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Time might as well have stopped.

The hours stretched on forever, silent spans separated only by the slow, rhythmic beep, beep, beep of a heart monitor. Destiny City General should have been a ghost town at that hour, but since the devastating event that the news ambiguously referred to as 'The Epidemic', it had been anything but. Every bed now held a body, whether it be one of the dozens of previous starseed victims not yet pulled off of life support or the more recent victims of the event that had left Destiny City in chaos. The lobby floors were covered in a carpet of sleeping families and the rushed and frantic footsteps of overworked medical staff, working around the clock to find a cure for an illness beyond their comprehension.

Of all the waking bodies, perhaps only two had even the slightest inkling of the true nature of the epidemic. Those two sat curled together on the small chair in the room shared by Ray Gordon and Gunn Killingworth, two men fortunate to have arrived early enough for an actual bed and not a hallway gurney to cradle their sleeping bodies. Aree Cadence was sitting with her legs slung over one arm of the chair, the small of her back pressed against the other. In the small space beside her, Ursula Killingworth was curled up. The redhead rested her cheek against her best friend's shoulder, curling her fingers into the gray hoodie and sobbing into the thin fabric; it had been hours since Aree had seen Ursula's eyes not rimmed with red and bloodshot with worry.

Aree was stoic, silent, her expression as flat as they both feared the lifeline of man they kept company might soon be. One hand cradled the back of Ursula's head, the black-nailed fingers of her newer arm gently combing through the long red hair. It was a mess of tangles, through which Aree's fingers worked to keep her mind occupied. Ursula had refused to leave for any reason. She refused to sleep, to eat, and Aree had to practically beg her to do either. It took constant reminders that it was not only her health at stake to get Ursula to pick at her plate of macaroni, most of which now sat congealing upon the nightstand.

When the call had come, for them as well as over forty other families, they had been together. Laughing, talking, with Ursula helping Aree decorate her apartment. Forcing would have been a more appropriate word, as she had spent the day dragging the disgruntled teenager through Pier One, suffering the troublesome arm and it's desire to knock over practically everything in reach. She had been placing a stained glass candle holder on top of Aree's kitchen counter, and the sound it made as it struck the linoleum had drawn Aree from the bedroom. Ursula's hands were shaking, her cellphone lying in pieces among the field of broken glass. Never had she been so pale, so breathless. Aree had snatched Ursula's keys from the counter, and together they had descended into the chaos of the hospital. It had taken hours to get through the press that circled the front door, and it felt like forever before their names were called and they were taken back to see him. More than once Aree had to grip Ursula's hand and whisper warnings to keep Beryl from bursting through and slaughtering the entire room in order to see her General-King. Her most loyal servant. More than once, Ursula had to do the same for her.

“He can't die,” Ursula whispered, her voice muffled as she spoke into Aree's shoulder, “He can't die.”

Aree nodded, silent, and slipped from the chair. She circled the bed, stood on the opposite side, and quietly adjusted the blankets that had slipped down. Even the small bit of bare chest that showed below the pit of his throat seemed indecent somehow. Ursula leaned forward to take one of his hands and ran her fingers gently over the IV needle secured in his vein. She pressed her cheek to the back of his fingers, and it seemed to comfort her. Only a moment passed before she was crying again. Gunn Killingworth's wife passed the hours by smoothing his hair, pushing it back from his face. She held his hands and ran her fingertips across the blue and white pattern of his hospital gown. Sometimes, Aree would notice her handpause just above his heart, and a small wave of relief would wash over Ursula's face. As though the monitor might lie, she needed constant affirmation that his heart was still beating.

Aree, however, would not touch his dark, clammy skin. She adjusted his blankets and rang the nurse when his IV fluids ran low. She braided the fringe on the throw blanket Ursula had brought for him and carefully slipped on the hospital slippers when she thought his feet might be getting cold beneath the thin blanket. She used a damp towel to wet his lips when they looked dry, but never did she make skin-to-skin contact. It seemed wrong, as though touching him was some kind of violation of the respect she had for him. Still, she showed her feelings with her almost businesslike manner of caring for him. The General-King would not have wanted to appear so sick, so weak, and so Aree did what she could. What very, very little she could.

