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She was gone in seconds, bits of ash fluttering in the wind, heavier pieces falling into the water, ripples forming, small splashes.
Before she died.
After she died.
They stayed there for a long time, clutching each other.
Years, then. Years passing by in between heartbeats, years where they grieved and fought and loved each other with everything they had. Good days, bad days, days when Nick felt like he was crawling out of his skin, days when it didn’t hurt as much as it had before.
The tapes. The pills. The power hidden deep within him, waiting, waiting until the day it would rise and rise andrise.
The bridge.
The prom.
Pyro Storm.
Shadow Star.
Smoke and Ice and Miss Conduct and Burke, Simon goddamnBurke,smirking in his limousine, picking up a piece of plastic that had chipped off the light above them, saying, “You remind me of your mother. I see her in you.”
He was right. As much as Nick hated him, he was right. He saw her when he looked at his reflection, saw her when he put on Miss Conduct’s gift the first time, saw her when he opened his eyes, when he closed them. He saw her in their house, in his head, in everything he did.
Twenty-seven days before Nicholas Bell turned thirteen years old, his mother walked into a bank. She did not walk out.
Skip. Jump, the final, the last, the end, and Nick was seventeen, not yet a man, but close. Summer starting, the future brimming with possibility. He knew what he was capable of, now. He knew what he could do, and it wasn’taboutbeing a hero. It wasn’taboutthe accolades, the praise, the gratitude. It was about helping people, protecting them, just like his mother had. He had taken her name not because it was known, but because it washer.He was Guardian becauseshehad been Guardian.
He was at home. Texting with Seth about the future. What they wanted. What lay ahead. What they’d do together, because Nick had already lost too much to ever want that to happen again.
Then Dad came home.
Nick tilted his head back on the couch. “Hey, Pops. How’d it go with Cap? Did you guys figure out what it’d take to get licensed for the—”
Dad said, “Nick. It’s a miracle. It’s amiracle.”
“What is?” Nick asked, twisting around, phone forgotten in his lap. He frowned at the look on Dad’s face. Eyes glazed over, mouth slack. If he didn’t know his father as well as he did, he’d have thought Dad was… high. Like he’d taken something. But that was ridiculous. Dad wouldnever.“What are you—”
Then a woman stepped through the open front door. Short blond hair. Tan skin. Jeans. A loose shirt. Jennifer Bell smiled and said, “Hey, kid.”
He wanted to scream, then, just like he had before. It wasn’t possible. This was not his mother. Jennifer Bell was four years gone, andthis wasn’t her.
The spark in his head flared to life brighter than it ever had before. Not a star.Thestar. The sun, light blasting through him, and he raised his hand toward her, raised his hand to knock her through the goddamndoor,but she was on him, she moved sofast,a blur of movement, her hands on the sides of her head, Dad just standing there, swaying, eyes distant, and Nick cried out for him as he struggled, yelling at Dad to help him, please help me.
But it was too late.
A tsunami crashed into him, obliterating the past, the truth, words whispered in his ears, saying, “I am Jennifer Bell. I am your mother. I’m here. I’ve always been here. Remember me. Love me. Everything is fine.”
When she stepped back, hands trailing along his cheeks before falling away, Nick grinned up at her and said, “Hey, Mom. I didn’t know you were out with Dad.” For some reason, he thought she’d been… well. He didn’t know where. Upstairs, maybe.
She ruffled his hair. “Doing patrols. Gotta keep the streets safe. I can’t wait until you’re able to join me. You and Seth. Team Lighthouse.”
Dad groaned as he came over to the couch, kissing his wife on the cheek. “You’re both going to be the death of me.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Drama queen.”
Mom winked at him. “He’s just jealous that we have powers and he doesn’t.”
That night, she came into his room, sitting on the edge of his bed. He smiled sleepily at her, and she brushed his hair off his brow. He flinched when she did, but she didn’t move her hand. “Hey,” she said. “I was thinking. Why don’t you invite Seth and Gibby and Jazz over tomorrow? I’ll make lunch. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to talk to them without having to punch some jerk in the face for trying to hurt you all.”
“Your hair,” he said, feeling like a bug caught in a web, the spider coming closer and closer. “Why… why did you cut your hair?”
Her hand stilled on his forehead. “Don’t you worry about that, kid. It doesn’t matter. There are bigger things to focus on.”
He closed his eyes, and the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep was when she whispered, “Everything is fine.”
He believed her.
