I’m saying anything. I know you two are-”
“Were. In a past life,” he muttered, dark. The corner of Editha’s mouth flicked in a subtle grimace as Jane crossed the last of the gap between them, gold cape billowing in the wind.
“How is he?” she demanded, levelling the healer with a stare.
“Perfectly healthy,” Editha reported, “No issues.”
“Good. They’re getting the bodies laid out.”
“I’ll get right to it.” With only a single discrete glance backwards of mingled concern, the small healer set off towards Times Square and the field of greater disaster, leaving Matt and Jane alone.
For a few long seconds the couple remained silent and apart from one another, Matt sitting on the brick wall averting his eyes, Jane standing looking down at him, her hands on her hips. Finally Jane broke the silence, her voice laced with warmth and worry.
“Hey,” she said, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want someone to take you home?” The moment the battle was over, the city‑wide Disruptance field that had been preventing teleportation had just… stopped. Whoever was behind all this had either destroyed the device or devices, or simply turned them off.
“What home?” Matt replied, the words perhaps coming out angrier than he might have wanted. Jane frowned.
“Morningstar. Obviously.”
“No thank you.”
“You’ll be safe there.”
Matt kept his mouth closed to prevent any of a thousand burning comebacks leaping unbidden from his tongue. Instead, he forced himself to swallow, looked up and met Jane’s gaze.
“You’re resurrecting the monsters?” he asked.
“I’m resurrecting the people,” she corrected, sounding a bit annoyed, “The waves were mutating them. I can fix it.”
“‘Fix it’?” Matt asked, incredulous, “Resurrecting dead people is ‘fixing’ now?”
“They weren’t supposed to die,” replied Jane. She sounded a little taken aback at his resistance. “They just got caught up. They’re innocent bystanders.”
“So we’re resurrecting anyone who’s innocent now?”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said, scowling, “Are you annoyed at me for not killing people? For not letting, hell I don’t know, however many thousands of mothers and fathers and children die because they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Isn’t this exactly what you were arguing, like, four hours ago?”
Matt stared at her, his hands balling into fists between his thighs and the crumbling ledge. “How the‑” he swore, “-can you not see how slippery this slope is?”
“Oh come on,” Jane sighed.
“Being Dawn wasn’t bad enough. Time travel wasn’t bad enough.” Matt was too angry to even say Pokémon. “Now you’re controlling life and death too? You’re the Grim-” he swore again, “‑Reaper?!”
“That’s not fair,” said Jane. She leaned forward, raising her hand as if halfway towards shaking a finger at him, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m making it right. This power killed them, it makes sense, it’s… fair that it brings them back.”
“Oh so you’re deciding what’s fair now?”
“Oh, well screw me for not leaving a city full of orphans!”
“What’s next?” Matt cried, hands clenching on the brick wall, feeling as if he was about to launch to his feet, “Seriously, what’s next? You going to resurrect every victim you find, huh? You going to resurrect that little acid girl’s family? How about James, huh? Nancy, Chino, Selwyn, hell let’s go dig up Mentok and the old Legion, let’s go dig up your Mom!”
The cloud that descended over Jane’s face was darker than any Matt had ever seen. “Be careful,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing, “Be very, very careful.”
“Or what?” Matt replied, throwing up his hands, “You going to put me back to sleep? A little bit of time out in dead land before you resurrect me so that I learn my lesson?”
“For your information,” Jane scowled, “It doesn’t work like that.”
“What doesn’t? Enlighten me, oh angel of mercy.”
“Will you stop?” she said, rubbing her forehead with an exasperated sigh, “I’m trying to tell you. This power… it’s not like that. It’s more…” Jane hesitated, clearly struggling to find the words. “Conscious? Temperamental? It doesn’t… it’s hard to explain, but you can feel… I don’t know. It wants things to be balanced somehow. I can’t just use it lightly. I don’t know, I can’t explain… but the people that are dead here are fine, because it did that. It damaged them, so it’s fine with fixing them, see, but if someone’s been dead for ages…”
“Listen to yourself,” said Matt, appalled, “You’re talking about powers as if they’re sentient. About life and death and resurrecting people like it’s… a jigsaw puzzle.” Matt chewed his lips, resisting the urge to launch into more aggressive criticism, instead forcing himself to pause, to close his eyes and draw in a long, deep breath.
“Jane,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice level, “I love you. And I… I mean I appreciate what you… I… I appreciate being alive. And I know you’re just trying to help. But you are in so, so deep right now it’s gone past the point of being worrying.” He paused, staring up at her, pleading with his eyes. “Let’s compromise, okay? I get what you’re saying about the dead bodies. I agree, that makes sense, this… life, death, whatever power caused this, okay. Use it to fix it. Okay. I concede. But then please, please give it up. I’m begging you, I’m actually begging you, I will get down on my hands and knees and‑” he swore “‑beg you… just get rid of it. No good can come of this. We are… so far from Kansas, we are waist deep in weirdness, two hundred yards on the wrong side of the line.”