Aree closed her eyes and pushed back that overwhelming wave of sadness that she knew would only end with tears. How ashamed would he be of her if she were to cry? If she were to show weakness when Ursula – his wife, her Queen – needed her to be strong? She swallowed her sadness, bit back the sob that threatened to break her stoic facade, and closed her eyes. It was the least that she owed him.

He had, after all, saved her.

With one quiet sigh to fill the silence, Aree remembered the way Destiny City looked from fifteen stories up.



Aree had still been Aree back then, a scared teenager rather than a hollow husk to house the Negaverse agent she had become. She had been broken, driven to that ledge by a life of unending disappointment, her loathing for the world she had been born into no longer bearable. Silently, she had ascended the stairwell, fifteen flights that had her breathing hard by the time she reached the roof access door and stepped out into the cold winter night. It had been snowing lightly, and Aree remembered the irony of that being the first time she had ever found Destiny City to be beautiful.

And beautiful it most certainly was. A dust of snow covered the rooftop and the world below it, muffling the noise of passing cars and wailing sirens. It was, she felt, a fitting way to end her life. A faceless spread of blood and flesh beneath the feet of Destiny City's residents, dying just as she had always lived.

The city was spread out below her like a rats maze, squares of orange and white lights through which cars raced. People trailed along the sidewalks, line after line of small, hooded figures. Her fingers gripped the icy railing, her breath misting in the air as she lifted one leg over, then the other. For what seemed like forever, she had just sat there, perched upon the railing like some kind of gargoyle, looking down on Destiny City with all of her disapproval.

“If you're going to do it, just ******** do it,” his voice said, having come out of nowhere. Aree had nearly fallen right then and there, taken by surprise. Her grip on the rail tightened, and her head swiveled back to find the source of the deep, gruff words. She remembered being terrified from the moment she had seen him, it was a feeling that had never fully left her. An imposing figure in military attire, her face reflected in the polished lenses of his glasses. He took one long drag from his cigarette, the red glow illuminating his features before he cast the butt aside. With an arrogant smile, he blew the smoke out through his nose and fixed his gaze on her. “Well?”

“Do wha-” she began, backpedaling her plan. If he found out, if he reported her, she knew that hospital protocol was to recommend the suicide threats enter rehabilitation. Six months of therapy to cure some illness that she surely must have if she wanted to kill herself. How then, would she be able to explain that the []i]world was her illness? That nearly every person in it was part of the infection that she could feel growing inside of her. Given the choice to live with such a sickness or die before it consumed her... well, she had clearly made her decision. She could not be fixed.

“I'm going to give you a choice,” he interrupted, speaking as though he didn't have time to deal with the silly antics of a sixteen year old girl, “And when I give you this choice, you can either accept it or you can jump. Do you understand?”

She didn't. Her face was as white with fear as her knuckles were with her grip on the railing. Aree stood, her back to the open air, as he took slow, measured steps forward. Aree stepped one foot back over the railing, suddenly afraid to fall. She might have decided to die, but she did not want to be murdered. Her certainty had drained from her as quickly as the blood had drained from her face, and Aree was frozen in place with no choice but to watch as he approached. “Who are y-”

“You're going to die either way, so you might as well say yes,” he said, and stopped only a foot away. She was almost the same height as him, yet somehow he still seemed to tower above her. His features were not particularly old. The expression lines on his face had not yet been carved too deeply, but his gaze was set in a way that made her think he must have seen more than she ever could have imagined. His eyes were a cold gray that matched her own, and he hand them fixated on her in a way that made her stomach knot. He reached forward and Aree, unable to lean back lest she topple over the edge, swallowed hard as he rested his palm above her heart.

She was certain he was going to push her, and suddenly Aree didn't want to die.

