^^Above, chapter title credit: song by A Flock of Seagulls.^^

{Raina}

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" I ask for about the fourth time. Ridley had cornered me coming out of class, and had then practically dragged me out of the building. Now we're in the car and speeding along the icy road with dark pine trees rushing by on both sides.

"No," he says curtly.

"I really don't know what you want, Ridley. I just—"

"Be quiet," he snaps. "I don't like talking anyway."

I bite my lip. I never liked him at his best, but seeing him now, I feel a small seed of something worse. I can't tell what it is yet, but I don't like it. It's the same feeling I got whenever Dad looked at me or touched me. Instead I twist my hands in my lap, trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness growing in my stomach. Ridley seems bent on something here, and it has to do with me. I can't possibly imagine what it could be.

Then, suddenly, he swerves off the road and we're bumping along a dirt path that looks like it hasn't been used in a while. He's making the first tire tracks.

"Here," he says finally, stopping the car at the end of the road. Through the trees, I see the front of a cabin, but unlike the time he did this with Geoff, it doesn't look abandoned. In fact, it actually has smoke coming from the chimney.

He gets out, going around the back. I hear the thump of the trunk opening, and him rummaging around in it. Then another as he closes it, and he knocks on my window as he passes. Come on, he mouthes at me. As I get out, I see him carrying something that looks like a toolbox.

I step inside the cabin, and the first thing that strikes me is how juxtaposed it is next to Ridley's personality. It looks like it should belong to some nice old lady who makes gingerbread cookies on Christmas and collects porcelain figures. Except for the spread on the table in front of the fireplace. Bottles, at least fifty or sixty of them, are lined up on it, all filled with a green liquid. I inch forward, picking one up and holding it up to the light. It's about as viscous as water, and about as transparent.

"Like what you see?" Ridley's voice comes from behind, and I nearly drop the bottle as I whirl around.

"I don't—" I shake my head. "I don't even know what it is."

"Well, surely Geoff told you about it. That I tried to test it on a super." He sneers. "But I'm not going to let that deter me, because I'm going to use a different test subject this time."

"You are?" I don't see any young girls anywhere, tied up or anything else. He couldn't possibly think of experimenting on me, because I'm not even super — but he knows exactly what'll provoke Geoff, meaning I wouldn't put it past him.

"Yeah. It's me."

"You?" That surprises me so much I can't get anything else out.

He raises an eyebrow, and as he passes me, he runs his hand across my hip. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I just didn't think...you don't even know if it works."

"Well, I didn't know how chemical inhibitors in the brain worked either, but I found that out pretty quickly, didn't I?" He sets the toolbox down under the table and opens it, taking out a syringe. "Relax. This is the part where you come in."

"Me? What can I do?" I don't even know what it is.

"You're gonna stick me with it," he says casually, like somebody would say You can set the table.

"What?" I shake my head.

"Come on. It's not so hard to understand." Impatience now, creeping into his voice. "I can't get anyone to volunteer for this, can I? So I'm gonna try it on myself."

"You don't need me to do that." Even though I know it's useless to say.

"Raina." He turns to me. "I do. Because you know what? We've got a lot in common. And we ought to stick together, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't—" I start, but he's up against me so fast I hardly see it. He runs a finger along my jaw, stopping under my chin and tilting my face up. He's all hard angles, nothing like Geoff—I push that thought quickly away. It's too distracting.

"You would," he says, his voice dangerously soft. "Because after you do this, I'll be normal, like you, and I'll look a lot more attainable than Geoff Cromwell."

"Geoff is my boyfriend, thank you." I back away from him. "And I don't need you telling me who I should be dating."

"But is he any good?" he asks, and when I don't answer right away, he smiles. It's not a nice smile. It's cold and calculating, and doesn't go to his eyes. "I thought so. You deserve someone who'll treat you right."

"He does treat me right." It occurs to me all at once: it's not him, it's me. He's sweet, and cares about me, and puts himself before me. And I don't. All I do is feel sorry for myself. How could I have been so blind?

