#tracklight

Clarice and Ali had left that morning on a supply run tothe local town. There was a church there that helped their group by giving themfood and medical supplies, and the two of them had volunteered for the run.They had taken off with a couple backpacks between them and promises to callaround twelve that afternoon.

They hadn’t.

“They’re only fifteen minutes late,” John countered, “We’resupposed to wait thirty before we go after them. We all agreed on that.”

James’ wings flared out, forcing John to take a step backif he didn’t want to be whacked by russet-and-black feathers. “I’mun-agreeing.”

“That’s—” John shook his head, deciding not to correcthis brother seeing how it was probably intentional, knowing James. “Just givethem a little longer, okay?”

James looked like he was about to turn around and launchhimself off the porch, maybe tackling John in the process. Instead, he steppedout of John’s reach and shoved his hands back through his hair, closing hiseyes. He hated not acting even more than John, and his level of patience wouldn’thold for long.

Finally, he jerked a nod and stomped back over to acorner of the porch where he climbed back onto the railing. He sat down on thecorner, his wings coming up the wrap around his own shoulders as he scanned thesky for any sign of Ali and Clarice.

John sighed. He understood how James was feeling, but healso knew how Clarice and Ali would feel if they came after them too early. Thetime limit was there to keep people safe, even if he didn’t like it now thatClarice was the one out there…

He ran his hand over his face and walked over to the railing.Grabbing the worn wood, he looked up as well. It was a grey afternoon, the threatof rain hanging over them. Out in the valley, it was raining already. It waspossible they had gotten caught in the storm and had to take shelter.

Ten more minutes past by at a crawl. James began to dighis fingers into the wood, almost making it crack under the pressure of hisgrip. Deep breaths kept John steady. He couldn’t lose his head. 

He was about to suggest leaving when he heard somethingdown below, in the forest. A flash of grey, then a bit of blue. A tired laughbubbled out from the fiery leaves, one that he recognized. In a moment, hestepped up on the bench then the railing and then dropped down to the ground,his enormous wings slowing his fall. He was almost at the edge of the forestwhen Clarice stepped out from the trees, looking muddy and exhausted butunharmed. Ali appeared behind her, blond and pink hair escaping from the beanieshe was wearing, smudges of dirt on her face.

“Hey, handsome,” Clarice said, a half-smile on her face, “Wehad a bit of a detour.”

“No, really,” John said, reaching for her. They were bothforced to duck, however, when James came soaring over them, landing directly infront of Ali. He practically barreled into the blonde, wrapping his arms aroundher and enveloping her in his wings. It was impossible to see her, hidden byJames’ wings, his chin resting on top of her head.

“We weren’t that late, were we?” Clarice asked, glancingat John.

“Well, someone wanted to track you down the moment youdidn’t call,” John said. He finally caught Clarice by the arm, his hand slidingdown to catch hers. He drew her to him and rested his hands on her waist.

“And you want me to believe that someone wasn’t you?”Clarice smirked.

John brought his wings up, surrounding her and closingout the rest of the world. He grinned back at her. “Maybe. But I’m not the onewho voiced it. So technically, no, it wasn’t me.” He drew her closer and tightenedthe circle of his wings, covering her striking grey, black, and white wings withhis own golden and cream pair.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Clarice teased. She reached out and brushedher hand along his cheek. “I’m sorry we freaked you out. There was a drone, andthis one was weaponized. Fun, right? We thought it’d be safer to hike back andthen we forgot to call.”

John frowned and narrowed his eyes as he looked her overfor injuries again. “Did you—”

She shook her head and touched his chin, making him raisehis head. “I didn’t get shot and neither did Ali. But it’s something we’regoing to need to be aware of, in the future.”

Yet another thing to worry about. He’d add it to the list. Leaning down, hebrushed a kiss against her temple. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Clarice smiled. “I’ve got something that will make youeven happier.” He dropped his wings as she unlocked the backpack from her backand lowered it to the ground. She fished around in it for a minute and then broughtout a package that made John laugh.

“Only you,” he said, reaching out to take the coveted bagof Doritos from her. His favorite, Cool Ranch. “Yeah, this is way better than you not getting shot.”

“See, I told you.”

James struggled to not close his hand around the intake valve and crush it. “Don’t lecture me, okay? I’m not in the mood for you to go all wise older brother on me right now.” He grabbed a wrench and pretended to focus on the motorcycle when all he could really think about was how much he wanted John to leave. If he was telekinetic, he would’ve lifted John and floated him right out the door.

“Ali thinks it’s her fault you’re doing this.”

That made James jerk his head up, eyes widening. “Go tell her it’s not.”

