#overdid it

courtney walks beside you with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, bobbing her head to the quiet rhythm of whatever she’s humming under her breath. her face slightly catches the glow of the streetlights with each step.

she glances at you from the corner of her eye, a smile nudges at the edge of her mouth. not the kind she gives everyone. this one is softer, just for you.

you tell yourself you’re imagining the warmth in your chest when she looks at you that way. you tell yourself it’s nothing. you tell yourself a lot of things you don’t really believe.

“tonight wasn’t awful,” she breaks the silence, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. 

“it was actually quite quiet, honestly? kinda disappointed.”

“you say that now,” you reply, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “but if anything had exploded in our faces, you’d be the first one to moan about it.”

she huffs, feigning offense. “oh you’d just love to hear me moan,” she laughs, grinning at you, that same smile is the reason you look away for just a second, pretending to scan the empty street.

because if you look at her too long, she’ll see it, the softness, the nervousness, the thing you haven’t let yourself name.

you hear her cough once. just once, but it kinda made you feel uneasy.

her asthma has been part of her life longer than you have. it doesn’t define her, it just… complicates things. you’ve seen her handle it well, inhaler flick, inhale, hold, breathe, then she moves on like nothing ever happened.

you’ve learned the difference between a casual cough and the kind that means you need to step closer.

even though you felt off, you force your shoulders to relax anyway.

“you alright?” you ask.

she waves you off. “dry throat. i’m fine.”

you hum, unconvinced, but you let it go or pretend to. same thing.

the streets are quiet as you continue walking. the night air is cool, brushing against your cheeks, sdn’s neon sign glows faintly in the far distance, a reminder that you’re nearly done, when you make out the unmistakable smell of chemicals.

the masked villain lands hard on the pavement, cracking the concrete, swings an arm through the air, sending a wave of gas rolling toward you.

aerokinesis.

“visi, get back!” you shout.

you run toward them before she can argue.

the villain swung out their arm and another burst of gas shot toward your face, you snapped up a barrier just in time, the cloud rolling over it.

you could’ve taken him down fast if you would have just stayed focused, but how could you? after hearing an aggressive cough, courtney’s.

your head whipped back around towards her.

she was already staggering back from the mist, hand clutching her inhaler, shoulders jolting with every cough. the sound punched through your ribs, a spreading ache rising in your chest, it only took a split second for you to drop your guard.

something slammed into your side.

the criminal swept your legs out from under you with a burst of pressure you didn’t even see coming. you hit the pavement hard, air punching out of your lungs, the world tilting for a second. you tried to roll, but they were already lunging again, hand outstretched with another wave of gas.

you forced your telekinesis outward in a panicked burst. the invisible shove sent the guy stumbling back, just enough for you to scramble to your feet. your ribs screamed, your vision slightly blurred, but courtney's coughing sounded worse, ragged, almost desperate, so you pushed through it.

this time, you didn’t hesitate.

you threw your hand forward, fingers curling, your powers obeyed. the villain lifted off the ground and slammed into a bus stop pole with enough force to knock them out before they could slide down, you pinned them there with your power, yanking their wrists behind their back and shoving them to the ground, binding them with a cable from your utility strap.

done.

you didn’t even stay long enough to check if the knot held. it would. you made sure of it.

courtney mattered more.

you sprinted to her.

she was slouched against the brick wall of a shop, coughing so violently her whole body shook. she fumbled her inhaler with shaking fingers, pressed it, tried again, nothing came out. not even a hiss. her chest heaved, panic flickering in her eyes between coughs.

