"The Hell are you doing here?"

Holden lay still in the bed he was placed in, eyes facing the bright light above him. The surrounding area was a pristine white -clearly meant to serve as a makeshift medical room- with the exception of a few small tables that held various pots filled with small shrubs and trees. One such table sat beside Holden, an assortment of flowers bundled neatly on its surface. Holden had gotten acquainted with it all over the course of several hours while his aching body healed. Between periods of rest, he'd come to expect waking up to the soft buzzing of an overhead lamp. He was not suspecting that upon waking up this time, Jackson would be seated beside his bed, a blank expression plastered across his face.

"I'm making sure you're still alive. You're breathing, aren't you?" Jackson sat with one leg folded over the other, his eyes scanning the pages of some non-descript novel. His voice was dull and uninterested like his presence was an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, something like that. Is there anything you want? And uh... are those-" Holden gestured at the flowers with his hand.

"No. They're not. They're from Natasha. She gave me a piece of her mind when she found out I put you in your place. Wanted to see you, but you were asleep. So she decided to go back to the normal world and find you some flowers, and took Miss Melony with her."

"And where are they now?" Holden sucked his teeth and adjusted his neck, nestling into the mattress. He lowered his right arm over the side of the bed, gently tracing his fingers over Pepper's head. She tenderly licked his palm and yawned before settling down on the floor once more.

"Out again. They're getting second helpings in case one isn't enough. I told them it was a waste, that if you didn't appreciate the first set you weren't worth a second one. Natasha insisted on it though, and went against what I assume to be her better judgment."

"That's nice," Holden mumbled under his breath. "Isn't she some sort of nature creature? Could she not just grow some herself and save the trou-"

"That creature, as you put it, considers lazy gifts to be lacking in meaning. Maybe you should be appreciative, at least more than you were when you two spoke the other day," Jackson barked, the book in his hands finally lowering to his lap as he scowled at Holden.

With a deep sigh, Holden closed his eyes and grazed his forehead with his hand. Taking a moment to compose himself, he responded in a collected, mild manner.

"Then I'll stay up so I can thank her later."

"As you should." The remark was blunt, quickly conveying the bitterness laced within Jackson's words. The tone stung, like verbal lemon drops seeping into a thousand paper cuts. A few seconds of silence passed before the stillness was interrupted by Holden, who had turned his head to face Jackson directly. His lips parted, only to seal shortly after. Some visceral feeling in his gut made itself apparent, giving resistance to his thoughts being expressed. Holden would push through this, however, determined to speak his mind and reject his shame.

"I should apologize. Both to you, and to Natasha for how I spoke to her. Getting emotional and escalating things with you wasn't the right call. Not that I want to lay down and let you walk all over me like some kind of worm. But... I know better than to take things too far."

Jackson didn't reply. His gaze remained fixated on Holden, and a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

"There was something my dad told me some years ago. He told me how it doesn't make you a man to find pleasure in hurting and scaring others. Even if you dislike them, even if they stand in your way. Finding satisfaction in hurting people doesn't make you a man... but it can make you a monster. And I don't think... I don't think the right thing to do is seek trouble where there doesn't need to be any."

Jackson hummed in thought, his tense posture relaxing slightly as he took in what Holden had to say. "So what are you trying to say? That you're becoming some kind of monster? What kind of attitude is that?"

"Nah. My dad also said something else. He said that all people make mistakes, and that everyone is capable of operating like a monster, often by accident. What really separates us from monsters is that we recognize where we failed and correct it. We don't allow our imperfections to define us, you know? Since my life has changed, I've tried to take it all in and remain unshaken. I know I can handle it, but I don't know, maybe it all caught up to me."

With a light cough, Jackson cleared his throat. He contemplated what his answer would be, and when he finally settled upon it, he delivered it with a far more mellow tone than he offered prior.

"Miss Melony said there was more to you than being some brat. It's possible she wasn't wrong about that. Your father sounded like he had a good head on his shoulders. Let me guess, he's been absent for some time now?" There was no sense of malice or sarcasm Holden could detect in Jackson's statement. It was to the point, yes, but it was nothing more than what it presented itself as at face value.

"Did Melony tell you?"

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"No. I wasn't terribly interested in you or your story, to be honest. It's just a common occurrence for hybrids to be on their own from a young age. Their origin doesn't lend itself to creating a stable family unit."

"You can say that again... I assume it's the same for you?" Holden delicately picked one of the flowers from the bundle and fiddled with the petals. They were bright pink, a welcome contrast to a room devoid of soul.

"Since the start. It was just me and my brother, we stuck it out together for some years. Moved from place to place, and tried to make sure we had a bite to eat at night and decent clothes to keep on our backs."

"And... where is he now?"

"Somewhere out there. I'm not entirely sure. But he's a tough guy. Even though he's younger, I never looked down on him. He could take care of himself then. I know he'll make it until-" Jackson paused, his voice abruptly falling off a cliff. He turned his head away, breaking the eye contact between them with seemingly no explanation.