“I’ve tried,” John said, frowning at him, “So have Clarice and Marcos, but she needs to hear it from you.”

That familiar guilt fretted at James gut, gnawing at his stomach at the thought of talking to Ali. “I’ll...text her.”

“She’s literally fifty feet away, and you can’t just go talk to her?” John said, incredulous. He stood up and scrubbed at his face with one hand before walking toward James. “Come on,” he said as he crouched down next to James, “You have to stop punishing yourself. It was an accident, and you’re starting to punish her, too.”

Yeah, it had been an accident, but it was an accident with serious consequences. And James wasn’t going to forget the brief disappointed shock that had been in John’s eyes that day any time soon, though that paled in comparison to the pain in Ali’s…. James scowled as he looked at John. “If you put an understanding hand on my shoulder, we’re going to have a problem.”

John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because there’s no way I’d understand where you’re coming from, right?”

James stood up and stormed over to the tool cabinet. He grabbed a wrench, examined it, and then tossed it back into the pile before picking up another one. No, John didn’t understand because John had never physically hurt Clarice. So it was different. He didn’t get it. “Are we done yet?”

John got up and crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Well, I am.” James headed for the door, intending to leave, to get out of here, because if John was going to invade his space, James wasn’t going to put up with it. He was seventeen now, he wasn’t a kid, he didn’t need a lecture. And he couldn’t deal with John’s sympathy, either.

“Hey, no,” John came after him, and James sped up, but having to stop to open the door gave John the chance he needed to catch up. John grabbed his arm and turned him around. “James, you need to stop.”

James glared at his older brother, his muscles tensing. “Get. Off.”

John sighed and let go. “No one is mad at you except yourself. You have to move past this—”

James yanked the door and slammed it against John’s words, driving it into the frame so hard that it crumpled at the top. Shit. Shit. Frustrated, he shouted wordlessly at the air and then took off toward the woods at a flat run, determined to get away from John and his infuriating patience. He didn’t deserve understanding or sympathy or patience, and he much rather would’ve preferred being yelled at.

He ran for an hour, taking barely-there deer paths and racing along a creek and then backtracking his way to HQ. No matter how much he ran, he couldn’t avoid the guilt that kept eating at him. He slowed to a walk as the sounds of HQ trickled into the forest, clashing with the quiet sounds of wildlife and the breeze against the dead winter leaves. He didn’t feel like going back just yet, so he sat down against a tree, pulled his legs to his chest, and hoped John didn’t come after him.

Instead, it was Clarice. He heard her a long time before he saw her, her usual Converses noisy against the forest floor. She walked toward him, paused, and then tossed a plastic grocery bag at him. The smell of turkey and mustard drifted up from it before he even opened it, and there was a bag of chips and a water bottle in there too.

“You skipped lunch. And breakfast.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, tearing into the bag of chips.

“Don’t mention it,” Clarice said. She sat down cross-legged across from him, her hands dangling in her lap.

James cast a wary glance at her as he ate. She was going to lecture him, too, but Clarice was sometimes less direct about it than John. She sometimes launched into an inspirational talking-to, but sometimes it was a story. He wondered what it was going to be this time.

But she didn’t say anything. She took a sip from her own water bottle and then flopped backward onto the forest floor, looking up at the bare limbs of the tree James was leaning against.

The silence stretched on, and James guessed she was trying to make him talk. Let him get all uncomfortable with how quiet it was, forcing him to say something, defend himself. She was going to be disappointed. He frowned at her as she put her arms behind her head, crossing her legs at the ankle, still looking up at the sky. Hesitantly, he picked up the sandwich and started in on that too.

When he was finishing off the water bottle, Clarice rolled over and got to her feet. She pulled a leaf out of her hair. “Here, give me all that,” she said, gesturing to the trash.

James stared at her then gathered up everything and tucking it into the grocery bag. “I can take it back.”

“I’ve got it,” she said. She nabbed the bag and looped it around her wrist. “Don’t stay out here too long, okay?”

James nodded. “Yeah. I won’t.”

Clarice gave him a half-smile. “I mean it. And move out of the garage and back into the bank while you’re at it. You’re freaking your brother out, which means he’s fussing and driving me crazy.”

And there it was. James shrugged, not committing to anything. He didn’t mind staying out in the garage, it was quiet out there and he could be by himself. He could think in the garage.

Clarice leaned over and gently flicked him on the forehead. “I think you’ve beaten yourself up enough. Just my opinion though. Then again, I know a lot about being yourself up, so it's a well-informed opinion.”

James watched her walk away, the plastic bag swinging from her wrist. He shoved his hands through his hair and stretched his legs out, pushing through half-rotted leaves and twigs. They didn’t get it. None of them did, they didn’t have to live with that sound in their ears.