“shit- vis.” you dropped to your knees beside her.

she gave a small, breathless groan, blinking hard. “it… ran out, i- i used it too much-”

“i know,” you whispered, more to calm yourself than her. you slipped it gently but urgently from her hand. “watch him. don’t move. i’ll get you a new one.”

she nodded, barely, one arm curling around her ribs as she coughed into her sleeve.

you didn’t waste another second.

you bolted.

your boots hammered against the pavement as you tore down the street, lungs burning, your heart thrumming in your chest. the nearest pharmacy was two blocks away, and you didn’t stop to breathe, didn’t stop to think.

just two blocks.

you keep repeating to yourself. 

the criminal is tied down. courtney is alive. you just need to get her a new inhaler. this is manageable, no reason to panic.

but you are.

you’re panicking so hard it feels like someone has a fist wrapped around your lungs and they keep squeezing, tighter and tighter with every second she’s out of your sight.

her cough keeps echoing in your mind, even though you’re half a street away now. you can still hear the wet rasp, the sharp inhale that didn’t fill her lungs, the fear she tried to hide from you.

you shove harder into your sprint.

by the time you skid around the corner to the pharmacy entrance, you don’t bother with the door handle, you shove it open with your power and stumbled inside.

the pharmacist at the counter jumps. “oh-! uh- you’re a hero, right? what do you need-”

“inhaler refill,” you gasp. “she’s- she’s having a severe attack- i need her meds, now.”

the pharmacist’s expression shifts instantly, from startled to serious. “name of the prescription?”

you say it. your voice cracks as you do.

the pharmacist types fast, nods once, disappears into the back.

you pace, hands dragging down your face.

you can’t stand still. every second feels like a minute and every time you blink, you see courtney slumped against that wall, her lips a shade too pale.

you know she’s survived worse. you know this is her life, something she handles, something she controls.

but today she doesn’t have control. that terrifies you in a way you can’t put words to.

your hands shake. not from adrenaline, from something deeper, something you’ve never let yourself acknowledge fully. 

you care. too much, definitely more than you should.

more than a teammate. more than a friend and watching her struggle for air felt like someone was peeling your ribs open from the inside.

“here!” the pharmacist calls, rushing back with a small paper bag. “new canister. go!”

you snatch it from their hands. “thank you!” throwing down some money on the counter then you’re out the door before they finish their sentence.

you sprint again, harder, faster if that was even possible, your legs already screaming from the first run but you ignore it. 

when you round the last corner, your heart slams against your throat.

she's still there. still slouched against the wall, but she’s hunched lower than before. her elbows are braced on her knees, one hand pressed to her chest as she coughs in short, painful bursts. her inhaler sits useless beside her.

she looks up at the sound of your footsteps. her eyes are glassy, lashes clumped together from tears she didn’t mean to shed.

you practically fall to your knees in front of her.

“i’m here, i’m here- court, hey,” she tries to speak but the words dissolve into another cough.

“it’s okay, i’ve got it,” you whisper, tearing the inhaler from the packaging with frantic hands.

“you’re okay. just breathe for me.”

you shake the canister hard, lifting it to her lips, her fingers overlap yours, trembling, you press the canister down.

she inhales, shallow, shaky, then holds.

one beat.

two.

three.

the relief doesn’t come instantly. it never does. but her shoulders loosen just enough that you can feel your own lungs start working again.

she exhales slowly.

not perfectly or comfortably, but better. she takes another puff, then another.

and with each breath, your panic falls away in pieces until your chest no longer feels like it's collapsing on itself.

you brush her hair away from her forehead with a gentle hand, “you scared the shit out of me.”

she lets out a weak laugh, “i scared me too.”

“you shouldn’t have been that close to the gas,” you speak softly. “you know better.”

her eyes meet yours. even tired, lined with tears, even shaken, there’s something bright in them. something that makes your stomach churn.

“i didn’t see it coming,” she whispers. “i was looking at you.”

your breath catches.

she realises what she said just a second too late, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks. she looks away, swallowing hard.