“Say yes,” he said, and it was as though he had stirred something within her. Aree felt his hand slip through her chest, a violation that made her skin crawl. Her breath caught in her chest as his fingers wrapped around her starseed, and she could feel every muscle, every cell just waiting to die. He was silent and still, she was shaking and wide-eyed. It was a pivotal moment, and Aree knew now that had she not acquiesced, he would have ripped the thing from her chest and she would have been just one more on the long list of Destiny City murder victims.

“Say yes,” he repeated.

And so she did.

***

Aree's hands were curled tightly around the bedrail, her eyes fixed on matching ones that she could not see beneath his closed lids.

“Ursula,” she said suddenly, lifting that cold gaze to the woman who was now gently stroking his forehead. Ursula sat with her head resting upon him.

“Yeah,” the redhead replied without looking up.

“We have to kill them.”

It was enough to catch Ursula's attention. She glanced up at her friend, but did not pick her cheek up off of his shoulder. “Kill who?”

Aree returned her eyes to the face of the man she had never cared to know as Gunn Killingworth, but only as the General-King she could not imagine losing. For the first time, she extended a hand, and her fingertips just barely brushed one temple. It hovered there for a moment, her expression frozen in a pained frown.

Her voice cracked as she spoke.

“...All of them.”

“Stop kidding yourself,” Aree all but hissed, speaking through clenched teeth. Her voice was low and her words clipped, a rare display of the anger and frustration that always boiled beneath the seemingly calm surface. Her hands were tightly balled fists at her side, the unnatural arm digging it's nails into the palm.

“I'm not kidding my-”

“You are!” Aree was practically shouting now, throwing both of her hands up in frustration. “You think somebody is going to come fix this? You think some knight in shining armor is going to swoop in to save the fantasy world you live in, Ursula? Wake the <********> up and realize that your knight? Your prince? The one who has always made everything alright?” Aree flung a hand towards the General-King's sleeping form, “Is in that bed, and he could very well die because you're too busy wallow in self pity to do anything. Queen Beryl would not just sit there and cry like a little girl, she would-”

“She would what?” Ursula interrupted, her brows drawn down over narrowed eyes, “How do you know what she would do, Aree? Are you the one she claimed? Are you the one who will give up your life for her?”

“Oh, shut up,” the teenager snapped back, “This isn't about you Ursula, and it's damn sure not about me. This isn't about us, it's about him. It's about an entire team dying. It's about everything we've fought for going to s**t and everything we've done being for nothing! This is about the Negaverse.”

Ursula pushed herself up from the bed. While she was by no means a short woman, she would have needed heels to meet Aree's gaze. Nevertheless, she carried herself like the queen she hosted. Shoulders back, chin up, Ursula met Aree's cold gaze and jabbed one manicured finger towards her, “To HELL with the Negaverse!” She finally screamed, “Don't you tell me what this is about. I'm his wife, I know perfectly well what it's about, Aree Cadence, and I won't have you telling me-!”

Ursula stopped suddenly as her face snapped sharply sideways, silenced by a hard backhand. It was Tanzanite's hand that was suspended in the air, her face a shade of red that did not complement her purple-clad figure. From the mutated joint of her shoulders, the dark scales seemed to crawl along her skin, extending their territory as far as her clavicle bone. The veins along her neck and face bulged, black-blooded veins crawling up along her throat and jaw. Even her eyes turned a shade darker. The monstrous arm reached out, acting of its own accord, and snatched Ursula by the arm.

“Let me show you,” she said in a voice slightly deeper than her own, and together they teleported.

Ursula hit the floor with a thud, shoved forward by the gift the Queen she hosted had granted the young Captain. She was a pile of red hair and two-day-old clothes at the base of the crystal coffin that had once housed Nova's body. Nearby was one nearly identical, it's purple crystal still tinged red with blood. It was the coffin that had housed Tanzanite as she'd hung on the verge of death.

“Or did you forget what they did to her, Ursula?” Tanzanite was practically shaking now, the darkness creeping beneath the skin at her temples.

“I won't sit here. I won't cry and watch him die and everything we've fought for go with him. I won't have given up everything for nothing!”