"Sure he does." Ridley turns around to fill a syringe with the green liquid, and when he's done with that, he takes his coat and scarf off and rolls up the sleeve of his sweater.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I scowl at his back as he takes a length of rope from the box next and coming back over to me.

"I think you know," he says, holding out the rope to me. "Tie this on."

"Ridley, I don't—"

"Tie it on." He tosses it at me, and I catch it, clumsily. When I hesitate, he holds his arm out towards me. I do, but when I'm done, he says "Tighter."

"But it is—"

"Tighter, Raina," he says through gritted teeth.

Against my better judgement, I do it. He just grunts when it's enough, and only goes back to the table long enough to pick up the syringe. Then he hands it to me, presenting the crook of his elbow. I see the vein already beginning to stand out, and it occurs to me how vulnerable it looks. He's so thin, it looks like he could snap in half at any second.

"What are you waiting for?" he says, making no effort to disguise his impatience now. "Do it."

"Ridley, I can't..." I shake my head. "I can't—"

"Can't, or won't?" he snarls, suddenly pulling me against him with his free arm. "I ask you to do something, you do it, got that?"

Then suddenly it's like I'm eight years old again, Dad picking me up by the armpits so we were eye-to-eye, shaking me. Can't do it, or won't do it, you stupid kid? I feel the same terror, the same helplessness, the same disgust.

"Come on!" Ridley barks, shoving me away. "Now!"

"Ridley, don't—" I collide with a chair, and it scrapes loudly across the floor. "You don't have to—"

"Don't what? Don't advance science? Don't push new boundaries? What?" He grabs me suddenly, but it doesn't last long. He slings me back the other direction, so I hit the table and the bottles rattle dangerously.

I can't say anything. I'm stuck in my eight-year-old silence. He advances towards me again, this time grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking my head back, so I'm looking into his eyes. They terrify me. There's no emotion there at all.

"Do it," he says, dangerously soft again. He thrusts his hips forward, and I feel him even with all the layers of clothes between us. Twisted as it is, he's aroused by this. His hand tightens in my hair. "Now."

I lift my hand, and it's shaking so bad I wonder how I'll even get the needle in. He turns his arm, and rests it on my shoulder. When I lower it, I can hear his breath, coming fast and sharp. When it pierces his skin and slides into his vein, he closes his eyes and exhales. I stop just shy of pushing down the plunger. I can't do it. Even if it does work, I can't be the one that took away a super's powers. It would give him that much more power over me.

"What's taking so long?" he snaps, and when he opens his eyes and sees the still-full syringe, he lets go of my hair to grab my wrist, forcing the needle deeper. His eyes narrow. "You little bi—"

The whole front of the cabin suddenly implodes, the current of incoming air hitting me like a wall and knocking me sideways. Ridley's hands are ripped away from me, and I hear some of the bottles fall to the floor and break as my head collides with something hard and knocks me down. I'm stunned, but I don't black out, which is why I see a tall bulky figure standing where the door used to be. Even from here I can see he's clad in bright red armor. It's the Red Knight.

He doesn't get any time to recover. Ridley, still in street clothing, comes running at him and yelling like a maniac. The Red Knight's body ripples and disappears, and Ridley goes hurtling off the porch into the snow. If he hadn't done what he'd just done, I'd have found that a little funny.

Then he reappears, running over to me. "Hey. You okay?"

I groan, my head pounding. He maneuvers himself so he's behind me, pulling me out of the wreckage. I resist the urge to throw up when I see the gash in my thigh, long and deep, blood staining the leg of my jeans.

"Gimme one second, I'll get you out of here." He props me up gently against the wall, and then runs outside to deal with Ridley. I hear him yelling, something about how it almost worked, see but she chickened out.

I don't have time to be thankful for my moment of hesitation. All I know is that I'm numb and cold and I want to go to sleep. Finally I'm granted that wish, and I black out.

≈

"Raina," says a voice when I drift back into consciousness. "Raina, wake up."