"What happened to him...?"

"He was taken. I should have seen it coming... two hybrid children on their own, without supervision. We were vulnerable targets, we didn't stand a chance. I don't even know who did it, but there was a night he and I got ambushed in a shack we were staying in. Never saw their faces, I was too startled, too weak."

Jackson rose from his seat and walked to the left corner of the room, pacing back and forth before stopping and taking a deep breath. Looking down at the floor, he rubbed the back of his neck and continued. "I hesitated that night. I had a brother to protect, and I couldn't save him. All I could do was scream and... and run while my little brother chose to stay and fight. I never saw their faces, but even while I fled I heard what they were saying. They were all so giddy while they assaulted Myles... all they could think about as they ripped his freedom away was the payday they'd receive from the Editor. All that pain and suffering they caused, just for a pay day."

"That's... messed up. How old were you two?" A touch of somberness infected Holden's inflection, his already soft voice tapering off near the end.

"We were both twelve. He was only a few minutes younger than me but... it doesn't matter. It was still my responsibility. And it's still my responsibility to find and save him." Jackson looked up and faced Holden once more, eyes reverting from thoughtfulness to assertiveness within a second. "We aren't allowed to be weak in this life. Not you, not me, not anyone. So I'm not sorry for the way I've treated you. I'm not sorry for fighting you after how you showed blatant disregard for Natasha and Miss Melony's kindness. I hold no regrets about that because you deserved it."

Holden tensed up while he directed conscious effort into not replying with a snarky or aggravated remark. Despite his initial indignance to what he was told, he remained visibly undisturbed. He figured that for the current moment, this was likely as much progress as he'd make.

"But my behavior towards you when you first arrived may have been... no, not may have been. It was inappropriate."

If Holden had been drinking something, he'd have surely spat it out at that comment. Had he not known better, he'd have sworn he was hallucinating.

"Right, well thank you. I appreciate that." He sat up and stretched his arms, Jackson's admission of fault seemingly energizing him. "As far as the fight goes... at least it wasn't all a waste. I think I figured a few things out."

"Is that so? I suppose that counts for something, what did you discover?" Jackson raised an eyebrow, his inquisitive side emerging in response to Holden's claim.

"I think you know one of the things I learned. So far, I've used my ability to absorb the properties of objects and distribute them through my body. When we fought, I performed a gamble and tried distributing a property I was already in possession of."

"You distributed the property of sight that belonged to your eyes. Effectively, you eliminated your blind spots by granting certain parts of your body the ability to see," Jackson stated, rubbing his chin as the pieces came together in his mind.

"Right. I thought it would be worth the attempt. There were after effects though. I only used my power that way for a brief time, but I felt unbearably motion sick. I'm not used to having that many perspectives, so it did a number on me. It's a good thing I realized that in a non-fatal situation. I didn't sense a lethal intent from you, or even enough malice to warrant me fearing permanent injury. Though, that leads me to the second and third things I learned. Some of the engagements I've had with cryptids ended with me entering a trance-like state, and I seem to be able to heal my wounds as well. This time was different, obviously. My theory is that those things emerge when my life is in genuine danger, not just when I'm in a fight or getting hurt."

"An interesting idea. Until you have confirmation, you should think of that as a likely possibility as opposed to a hard rule. It's not good to commit yourself to unreliable information." Jackson paused, digesting a thought that ran through his mind before continuing further. "If further fighting will help you gain knowledge of your abilities, then I suppose I could offer that for you in my free time."

"Is that a real offer? I can grow stronger and more informed on my own. If this is some sort of pity proposal or whatever-" Holden was promptly cut off, Jackson's interruption coming across as quick and snappy.

"Stop. You know it's not. But yes, it's a real offer. I still think you'll die sooner than later, and you still shouldn't get your hopes up and think anyone will mourn you for long after you're gone. At the very least though, I know you aren't the type to leave my comrades... our comrades... to die. If that's true, then for your sake and theirs, we can spar in the future. The way you approach it is ultimately up to you." Jackson took several long strides toward the door, wrapping his fingers around the doorknob as he awaited Holden's reaction.

"Fine then, I'll consider it. It's probably the least I can do to pull my weight around here."

"Good." The door opened and Jackson stepped one foot out. At the last moment, he turned around and tapped his foot against the floor a few times before continuing with what he wanted to say. "While you were asleep, Melony and I found a camera in your pocket. I gave the gallery a look through, out of curiosity. Myles... liked photography too. Exploring abandoned places and such, those were memories he enjoyed keeping in something tangible."

Jackson exited and closed the door behind him, leaving Holden alone with his thoughts and Pepper (Who now slept deeply on the floor beside the bed). He pondered over the interaction that just played out, and thought over the offer Jackson made to him. Perhaps even more than that, he wondered what exactly it was that Natasha and Melony had gone through up until this point in their lives.

Those, he decided, were questions worth asking when he got the chance.