After another hour or so, he headed back to HQ, making his way toward the garage. He stopped when he caught a familiar scent on the wind, guitar wood and jasmine, and heard the sound of Ali breathing, but before he could turn away, she came around the corner of the building.

“Don’t. Just don’t.” She said, putting her hands up. “Don’t go anywhere.”

James looked at the ground, grinding one foot into the dirt, avoiding looking at her face or meeting her eyes.

“James, please.”

He glanced up and immediately wished he hadn’t. The sight of the black and purple bruises ringing Ali’s right eye made him feel sick all over again. He took a step back, wanting to escape, but she darted toward him, surprising him into staying still.

“Don’t,” she said again, voice laced with desperation, “I gave you your space, I thought it’d help, but I can’t—” She made a frustrated noise and shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket. “I can’t just stay away any more and let you wallow in guilt like this. I told you, I’m not mad, but I’m going to be if you keep this up.”

James gritted his teeth. “Leave me alone, Ali.” He started to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm, wrapping both hands around his bicep as he pulled away. He froze.

“Please,” she said, “I hate this.” She lowered her head, her blond and pink hair drifting into her face, a temptation for him to brush it back behind her ear. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Ali, I broke your nose,” he said quietly, pain in each word, “I gave you a black eye.”

“And you never meant to, you would never do that on purpose,” she rushed to say, “Damn it, James, it was an accident. We were sparring, remember? You got startled, we both did, and I moved the wrong way, I practically rammed my face into your fist—”

“But you don’t have enhanced reflexes,” he said, “I do. I should’ve—” This time he did pull his arm away, and he turned from her, the memory flashing through his mind like it had for the past three days.

It shouldn’t have happened. He and Ali had been sparring in the space in front of HQ, both of them totally in sync, careful, in-the-moment like they usually were. As always, the goal was to not hit each other but come as close as possible. He could remember the way Ali had been grinning, the exercise making both of them near-giddy.

Then one of the kids that had been watching their match had decided to jump into the action and flew at them, a small flying torpedo. James saw the kid first and moved to catch her but Ali had stepped forward, and it had happened so fast. But the way his knuckles grazed her cheek, the crunch as his fist connected with her nose. He had pulled back as quick as he could, which was the only reason why it was a hairline fracture instead of a massive break. Still…

Ali had fallen to the ground while he caught the kid, and an instant later he was beside her, his hands shaking, nausea boiling in his stomach as his heart crawled into his throat. They had hurt each other before while they were sparring, but not—

Blood spilled down Ali’s face as she sat up, tears mixing in as she started crying. The kids on the steps started screaming, and that’s when James had scooped up Ali and carried her inside, yelling for John as loud as the kids were screaming.

“Should’ve what?” she asked, stepping toward him, “Been psychic? I’ve burned you before. With a laser.”

“Not that badly,” he said, frowning at her. “Ali, I love you and I hurt you. I think it’s pretty damn normal to feel like shit about that.”

“I get it,” she said, “But please, James, I don’t blame you. You would never...it…” She took a deep breath and he saw tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand knowing you’re torturing yourself about this. It was an accident.”

It was everything he had been afraid of when it came to his powers. He was always worried about hurting people, but hurting someone he loved? Hurting Ali? Even if it was an accident, he couldn’t afford accidents like that.

“Don’t cry, okay?” he said, “Come on, Ali…”

She darted toward him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. He hesitated and then hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. It felt so good to hold her again, to breathe in her comforting scent. “Could you forget about the ‘leave me alone part and focus on the ‘I love you’ instead?” she asked softly, “Because that’s what I’m focusing on. I love you too, James.”

“It’s not that easy,” he said, “I can’t forget it.”

“You…” She sighed and nuzzled against him. “Let’s try to move on with our lives? Can you start by moving back into your room?” She looked up at him, her fingers pressing into his back. “You smell like oil and gasoline.”

The first smile he had cracked in days made its way onto his face. “And that’s bad?”

“I’m just saying, the garage isn’t your bedroom.”

He made a noncommittal noise and nodded. “Fine. It’ll get John off my back, at least.”

“He’s just worried about you,” Ali said.

James hesitated and then very carefully squeezed her in a hug. “I know.”

“You know, we don’t have to spar again any time soon,” she said, “Not until you say it’s all right.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. He pulled back but took her hand, looking at her face for a long moment. “I’m so sorry, Alison.”

“It’s okay, James,” she said gently, her hand tightening around his fingers. She knew he would never, ever do something like that on purpose. It had never crossed her mind. She brought his hand up to her cheek and brushed his knuckles against her skin. “Really."