I crack my eyes open, seeing low lamplight first. There's a dull throbbing in my head, and in my leg too. Next to me is Geoff, the top half of his suit gone. He's bare from the waist up, and briefly I wonder if it's more comfortable inside his suit that way. The thought makes me blush.

"Hey." He smiles when our eyes meet, but it's nothing like Ridley's. He looks genuinely relieved. "You okay?"

"Mmhmm," I manage, my mind still foggy. "Where 'm I?"

"Back at school," he says, running his fingers over my cheek. "Ridley won't be bothering you anymore, that's for sure."

"What'd you do?" I mumble.

"Don't worry about it right now." He leans forward, kissing my forehead and smoothing my hair away from it. "You're safe, and that's all that matters to me."

"Geoff..." I catch his cheek as he pulls away, arresting his movement. "I'm sorry..."

His brow furrows. "For what?"

"I'm so self-centered...and...always feeling sorry for myself...but you...you're not...if there's any problems between us...it's me...not you." I feel ashamed, but I have to admit it.

"No, Raina, you're not. And you know why? Because you make me happy. Just by being you. I love the good parts and the bad parts, and I love you even though you don't always love yourself. Somebody has to. And you're not self-centered, you're just haunted by your past. But trust me when I say I don't think you're at fault here."

"But I...but you..." I want to move, but my whole body hurts. I can only cup his cheek so he won't pull away.

"I love you, Raina," he says softly, and then kisses me just as softly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Geoff," I whisper against his lips, and he smiles again. And I feel a weight lift off my mind and my heart. This is the lightest it's been in ten years.

≈

When I wake later, I'm alone. I try to roll over on my side, but a sharp pain radiates up from my hip, making me gasp and collapse. After a few more seconds, I attempt to get up, without rolling over. It seems to work that time, but my head spins so badly that I have to sit on the edge of the bed for a while before I can even think about standing. Eventually, when I do make it, I see the gash on my thigh now looks like a days' old scar. It's just a long pink line, thick and puckered. At least it's not an open wound anymore.

I shuffle to the foot of the bed, my body still sore, and catch myself in the mirror on the back of the open wardrobe door. I'm in nothing but my underwear. I can't see my scars as well in this low light, but I know they're there. They're always there. What I do see, however, is the source of the pain in my hip — a bruise spreads up my side, almost to my rib cage. Gingerly I touch it and see myself wince.

I turn around and pull the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around myself before shambling over to the door and peeking through the crack. Somehow, I ended up at the frat, because I recognize the dark wood railing and the lighter wood wainscoting halfway up the walls. I slide sideways through the crack and stand at the top of the stairs, wondering how much energy it'll cost me to get down them.

"Hey, you're awake," says a deep voice behind me.

I turn my head and look up. It's Matt. "Hey, Matt."

"You okay?" His brow furrows. "Had a lot of blood on you when you came in."

"Did I?" I try to remember, but it comes back to me in fragments: Ridley, the syringe, the explosion, the Red Knight. "Just sore now, thankfully."

"We were worried about you. Geoff says he heard you muttering 'Dad' or something. You were barely conscious."

"Really?" I hope I don't sound too surprised. I'd only seen Dad when Ridley took me to that cabin. Sexual advances and abuse. It was the same thing all over again.

"Yeah." Matt runs one hand over his hair. It's grown out of its buzz cut a little bit, in tight curls. "Geoff's gonna want to see you."

"Is he...?" I nod towards the stairs.

Matt nods. "Need help getting down?"

"That'd be nice, thank you."

I lean on him, favoring my non-bruised hip to carry most of my weight. I'm actually thankful that he's here. Not only does everybody seem to like him, but he's always willing to help, no matter who it is. Even if he doesn't know them well. I guess it's that superhero instinct.

Geoff's sitting in the common area, his back to us. Matt clears his throat, making him turn around. When he sees me he jumps to his feet and hurries over, pulling me into his arms. I press my cheek into his shoulder and close my eyes, feeling safe there.

"Thanks, Matt," he says, genuinely grateful.

"Thank you," I add.

He mumbles something that could be you're welcome or no problem before leaving us alone. Geoff lets me go, sinking down to a knee and cupping my face. His eyes dart around in a distressed manner, and his mouth is thin and tight.