“i mean… i was just making sure you didn’t get hit. you jumped in so fast. i didn’t…” her voice drifts off. “doesn’t matter.”

it does.

it matters way too much.

you gently guide the inhaler back into her hand. “can you breathe okay now?”

she nods. “yeah. i’m… getting there.”

her breathing is steadier but nowhere near normal. by the time you reach the pinned villain again. they’re still bound exactly where you left them. wriggling uselessly against the cable, gas power sputtering in weak bursts now that their adrenaline’s shot.

you stop a few feet away, keeping courtney tucked protectively against your side. you can feel every uneven breath she takes, each one pushes a little worry deeper into your ribs.

“you good to stand here?” you murmur softly, tipping your head toward her.

she straightens as if she’s pretending she wasn’t leaning on you at all, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine.”

her voice is hoarse, she’s absolutely not fine, but you don’t call her on it.

you crouch down beside the villain, grab your communicator, and send out a report. backup is already on its way, you hear the distant sirens of the sdn patrol units turning onto the street.

she ends up resting her shoulder against a wall, inhaler still clutched in her hand.

when the heroes arrive, you give a quick rundown of the incident, gesturing to the lingering haze staining the air. the officers snap cuffs over the villain’s wrists and haul them upright, dragging them toward the transport van.

you barely watch.

courtney is all you can focus on. her hunched posture, her exhales still shaky.

the moment the officers drive off, she pushes off the wall. “okay. we should go. hq’s close, and i’ve got to-”

“you’re seeing the medic.”

she stops mid step.

you don’t use a stern tone with her often. rarely, actually. but right now it comes out before you can soften it, all the fear and adrenaline shoving it forward.

courtney huffs. “i don’t need that. i’m fine. i just… overdid it.”

“you had a severe asthma attack,” you voice, stepping in front of her when she tries to walk past you. “your breathing still isn’t steady.”

“it will be,” she insists. “i’ve handled it before.”

“it’s not been this bad on patrol before.”

she looks away, jaw clenching. for someone who can turn invisible, courtney’s tells are anything but subtle. the twitch in her neck, the curl of her fingers, the way she bites the inside of her cheek.

this isn’t just stubborn pride, this is fear.

she hates being seen vulnerable. hates being reminded her lungs don’t always obey her. hates being treated like she’s fragile.

you step closer, lowering your voice, “court… please.”

her eyes flick to yours. an involuntary movement. in that tiny moment, she sees everything on your face that you forgot to hide. the worry, the fear that hasn’t left since she started coughing, the softness you tried not to feel for her.

she swallows hard.

“…you’re really scared,” she points out, you nod.

she watches your expression, something in her shoulders loosens. she lets out another shaky exhale that wheezes slightly at the end.

“…okay,” she whispers. “i’ll go.”

relief crashes over you, “thank you,” you grin.

she avoids your gaze, ears slightly pink. “only because you’re about two breaths from collapsing, and i’m not scraping you off the floor.”

she tries for sarcasm but she’s tired, too tired and it comes out softer than she intended.

you shift your hand, sliding your arm under hers so you can support her as you both start walking toward sdn again. she hesitates for a second, then leans into you with a tiny sigh.

the streets are quiet, except for the rolling hum of traffic blocks away. you adjust your hold when she stumbles slightly on a crack in the pavement.

“you okay?” 

her reply is short, “yeah,” but she squeezes your arm just a little.

eventually, the front doors slide open with a hiss. warm air spills out, along with the faint smell of disinfectant and coffee, from the front desk. the receptionist looks up, eyes widening.

“oh- invisigal, are you alright?”

courtney stiffens at the attention, you answer for her.

“she needs medical,” you say. “severe asthma exacerbation from a gas powered villain.”

the receptionist is already tapping into her computer. “med bay is open, room two. i’ll alert the staff.”

courtney shifts uncomfortably at all the fuss, but you gently guide her toward the hallway before she can argue again.

“you don’t have to stay with me,” she murmurs once when you set her down onto the bed.

“not leaving you,” you reply without thought. she glances at you, “you sure?” she asks, “you don’t have to babysit me, i'll… be fine.”

you meet her eyes, “i’m staying whether you like it or not.” she chuckles at how stubborn you are.

“okay.”

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