Jane’s thin eyebrows furrowed, and she stared at him like the very suggestion was ridiculous. “I’m not giving it up,” she replied, “What if something else like this happens? What if the twins get loose again?”
“The… the guys who were in the centre? I thought you killed them.”
“I did,” Jane shrugged, nonchalant, “But I’m going to resurrect them. The power doesn’t like them not living. And they just sort of got… caught up fighting.” She shrugged. “Honestly I don’t think they really understood what they were doing. How their abilities interact. It’s one ability really, sometimes this happens with twins, it was just unfortunate it was a power like this and-”
“Jane,” Matt interrupted, still aghast, “I don’t care about obscure superhuman biology. I’m telling you, fix the mess they made, then give the power up.”
“Come on,” Jane sighed, her hands going to her hips. The way she said it made it sound like she was having to re‑explain an avocado allergy she’d already told him about. “You know I can’t give this up.”
“Why not?!”
“Why?” snorted Jane, “Look around you! What the hell do you think just happened? Do you remember a team of soldiers setting this crazy, city‑levelling trap to try and kill you? Do you remember being at the bottom of a building collapse? No,” she said, and the dismissal in her tone made it clear she found the idea preposterous, and her decision was final, “I’m keeping it. You didn’t want me time travelling, fine. This is how I’ll protect you.”
Matt was at a loss for words. “You can’t,” he spluttered, “You can’t…”
“What?” Jane snapped, annoyed, “What’s the problem? Whoever sent those men after you is still out there, and until I find them, you’re not safe.”
“So once you’ll find them you’ll let it go?”
“No,” sniffed Jane, wrinkling her nose, “There’ll be other dangers. What does it matter?” She glared at him. “You don’t want to die, and I’m not going to let you. I thought this would be a good thing! You don’t have to be scared.”
“I am scared!” Matt cried, throwing up his hands. Without realising it he rose to his feet, and on the other side of the street he saw people turn and look towards them. “Jane, I’m terrified! You’re not letting me‑”
“What, what am I not letting you do?” Jane shouted, her own hands rising, equally incredulous, “What life am I stopping you from leading, what have I ever done except try to help?”
“You’re not listening!”
“I am listening!” she cried, “You said it was dangerous to travel through time. I did it anyway and I was fine, but who cares about that, Matt always knows better, so I’m listening.” She laced the word thick with derision. “I’ve found another power. I’ve found another way!”
“Good, so you’re going to give up time travel?”
Jane fell abruptly silent, her mouth open. For a few moments she worked her jaw, but no words came out.
“I knew it!” Matt exclaimed, throwing up his hands. He stabbed at her with an accusing finger. “This isn’t about me, it was never about me! This is about power! It’s about control!”
“Oh, as if you-”
“You can’t let go!” he cried, “You’ve got to be in control of everything, everybody’s lives, everything aligning to your little vision and-!”
“That’s not fair!” Jane countered, “You know that’s not fair! You’re so hung up on this… normal bullcrap, you can’t see the bigger picture, you can’t see-”
“You’re playing God!”
“I’m protecting you!”
“YOU’RE NOT GOD!”
“WELL MAYBE I SHOULD BE!” Jane’s roar echoed across the city streets, the sound reverberating off the skyscrapers. Across the road, the onlookers who had been trying to eavesdrop flinched. Matt paid them no heed, his scowl reserved solely for Jane, who met his gaze with equal fury, her eyes grey-blue and burning. “Maybe I’ve had enough of suffering for other people’s choices. Maybe it’s time I set things right.”
“Absurd,” Matt spat, shaking, “Absolutely absurd. I’m going, I can’t do this, I can’t-” He moved to push past her but Jane stepped to the side, blocking his way.
“Where are you going?” she demanded, holding a hand to his chest, “Stop being an idiot, where are you going to go?”
“Away!” Matt shouted, “For a walk! Anywhere! Outside!”
“I’m coming with you!”
“No!” he cried, and though his girlfriend towered over him in every way he nevertheless pushed her aside, “Leave me alone!”
“It’s not safe!”
“What does it matter?” Matt shouted, turning on his heel to face her, throwing his hands up in an incredulous expression as he walked backwards and away, “It’s not like anything can hurt me, it’s not like you won’t just bring me back to life!” He swore hot and furious, muttering dark curses under his breath as he continued to storm away, small pebbles of concrete crushing beneath his feet.
“Matt!”
“No.”
“Oh for God’s-” Jane rolled her eyes so hard it moved her entire head. Matt just kept walking. “I’m sending someone with you!”
“I’m fine!”
“No you’re not! It’s not-!”
“Fine!” Matt shouted, “Fine! Send Celeste! At least she’s capable of changing!”
“Oh screw you!” cried Jane.
“Screw yourself!” He spun back and flipped her both middle fingers, a gesture which in the moment felt incredibly petty, unhelpful and profoundly satisfying. Jane watched him go, the expression on her tattooed face torn between exasperation, anger and shock. Matt paid it no heed, continuing his furious march, storming on towards the deserted city, with nowhere left to go.