"Thank God you're okay. Matt says it took forever to get Medicine Man in here to heal you."

"Medicine Man?" I furrow my brow. "Who's that?"

"He's a super with exceptional healing powers. Never seen anything like it." He kisses my forehead, and then pulls me against him again. "I'm going to kill Ridley, I swear."

"Geoff, don't—"

"No, Raina. I know you said you knew he was bad news, and you're right. But I think he's more than that now. He's chaos personified. Anarchy, destruction, the whole deal." Geoff's voice is different than before, low and fearful. "He pulls one thread, and we all go."

"What's the thread?" I don't want to know, but Ridley directly involving me makes it a little more urgent.

Geoff shakes his head. "I don't know that, unfortunately. But what I do know is what he's trying to do with that green stuff."

I raise one eyebrow. "Really? Already?"

"Well, I read that doctoral thesis paper by that professor he talks to..."

"Walker," I supplement.

"Yeah, Walker. It was about the strategic blocking of dopamine by inhibiting its receptors, and documenting how people responded." Geoff seems a little baffled, and I am too. The fact that Ridley's experiment is rooted so soundly in science is eerie. "The paper said that once blocked, people had no sense of reward, motivation, or pleasure. They did things, but not because it was making them feel good. They were just doing them to do them. It took away their sense of risk assessment. And it blocks the amygdala's ability to provide incentive."

"Oh, wow." I bite my lip. This is getting pretty convoluted. "And Ridley's experiment fits in with this how?"

"I don't know." Geoff pushes a hand through his hair, leaning heavily against the back of the couch. "It's never been tested on a super. And nobody knows how supers' brains are different."

"We could go speak to Professor Walker, I suppose—" I start, but Geoff shakes his head. "What?"

"Walker's gone. Disappeared. The other two chemistry professors said they haven't seen him since last week, and he hasn't been teaching his sections. They tried calling him too, but both his numbers were disconnected."

"He's gone?" My brain stubbornly refuses to believe that. "But how...?"

"I asked Hugo Thomas to track the paper down for me," Geoff says after a heavy silence. "Walker disappeared on the same day, and that was also the day Ridley threatened me with hurting you. He's trying to get rid of all prior traces. And why the hell wouldn't you, when you're as twisted as Ridley?"

"You think Ridley got rid of Walker?" I wouldn't put it past him, at this point.

"Yeah, I do. And I think if we don't do something fast, he's gonna come after every last one of us. That's the mark of a good criminal: cover your tracks." Geoff's fists clench in his hair, and his pacing gets increasingly more agitated. "But he's always a step ahead...no weaknesses."

"Geoff." I watch him, wanting to help but knowing I can't.

"And all he wants is me, and he doesn't even care enough to tell me why—"

"Geoff," I say, more forceful this time.

He doesn't seem to hear me. "If I could find a weak spot, just one—"

"Geoff!"

He stops in his tracks, dropping his hands. "I'm sorry, Raina."

"I know you are." I let go of the blanket with one hand and extend it to him. "Come here."

Without a word, he does, taking my hand. I finally let the blanket drop, sliding my fingers around the back of his neck. His breath is harsh and irregular, and his eyes are deeply troubled. The expression makes my heart ache. I tug him down, pressing my lips gently against his. He doesn't respond at first, but when I release his hand to lay it on his chest, that changes. He skims both hands up my back, tripping over my bra clasp.

"Raina..." he says, his voice hoarse and ragged.

"Do it," I whisper. "I want you to."

He hesitates. "Are you...?"

"Yes." I meet his gaze, head-on. "If you're worried about hurting me, don't. It's not about me right now."

"I'm always about you," he says, a corner of his mouth pulling up.

"Then do it."

Everything moves faster after that — we kiss hard and tear each other's clothes off and press ourselves so close together the heat between seems ready to ignite. At some point I remember Geoff picking up the blanket and wrapping it around the both of us. After that, a fog. The only thing I see is him, stretching infinitely in front of me.